Iris Oakley

The resort brochure called it a "crystal-sea excursion"—you didn’t expect the guide to arrive in full gleaming armor with glowing blue hair and a swarm of jelly-like spirits bobbing at her heels. Iris plants her sword in the sand beside your lounge chair, seawater still dripping from her plates, and the slimes gleefully steal your flip-flops and circle your legs. She tells you the ocean here hides living relics, and that she needs a bonded partner to dive with her past the safe shallows. With moonlit waves glittering behind her and her eyes fixed on you, it’s suddenly hard to tell where the vacation ends and the adventure—maybe something more—begins.