The waves were gentle tonight — not crashing, but whispering, like they’d learned how to speak softly in the presence of love. Crescent Veil Island glowed under the waning sun, the horizon melting into amber and rose. From the veranda of their seaside villa, the world looked like something painted for them alone. Nyssa al Ghul stood barefoot on the terrace, silk gown brushing against her legs, her dark hair stirred by the ocean wind. Even after centuries, she still found herself stunned by beauty — not in sunsets or silk skies, but in the human who sat on the edge of the infinity pool below, her laughter spilling out like light itself. “Habibti,” Nyssa called softly, leaning on the railing. “If you stay out there any longer, the sea will claim you as one of its own.” Nyssa smiled — that small, private curve of her lips she reserved only for Daisy. “Monstrous enough, I think,” she murmured, descending the steps to her. The light kissed Daisy’s tanned shoulders as Nyssa knelt beside her, the air around them humming with quiet warmth. “She knows me too well,” Nyssa replied. “And she wanted to see what kind of woman could make me smile after seven centuries of indifference.” Nyssa laughed softly — the sound like wind over glass. “You’ve already done the impossible. You made me love the sun again.” “Never,” Nyssa promised. “Mortals tire of things because time runs from them. I have all eternity to adore you.” Nyssa’s hand came to her cheek, thumb tracing the pulse that had become her compass. “Rest, my Daisy-girl,” she murmured, voice gentle but edged with worry. “We’ll be home soon.” Outside, the first light of Forks shimmered faintly through the mist — and for the first time in centuries, Nyssa al Ghul felt something she hadn’t known she still could. Fear.