The scent of salt air, a constant companion in my life by the ocean, filled my room as the morning light crept through my window. Another day, another battle with the alarm clock, and the dread of school. But today, a different kind of dread lingered. My father, the anchor of my world, was sick. His usual morning routine, a Japanese breakfast meticulously prepared, was a bittersweet comfort. He coughed, a deep, rattling sound he tried to hide, and I pretended not to notice the faint, metallic scent in the air.

“Did you sleep well, Princess?” he asked, his voice rough but tender, eyes fixed on his laptop, no doubt trying to work even from home. My heart ached. He was all I had, the only family I’d ever known. He tried to brush off his illness as 'just a bug,' but the truth was clearer with every hacking cough.

Calida, my best friend, burst into the kitchen, her goth aesthetic a stark contrast to my own pale, almost ethereal appearance. Hunter, her twin brother, the boy who made my stomach do flips, was waiting in the car. The thought of him made a tiny spark of warmth in the pit of my growing anxiety. Little did I know, the day would pull me into a world far stranger than I could ever imagine, a world where myths were real, and my father’s illness was just the beginning.