"She has the voice of an angel! She can skin a fish in ten seconds flat! What more could you want in a woman?" Stinger shouted, spraying spittle.

  Zareth rubbed his temple. "Look, old man, I'm sure your daughter is a saint. But I just woke up from a six-month nap. Marriage is the last thing on my mind."

  "Then make it the first thing!" Stinger jabbed his walking stick into the dirt. "My bloodline needs to continue! And you owe me!"

  Lil Sinbad stepped between them. He looked up at the raging sailor with a grin that was all sharp teeth and mischief.

  "Grandpa, leave Papa alone. You're gonna burst a vein."

  The boy puffed out his chest. "If it's debt you're worried about, I'll pay it. I'll work ten times as hard in the rice fields. I'll carry so many sacks of grain that Big Sis won't have to lift a finger."

  "Damn brat."

  BONK!

  Stinger knocked Lil Sinbad on the head with his knuckles.

  "Don't barge into grown-up conversations! And you already complain about carrying one sack, let alone ten!"

  From the doorway, Luv Mishane sighed. She leaned against the frame, wiping her hands on her apron.

  "Father, go easy on the boy. Besides, you're the one who taught him to speak like a sailor. You can't be mad when he acts like one."

  She tilted her head toward the dining room. "Your food is getting cold. And you know how much I hate wasting a roast."

  "Yeah, Grandpa." Lil Sinbad rubbed his head, still grinning. "Go eat your pig before it gets lonely. I'm gonna take Papa on a tour of the island. He needs to stretch his legs."

  Stinger grumbled, but the mention of cold food seemed to sway him. He pointed a thick finger at Zareth.

  "This conversation isn't over. Don't go causing trouble in my town."

  Stinger hobbled back inside. The screen door slammed shut behind him.

  Lil Sinbad smirked. He picked up a long, polished stick that had been leaning against the wall. He twirled it in his fingers like a baton.

  "Come on, Papa. I know this place like the back of my hand. Let's go before he changes his mind."

  Zareth adjusted the sling on his heavy left arm. He looked at the boy; this creature that was half-human, half-nightmare, and entirely energetic.

  "Lead the way, brat. But if you get us lost, I'm tossing you off a cliff."

  "Heh. You can try."

  They walked down the winding dirt path that led away from the Logwater residence. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of the sea. Palm trees swayed overhead.

  As they descended toward the village proper, they passed a group of farmers tending to a small vegetable patch.

  "Hey, Sinbad!" a man called out, waving a hoe. "Try not to break anything today!"

  "No promises, Mr. Caliber!" Sinbad waved back with his stick.

  Further down, a woman hanging laundry laughed as they passed. "Look who's finally awake! Is that the famous sleeping beauty?"

  "That's him!" Sinbad shouted back. "My Papa is tougher than he looks!"

  Zareth pulled his coat collar up. "You're popular."

  "Infamous," Sinbad corrected proudly. "Mostly because of Grandpa. The Logwater name is big around here. For generations, they've been the top sailors. They bring in the biggest catches, map the safest routes through the storms. Grandpa Stinger is basically royalty without the crown. He has a whole fleet under his command."

  They reached a scenic overlook. Sinbad stopped and pointed his stick toward the highest peak of the island.

  "Look there."

  Zareth followed the line of the stick. Atop the jagged mountain stood a colossal statue carved from white stone. It depicted a woman with flowing hair, holding a large vase that poured endless water into a basin at her feet.

  "That's the Goddess Aquarius," Sinbad’s voice dropped an octave in reverence. "She watches over everyone on Aquaunia. The locals say she holds back the sea beasts and calms the storms."

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  Zareth squinted. Faint, glowing orbs drifted from the statue like dandelion seeds. They floated down the mountain, bathing the island in a soft, ethereal light.

  "What are those lights?"

  "Orbs of Grace," Sinbad said. "It's like... chi? Magic energy? It flows through everything here. The people harness it. They use it to heal, to make things lighter, to empower their minds."

  Sinbad tapped his chest. "The most important use is for Imprints. Rituals that graft the Grace into your body."

  "Imprints… Like the one in my eye?"

  "Exactly. An Imprint alters your body. Most people here get the One With The Ocean Imprint. It lets them breathe underwater as long as their Grace holds out."

  Sinbad turned around and pulled up his shirt. On his back were strange markings.

  "Check it out. Grandpa Stinger paid a fortune for this. That's why he works me like a dog. But it's worth it. I can swim deeper than anyone."

  He dropped his shirt and grinned. "But now that you're awake, who's gonna dare bully me? I got a monster for a dad."

  Zareth looked at the boy. The malice that had defined the infant, the cold, red stare of a predator, was buried deep. In its place was the brash confidence of a boy who felt safe.

  'This brat is nothing like the one I knew. He seems more... human.'

  "Hey, watch this!"

  Sinbad pointed his stick at the sky where the children were gliding.

  "See those gliders? They catch the wind because of the Sylph Imprint. But the real Sylph Imprint is super expensive and hurts like hell to get. So most kids get the cheap version: 'One With The Wind'. They graft it onto objects instead of skin."

  Sinbad twisted the handle of his stick. Two yellow canvas wings unfolded from the sides with a snap.

  Click-Whoosh!

  "Catch you later!"

  Sinbad ran toward the edge of the overlook and jumped. The wind caught the yellow wings, and he soared upward, laughing maniacally.

  He circled above, joining the flock of other children. Zareth watched them bank and dive. They shouted questions over the wind.

  "Is that him? Is that the man you told us about?"

  "Yup!" Sinbad yelled. "That's my Papa! He fought a giant purple monster!"

  "Whoa!"

  A group of five kids peeled off from the formation and landed clumsily on the grass near Zareth. They surrounded him instantly, eyes wide with awe.

  "Mister! Is it true you slept for six months?"

  "Did you really punch a whale?"

  "Why is your arm so big? Is it a cannon?"

  Zareth took a step back. He shifted his coat to better hide the cast on his left arm. He felt a headache forming behind his eyepatch.

  "Scram, you little vultures. I'm not a circus exhibit."

  "Aww, he's grumpy!"

  "Tell us a story!"

  Sinbad swooped down and landed between them. He retracted the stick’s wings with a flourish.

  "Alright, beat it! Papa hates annoying people. He eats brats for breakfast."

  "Eek!"

  The kids scattered, giggling as they ran back to the cliff edge to relaunch.

  "Sorry about that," Sinbad said, dusting off his pants. "They don't see many outsiders. Come on, I have somewhere special to show you. You're gonna love it."

  They continued down into the bustling market street. Vendors shouted prices for exotic fruits and shimmering fabrics. The smell of grilled fish and spices filled the air.

  Suddenly, a commotion erupted ahead.

  "Make way! Clear the path!"

  A group of burly men marched down the center of the street. They carried a massive net slung between poles. Inside the net, a gigantic fish thrashed. Its scales were iridescent, shifting from blue to green. It gasped for air with a mouth full of needle-teeth.

  "Out of the way! This is for the Governor!"

  Crowds parted, pressing Zareth and Sinbad against a stall selling colorful beads.

  "Whoa," Sinbad whispered. "That's a Prismfin Tuna! Those things are fast. Catching one alive is crazy hard."

  "Why keep it alive?" Zareth asked.

  "Freshness," Sinbad replied, drooling slightly. "The Governor is hosting some important guests who just arrived on the island. I bet they're gonna have a feast tonight. Lucky stiff."

  Zareth watched the men disappear around a corner toward the upper district where the Governor’s mansion sat.

  "Important guests, huh? Must be nice to be rich."

  "Yeah, well, I'm gonna be rich one day," Sinbad declared. "I'm gonna be a better sailor than Grandpa. Though he won't even let me on his boat yet. Says I'm 'too volatile'."

  They turned down a side alley. The noise of the market faded. Sinbad stopped in front of a modest wooden building with a sign depicting a overflowing mug.

  "Here we are."

  Lil Sinbad pushed the door open. "Go on."

  Zareth hesitated, then stepped inside.

  The smell hit him instantly. It wasn't fish or sea salt. It was the rich, oaky scent of aged liquor and tobacco smoke.

  It was a bar. And a good one.

  Zareth felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

  'How did this brat know? Does he truly have some of my DNA flowing in his blood?'

  He walked to the polished wooden counter. "Whiskey. Neat."

  The bartender, a man cleaning a glass, nodded and poured a generous measure of amber liquid.

  Zareth picked up the glass. He sniffed it. It smelled like heaven.

  He took a sip. The burn was perfect. It slid down his throat and settled in his stomach with a warm glow. Unlike the bread at dinner, his body didn't reject it. There was no nausea. No urge to vomit.

  "Hah..." Zareth exhaled a long breath. "Finally."

  "I knew you'd like it," Sinbad said, hopping onto the stool next to him.

  Zareth took another drink. As the alcohol hit his bloodstream, the voices in his head woke up.

  Ignivaros rumbled deep in his psyche. "Ooh... What is this liquid fire? I sense potent energy on the top shelf."

  "Indeed," Borealeth whispered. "That bottle with the blue label... it radiates a delightful chill. Consume it. We require its essence."

  Zareth ignored the hallucinations and savored his drink. He finished the glass and signaled for another.

  Then, reality crashed in. He patted his pockets. They were empty.

  "Ah. Right. I'm broke."

  Zareth froze. He looked at the bartender, who was waiting for payment.

  Clink.

  A small leather bag dropped onto the counter. A few silver coins spilled out.

  Zareth looked down. Sinbad grinned at him.

  "Put the rest on Grandpa Stinger's tab," Sinbad told the bartender with the confidence of a king.

  The bartender chuckled. "You got it, Lil Sinbad. Stinger is gonna kill you, but his credit is good."

  Zareth stared at the boy.

  "You stole his money?"

  "Borrowed," Sinbad corrected. "Besides, everyone on this island knows who Luv Stinger is. We're practically celebrities. Drink up, Papa. You look like you needed that."

  Zareth looked at the whiskey, then at the boy who had once been a monster and was now buying him drinks with stolen money.

  "You're a bad influence."

  Zareth downed the shot.