THE SERPENT PRINCE CURSE

Chapter Two: Eyes Beneath the Water

Lira could not move.

The scream that rose in her throat died before it could escape as a pair of golden eyes stared up at her from beneath the dark water.

They were not the eyes of any creature she knew. There was nothing wild or animal in them. They were far too intelligent, far too aware. The waves rolled gently around her ankles, cool and harmless, yet those glowing eyes remained motionless beneath the surface, fixed on her with an unsettling calm that sent fear rushing through her body.

Every warning her grandmother had ever spoken came crashing into her mind.

Do not go near the forbidden waters.

Not everything in the sea is spirit.

Her chest tightened so violently she could hardly breathe.

Then the eyes disappeared.

The golden glow vanished beneath the dark tide as though it had never been there at all.

Lira stumbled backward, nearly losing her footing in the wet sand. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs as she turned and ran. The shoreline blurred before her. Cold wind lashed at her skin while the hem of her dress clung heavily to her legs. She did not stop until she reached her grandmother’s hut, breathless and trembling.

She pushed the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

Asha rose at once from where she sat. “Lira?”

“There was something in the water,” Lira gasped, struggling for breath.

Her grandmother’s face lost all color. “What did you see?”

“Eyes,” Lira whispered. “Golden eyes beneath the sea.”

Asha’s hands tightened around the cloth she held. “Where?”

“At the shore.”

Without another word, Asha hurried to shut the door, then turned back to face her.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

Lira stared at her. The fear in the old woman’s face frightened her more than the thing she had seen in the water.

She explained everything—the strange glow beneath the waves, the whisper of her name, the golden eyes watching from below.

When she finished, silence filled the hut.

Asha turned away, but Lira noticed the slight tremor in her hands.

“Grandmother,” she said softly, “what was it?”

Asha’s answer came low and firm. “You must never return there alone.”

“What is in the water?”

Asha turned sharply. “Promise me.”

“Not until you tell me the truth.”

“The truth is danger.”

Frustration rose hot in Lira’s chest. “You always say that. You warn me, but you never explain anything.”

“Because some truths destroy lives.”

“I saw something out there,” Lira said, her voice rising. “I deserve to know.”

Asha stepped toward her and gripped her shoulders. “You saw something that should not know your name.”

The words sent ice through Lira’s veins.

“What does that mean?”

Asha released her and stepped back, her expression hardening. “It means you must stay away from the sea.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one you will get tonight.”

Lira wanted to press further, but the terror in her grandmother’s eyes stopped her. It was not anger she saw there—it was fear, deep and genuine.

So she said nothing more.

That night she lay awake listening to the sea.

The waves seemed louder than usual, though perhaps it was only because she could not stop hearing them. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the golden gaze beneath the water.

It had terrified her.

Yet beneath the fear was something else.

Curiosity.

There had been no hunger in that stare. No cruelty. No malice.

Only recognition.

And that frightened her most of all.

When sleep finally claimed her, it brought dreams.

She stood alone on the shore beneath a silver moon. The sea shimmered with a strange blue glow, and beneath the water a dark figure moved—long, graceful, powerful.

Then a voice whispered her name.

Lira...

She turned.

A hand rose from the sea.

It was human. Beautiful.

And reaching for her.

She woke with a gasp.

Morning light streamed through the small window of the hut. Her grandmother was already gone.

Lira sat upright slowly, pressing a hand against her racing heart. The dream had felt too real.

Why did the thought of that voice fill her with fear—and longing?

She spent the morning helping Mara gather shells at the edge of the village, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the sea.

“You’re quiet today,” Mara observed.

“I didn’t sleep well,” Lira replied.

Mara studied her. “Did your grandmother scold you again?”

Lira hesitated before saying, “I saw something at the shore.”

Mara smiled faintly. “A fish?”

Lira shook her head. “Eyes.”

Mara’s smile disappeared. “What kind of eyes?”

“Golden.”

Mara glanced around nervously before lowering her voice. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m serious.”

“My brother says spirits live in the forbidden waters.”

“Do you believe him?”

Mara shrugged. “I believe there must be a reason no one goes there.”

Lira said nothing.

Because despite the fear still sitting in her chest, she already knew she would return.

By sunset the urge had become impossible to ignore.

She tried to distract herself—helping prepare supper, mending a torn basket, sitting quietly by the fire—but every thought led back to the sea.

At last she stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

Asha looked up sharply. “No.”

Lira froze.

“You are not going near the shore.”

“I only need air.”

“The sea is dangerous tonight.”

Lira’s patience snapped. “According to you, it is dangerous every night.”

Asha rose slowly. “You do not understand what is waking.”

“Then help me understand.”

Pain flickered across Asha’s face. “I cannot.”

“Or you will not?”

“You think silence is cruelty,” Asha said quietly. “One day you will learn it can also be mercy.”

Tears of anger stung Lira’s eyes. “I am tired of being treated like a child.”

Before Asha could stop her, she turned and left.

The evening air was cool against her skin. The sky glowed orange as the sun sank toward the horizon, and the beach lay empty beneath the fading light.

Lira stopped at the edge of the waves, wrapping her arms around herself.

Fear told her to leave.

Something stronger told her to stay.

She stepped into the water.

At first, nothing happened.

Then the water rippled.

A circle spread slowly around her feet.

Another followed.

Then another.

Something moved beneath the surface—large, smooth, silent.

The golden eyes appeared again.

Closer than before.

Watching her.

She should have run.

Instead, she whispered, “Who are you?”

The shape moved toward her.

A dark figure rose beneath the surface.

A shoulder.

An arm.

Then a hand emerged from the sea.

Human.

Lira stepped back in shock.

The hand held something—her shell necklace.

The figure rose farther, dark wet hair clinging to bare shoulders.

“Is this yours?” a deep voice asked.

Lira could barely breathe.

The stranger extended the necklace toward her. “Take it.”

Her hand trembled as she reached for it.

The moment their fingers touched, blue light flashed through the water.

She gasped and pulled back.

Then he rose fully before her.

Her breath caught.

He was a man—or appeared to be.

Bronze skin gleamed beneath the fading light. Wet dark hair fell across a face so striking it seemed unreal. Sharp cheekbones, strong features, and eyes of molten gold that held an ancient, unreadable power.

He looked young, only a few years older than she was, yet something in him felt ancient.

Dangerous.

Beautiful.

“You came back,” he said.

His voice was low and calm, smooth as the tide.

Lira swallowed hard. “What are you?”

A faint trace of amusement touched his expression. “That is a rude first question.”

“You are not human.”

“No.”

The honesty in that single word made her pulse race.

“Then what are you?”

He stepped closer, and the water moved around him as if it obeyed his will.

“You should leave.”

“That is not an answer.”

His golden gaze locked onto hers. “No answer I give will make this safe for you.”

The warning should have frightened her.

Instead, it drew her closer.

“How do you know my name?”

He hesitated before answering. “The sea told me.”

“That is impossible.”

“For your kind, perhaps.”

He turned as though to leave.

“Wait.”

He paused.

“Will you tell me your name?”

For the first time, something softer entered his gaze.

“Kael.”

The name settled between them like a secret.

“Kael,” she repeated quietly.

He looked at her as though hearing his name on her lips mattered.

Then his expression hardened once more.

“You must not return here.”

“Why?”

His eyes darkened. “Because the sea knows your name now.”

The wind rose sharply, stirring the waves around him.

“What does that mean?”

But Kael was already retreating into the water.

“If you value your life,” he said, “forget you saw me.”

Then he vanished beneath the waves.

The sea became still.

Lira stood motionless, clutching her necklace.

She should have been terrified.

She was terrified.

But stronger than fear was the desperate need to understand.

Who was he?

Why had the sea spoken her name?

And why had looking into his eyes felt like remembering something she had never known?

At last she turned toward the village.

Then a whisper drifted across the water.

Come back.

She spun around.

The sea was empty.

Only dark waves rolled beneath the evening sky.

Yet the whisper remained inside her chest.

And in that moment she knew, with terrifying certainty, that no matter the danger—

She would return.