Sovereign of the Deep

Ren sat at the edge of the pool, his feet just grazing the water, eyes lifted to the night sky. The stars above were faint, blurred by the city's glow. Below him, District 4 stretched outward in shimmering tiers of glass, neon, and motion. A world that looked nothing like the one he'd known just a week ago. Somewhere behind him, the soft hum of Sami's penthouse continued—quiet, distant.

His mind was a whirlpool.

Some things finally made sense now. But somehow, that only made the rest harder to grasp.

He'd gotten answers to most of his questions. He finally understood what his condition was—this affliction.

The constant thirst. The stillness in his chest. The strange call of water.

And the way simply being submerged had healed wounds that should've taken months.

It all pointed to one thing:

He was a Viran.

But even with that revelation, it brought more questions—

ones he had no immediate answers for.

How does someone even become a Viran? Is it genetic?

Did he become a Viran because his mother was one?

If so, why wasn't Anya one too?

Why had his mom hidden the truth from him—about what he was, and even more than that, about who she had been? Why did no one in their family know what she truly was?

And why had Anele come to kill her?

Marie didn't have answers to those questions. According to her, she knew a fair bit about the Virans—because she had served as a vassal under Rhesa for over thirty years. They weren't just close; Rhesa had been like family to her. A mentor. A savior.

Apparently, Marie had been saved by Rhesa when she was still a girl—rescued from some incident she didn't want to talk about—and taken in. Since then, she'd always felt indebted. A debt she could never repay. And so, she chose to serve Rhesa as a vassal. All Kyrios had vassals serving under them, but they typically dealt only with other Virans. Rhesa was the only one who accepted humans as well.

That continued until two decades ago, when Rhesa withdrew—stepping away from public life and all her responsibilities to start a family. She chose to live in private, far from the world of Virans—leaving even her vassals behind, without offering any real explanation.

Then, just a couple of days ago, the news broke about the District 6 incident—and with it, the death of their lady. The mood had turned dark. Heavy. For Marie and the few who had once served Rhesa, it was the final confirmation: their lady was truly gone.

But then word spread: her children had survived.

Marie had been… relieved. Grateful, even. It didn't make the grief go away—but it gave it shape. Gave it direction. A reason to move forward.

She saw it as a chance to repay a debt she'd never been able to return.

So she made her decision—to take them in.

She told them they could stay here, in the penthouse.

"Feel at home," she said.

Ren was happy—even if he didn't let it show.

Of course he was. Who wouldn't be?

For the first time since he woke up a couple days ago, his future didn't look completely dark.

Back at the hospital, he'd wondered how he was supposed to survive with Anya. Where would they go? Would they have to move down to the lower districts, or scrounge for a permit just to stay in a place like this? Where would they even get one?

District 4 was expensive.

People like them didn't belong here.

And then, out of nowhere, someone had shown up and offered to take them in.

Not just anyone—someone at the pinnacle of wealth and status.

And not just anywhere—District 4, Sector 1.

It felt unreal.

Had the gods always been this kind?

Or were they just… late?

As for what came next—what it meant to be a Viran, how he was supposed to live with his affliction, how to start resonating with his element… well, that would have to wait.

Sami had told him he was a Viran as well, though his affinity was with Earth—a completely different element.

According to him, Virans of different elements operated under different rules. Which meant Sami couldn't really guide him. Couldn't offer the advice Ren actually needed.

But he'd mentioned someone was coming. A friend—maybe. Someone who could help.

So, for now, he had to wait.

In the meantime, Sami had told him to stay near the pool. Or better yet, in it. As much as he could.

Even though Ren hadn't awakened properly, his body could still recognize Vira on a faint, instinctive level—drawing in just enough to keep the worst of the affliction at bay.

Ren let out a long breath and leaned back, palms pressed to the warm tiles behind him. His legs hung in the pool, the water cool against his skin—calming, in a way nothing else had been.

He stared out across the surface, quiet. Still.

It had been a crazy week.

No—a crazy life.

'A Viran, huh?'

Did that mean he could do magic too?

Or whatever it was they did?

He raised his hands and stared at them. They were still, but a little tense.

His fingers were damp. Cold. Nothing special.

'How does it work?'

Just then, Ren heard footsteps.

Sami plopped down beside him with a soft sigh, like he'd just finished climbing a mountain. Which, to be fair, was kind of the energy this penthouse gave off.

He was holding a glass of whiskey, golden and sharp. He took a sip, then gave the faintest shake of his head, like it hit just right.

"You good?" Sami asked, eyeing him.

Ren nodded. "Yeah. My mind's full, though. Still got a lot of questions."

Sami smirked. "Figures. You'll get the hang of everything soon."

Ren looked at him more directly. "I get why Marie's helping me. But what about you?"

Sami was quiet for a moment.

"Because Marie asked me to," he said eventually. "She's my mom, after all. Can't really say no."

Ren blinked. "Huh. I thought…"

"I'm adopted," Sami cut in smoothly. "When Lady Rhesa went into seclusion, her vassals scattered. Marie settled here, in District 4. She adopted me not long after."

He stared into his drink.

"More like… she found me. Saved me."

His voice had dropped—careful, distant. He didn't want to unpack that memory, and Ren didn't press. He understood that tone too well.

Ren glanced down at the water, then back at Sami.

"Can I ask you something?"

Sami shrugged. "You just did. But sure, hit me."

Ren hesitated.

"How… how are Virans created? I mean, is it something you catch? Or… is it genetic?"

Sami's expression shifted—just slightly. His usual smirk softened.

"It's inherited," he said. "Always."

Ren blinked. "Always?"

Sami nodded.

"You're either born with the core, or you're not. No one becomes a Viran later. It doesn't work like that."

Ren frowned.

"So both parents have to be Virans?"

"Not necessarily," Sami said. "One parent's enough to pass it on. Sometimes it skips a generation. Sometimes it shows up faint in one sibling, strong in another. But it's always in the blood. That's why no one really talks about how to 'become' a Viran—because you can't."

"Guess that explains a few things," Ren muttered.

He looked down at his palm.

"You said I hadn't awakened properly. When I do… will I be able to do all the cool stuff Virans do on TV?"

Sami let out a short laugh.

"To awaken properly is to become Attuned," he said. "Every Viran needs to resonate with their element. Once that resonance happens, your element opens the path to your derivative. That's your specialty. Your signature. It's the ability born from your element."

He lifted his glass and took the last sip.

"If you're water, your derivative could be ice… or mist. Anele's derivative is blood. Pretty terrifying, honestly."

He set the empty glass down.

And then something strange happened.

The glass didn't fall. It hung in the air.

It hovered, perfectly still—suspended as if gravity had just… taken a break. Then, with a flick of his finger, Sami tapped the rim and whispered a word under his breath.

"Lasikukka."

— Glass Flower

A faint ripple shimmered across the glass, like moonlight bending over water.

Crack.

Fractures bloomed—delicate, webbed—until the glass shattered.

But the shards didn't fall.

They rose, drifting in graceful arcs around his hand like petals in a silent wind.

They shimmered, folding inward with impossible precision.

Then they bloomed—

Curving into a radiant glass flower, each petal thin and gleaming in the soft moonlight.

A breeze stirred from the rooftop pool.

A single droplet caught the light, and colors danced faintly across Ren's face.

It was… beautiful.

Sami's voice dropped to something gentler.

"My derivative is glass."

Ren stared, eyes wide.

"I can control all glass around me," Sami continued. "And in case you haven't noticed…" He gestured to the skyline. "This entire city is my environment."

Ren was stunned.

'Man… that's amazing.'

He glanced at his own hand again, wondering.

'What would mine be? Ice? Mist? Blood would be cool—terrifying, maybe, but undeniably cool.'

Sami smirked, then tucked the glass flower behind Ren's ear with the teasing gentleness of an older brother.

Ren smiled.

Sami stood up, stretching his arms with a sigh, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black box.

"Here. Got something for you."

Ren opened it.

A brand-new phone. The latest model—the kind that looked like it came with a personal assistant and a warning not to drop it.

He turned to Sami, waving the phone. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Sami said, grinning. "I hear the cold doesn't bother water types."

Ren's brow furrowed slightly—because now that Sami said it, he realized it was true.

Sami went on. "Anyway. It bothers me, so I'm heading inside. Make yourself at home. You two belong here now. You're part of the family."

He said it so casually—but to Ren, it didn't feel casual at all.

You're part of the family.

The words hit deeper than they should have.

Ren couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Sami disappeared back inside, his footsteps silent against the obsidian tiles. Moonlight poured across the glass walls, and the night settled deeper around them.

Ren reached up and took the glass flower from behind his ear. He held it in his palm.

Its surface was cold, perfectly smooth. Fragile. Stunning.

He turned it slowly between his fingers, letting the fractured light shift across its petals.

'Things aren't all that bad after all.'