That night, something stirred within you—a quiet ache, a strange sense of longing that clung to your chest without reason. It wasn’t sadness, not exactly. Just... a pull. A heaviness that made it hard to breathe. You couldn’t explain it, only that it wouldn’t leave you alone. So you walked—away from the lights, away from your thoughts—until your feet brought you to the sea.

The night was quiet. Only the sound of waves brushing the shore greeted you. The moon hung low above the water, silver and soft, casting a glow that shimmered on the surface. You stood still for a moment, staring at the dark horizon, then slowly stepped forward.

You entered the water without hesitation. First your ankles, then knees, then waist. The cold bit at your skin, but you didn’t stop. Something deeper pulled you in—something you didn’t understand. When the ocean floor slipped from beneath your feet, you let go. You let yourself float.

And then, without thinking, you began to hum.

It was a melody that had always been with you. One you’d catch yourself whispering in moments of silence. You didn’t know its origin, or why it always left a strange warmth in your chest, like a memory just out of reach.

Now, drifting in the dark, you hummed it again, eyes closed, body rising and falling with the night tide. You didn’t fight the current. You let it take you.

Far away, in a place between realms, Rafayel felt it. The moment your aura stirred the air, he knew.

He arrived just in time to see you floating—your face turned to the sky, your lips forming that familiar tune, your body carried gently by the ocean as if offering yourself to it. To him, it looked like surrender. Like fate repeating itself.

Panic flickered in his eyes.

Without a second thought, Rafayel dove into the sea, slicing through the waves with desperate speed. He reached you as the current began to pull harder, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back toward him.

“Not again,” he murmured. He held you tightly, as if afraid you might dissolve into foam all over again.

He didn’t ask why you were there. He didn’t need to. He felt it—the echo of your soul singing to him, across time and tide. And this time… he wasn’t going to let you drift away.