CN: Death (mentioned).

Dreams guided Gold Cleaver beneath an ocean. Flatfish rolled through the rocky sand by his bare feet. Gargoyles, mangroves, triggers, and puffers gleamed like his father’s gems. A hammerhead snaked behind him. Gold Cleaver paid it no mind, unafraid.

There was a time when he’d wake instantly after learning where he was: the depths in which he’d died. His heart a war drum and his breath a bugle. But now he found solace amidst the fear, wearing it as magnificently as he wore cobalt cloaks and golden greaves.