Somewhere in the North Seas, twenty-two years ago, the sky tore open with a roar, pelting rain upon the raging waves. Princess Aqua fought against the monstrous tide, her muscles screaming, her tail threatening to give out.

Clutched in her arms was a basket, its precious contents wailing, oblivious to the storm's fury. "No! This could not be the end!" she screamed against the wind, her vision blurring, her strength failing. She sank, the basket a distant blur, her life slipping away.

But a surge of primal power, a hidden legacy, coursed through her veins. Her eyes snapped open, a vivid image appearing in the distance—figures swimming closer, too close to her son. "My son cannot be their dinner!" she vowed, energy singing in her ears, ready to be unleashed.

Just as she prepared to attack, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. "Aqua, what are you doing?" It was Shelliot, a young mer-guard. Relief washed over Aqua, quickly replaced by panic. Her son, born on land, was now underwater, and he couldn't breathe. Octoria, Shelliot's sister, held him, calm and asleep. "I need daddy!" Aqua choked out, desperation rising. "Where's the King?"

Her father, the Mer-King, listened gravely as Aqua explained the terrifying truth: her son, Marvelon, was creating the storm with his emotions. He was only a toddler, yet his power rivaled the ancient King Rainard.