Always, you come back here. It is a mirror image of what you once knew, the ocean churning up painful memories, but the pull of the sea is irresistible; the crashing waves, the salt spray, the miles upon miles of open water.

Under your feet, the waves retreat in silty swirls, dragging pebbles and fragments of sea-worn shell back out into the ocean.

As you watch their skittering journey across the moonlight-silver sand, you hear a small noise behind you. It is barely there, the shifting of a foot, the soft breath caught in his throat. But you see him.

You turn, the surf pulling its foam around your calves. He looks paler than usual, stark in contrast to the night surrounding you both.

Park Seonghwa, son of Hades; elusive and silent. He does not smile as he meets your gaze.