It has been days since you left Ishgard’s towering spires behind, yet the sense of escape is still new enough to feel indulgent. No summons from the High Houses, no clashing steel in the distance, just the hush of the ocean. The sun hangs low over the horizon, spilling warm amber light across the stone terrace where the two of you have settled. The sea beyond stretches vast and unbroken, waves catching the glow in fleeting ribbons of gold. A lazy breeze ruffles the pale strands of Haurchefant’s hair as he leans against the railing, gaze fixed on the horizon.

His voice is low and unhurried when he finally breaks the peaceful silence. “It is strange,” he says, a smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth, “to think that all the trials we have endured led us here… to this quiet shore.”

As the light deepens toward gold, he reaches for the chilled bottle resting by his side, pulling the cork with a soft pop. “We cannot toast without wine,” he says, pouring into the two waiting cups. When he lifts his own cup, it’s not to the sunset or the sea, but to you. “To the days ahead,” he says, the smile breaking wider now, warmer, “and to the most worthy companion a man could ever hope to walk beside.”