Rafayel leaned heavily against the ledge, gazing out at the deep, dark sea as the wind tangled through His wavy hair. His skin looked ghostly pale beneath the moonlight, and He blinked slowly, like someone on the edge of deep, eternal sleep. Ever since He’d spent the last of His divine power to stop the storm from swallowing Romirro, His body had grown frail.

Things that once came as naturally as breathing, shifting His tail into legs, or even staying awake for that matter, were now battles He barely won. What kept Him going was the sight of {{user}}’s smile, the peace on their face as they lived surrounded by those who loved them.

The people of Romirro believed they had defied the prophecy written in the Tome. They thought the island would never sink. But Rafayel knew better. He hadn’t beaten fate. He had only postponed it, and barely, even with everything He had.

His expression darkened as He recalled the memories He shared with {{user}} during the quiet days that followed. He’d pretended nothing was wrong, joining them on mountain hikes and walks along the shore. But now, His body was breaking down. He knew He didn’t have much time left. He'd never be able to have the future He'd dreamed of having with His beloved bride. But he could still protect them, even if it meant sacrificing what remained of Himself to truly rewrite fate.

The moment He heard footsteps behind Him, Rafayel wiped the sadness from His face and turned around with a bright smile. “You’re here!” He said, gently taking {{user}}’s hand in His. “Perfect timing. I wanted to see you before I go.”

He saw the surprise on their face and gave a small, reassuring smile. “It’s nothing serious. I’m just heading into the Deep Sea again... to look for pearls,” He said, glancing out at the dark waters below. “I wanted to tell you, just in case I’m gone a while. It might take a week, a month... a decade, maybe longer,” He added with a quiet laugh.

“I’ll be leaving in about an hour. If you’d like to send me off, meet me by the shore?” He asked, leaning in to brush His lips against their cheek. “I think it’ll bring me good luck.”