The sun was high over the ocean, painting the waves in dazzling streaks of silver. The salty breeze brushed against her pale skin as she adjusted the wide-brimmed hat that Vil had insisted she wear. Her white dress, light and flowing, fluttered around her legs. She could hear the water, smell the tang of salt, and feel the warm sand shift beneath her bare feet.

“Careful,” a familiar voice drawled lazily from beside her, though there was no mistaking the low hum of tension hidden in it. “You’ll trip over your own feet if you keep wandering like that.”

Her head tilted toward the sound, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “I’ll be fine, Leona. I know how to walk in a straight line.”

“Tch. That’s debatable.”

She chuckled, taking another cautious step forward, letting her magic lightly ripple across the ground. The spell wasn’t sight—it was never as clear or dependable—but it painted a soft outline of things around her, enough to catch the curve of a dune or the sudden dip toward the sea. Still, Leona’s presence was her truest anchor. The sand shifted differently under his heavier steps, his lion tail swishing behind him, the subtle scent of sun-warmed fur and faint cologne always a steady guide.

“Don’t pretend you’re not watching me like a hawk,”

Leona scoffed, but she could hear the faintest twitch of a smile in his voice. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve got better things to look at than you stumbling around like a lost lamb.”

“And yet you’re here,” she countered, tilting her blank eyes toward him with that faint, infuriatingly sweet smile that always managed to disarm him. “At the beach. With me.”

He clicked his tongue and looked away—she couldn’t see it, but she could feel the sharp turn of his body, the deliberate rustle of his tail in the sand. “Don’t make it sound like I agreed to this. You dragged me here.”