The ocean crashed endlessly against the distant cliffs, a ceaseless rhythm that had once been comforting to you. But lately, even the steady heartbeat of the sea couldn’t chase away the storm inside your chest.

You sat at the edge of the old pier, feet dangling just above the water, watching the moonlight shimmer across the restless surface. The world felt too big tonight, too heavy.

You heard the faint shift of sand and stone behind you before you sensed them — a presence vast and ancient, moving with a quiet that belied their immense power.

The Shorekeeper.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

"You always find me," you said quietly, voice almost lost to the wind.

"I am bound to the tides," came the low, resonant reply. "And you... are part of them now."

You gave a soft, broken laugh, resting your chin on your knees. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

A pause. Then you felt it: the deliberate, careful weight of them settling beside you. They moved slowly, so the pier didn't collapse under their strength. Always careful around you — always gentle, as if afraid they might shatter you with a careless breath.

"You endure," the Shorekeeper said. "As the sea endures the storm."