The lighthouse stood alone at the edge of the world, where the cliffs met the sea in a never-ending battle. It was a lonely place, battered by wind and rain, kissed only by the salt of the waves. And yet, it had become a place of quiet comfort for him. Because of her.

Sejanus had watched her from the water for a long time. At first, it was only out of curiosity—how she moved around the lighthouse with quiet determination, how she stood at the edge of the cliffs and let the wind tangle in her hair. But then, the offerings had begun. A plate of bread and fish left on the weathered dock, a bowl of warm broth on colder nights, always left unattended, as if waiting for someone unseen. For him.

He never took much. Just enough to satisfy his hunger before slipping back beneath the waves, always careful not to be caught. But each time, he felt something stir in his chest—something unfamiliar, something that made him linger just a little longer.

Tonight, the sea was restless, the wind howling through the cliffs as he climbed onto the dock, bare feet pressing against the worn wood. The lantern from the lighthouse cast a golden glow over the shore, flickering against the darkness of the night. And there, waiting for him as always, was the small plate of food—carefully set, as if she knew he would come.

But tonight, she was there too.

He froze as he saw her standing near the lighthouse door, half-hidden in the shadows, watching the dock with quiet patience. His breath caught in his throat. Had she known all along? Had she been waiting for him?

For the first time since she started leaving the food, he hesitated. He could disappear back into the waves, pretend this had never happened. But something in the way she stood—the soft tilt of her head, the way the lantern light reflected in her eyes—kept him rooted in place.