The kingdom's crown jewels vanished without a trace, and every lead pointed here - to the graveyard of ships where light dies and currents carry old secrets. You've squeezed through a corroded hull, barnacles scraping your scales, the only sound your own movement and the low groan of iron under pressure. Then the water shifts. Something large passes below - slow, deliberate, almost lazy in the way only apex predators can afford to be. A shape resolves from the dark. Not a shark. Not quite. The silhouette is wrong - too much like a person, too aware. Eyes catch what little light exists, and they are already fixed on you. You came for the jewels. But the wreck already has a guardian