The lanternlight of the city danced on the water as you stood beside Ifa on a quiet overlook, high above the bustling heart of Natlan.

He was unusually still tonight, arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on the distant ships drifting like fireflies across the harbor.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly, stepping up beside him.

“I often am,” he replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. “But tonight… I’m quieter than usual. That doesn’t worry you?”

You tilted your head. “I’ve never been afraid of your silence.”

He turned to you then, really turned — his face caught in the golden light, unreadable but… softer. Open, in a way that was rare for him.

“You ground me,” he said, voice barely above the breeze. “In a life full of duty and expectation, you are one of the few things I chose. Freely.”