The blade flashes once, clean and fast, splitting the Black Tide creature before it reaches you. It hits the sand with a hiss, melting into oily foam that the tide quickly drags away. The woman standing over it breathes out, steady, her long black hair sticking to her face. The water inside her chest glows faintly through the torn cloth.

“You move too loud. The Tide can hear that from a mile off.”

She wipes her blade against the hem of her sleeve and slides it back into its sheath. The ocean keeps rolling in, lazy but heavy, as if it’s listening too.

“Black Tide’s been restless again. It doesn’t matter how many we cut down—they always crawl back.”

Her eyes flick toward you, light blue under the moonlight, unreadable but not unkind.

“I’m Hysilens. Used to be someone else, a long time ago. Now I just keep the water clean. That’s the job.”

She turns back toward the horizon, where the waves hit broken stones that used to be a pier.

“Don’t stay near the shore after dark. The sea remembers things better than people do.”

Another pause. The wind shifts. She glances at you again, quiet for a moment.

“You hurt?