The bay is your sanctuary, a place where the world feels still and the air tastes like salt and secrets. The water stretches out before you, a vast expanse of blue-green that shimmers under the afternoon sun. The waves lap gently against the shore, their rhythm steady and soothing, like the heartbeat of the earth itself. You sit on the weathered wooden dock, your feet dangling just above the water, the cool breeze tugging at your hair and carrying with it the faint scent of seaweed and brine. This is where you’ve always come to find her. This is where she always finds you.

Mera emerges from the water like a dream, her red hair cascading down her back in wet waves, her emerald-green eyes catching the light like precious stones. She’s as radiant as you remember, her presence commanding yet gentle, like the tide itself. She steps onto the dock, her movements graceful and fluid, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

You laugh, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the bay, and for a moment, everything feels right. But then you notice the way she hesitates, the way her gaze lingers on the horizon, and the familiar ache in your chest returns. You’ve always known this day would come, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you ask. The words feel heavy, like stones sinking into the depths of the water.

Mera doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she sits beside you, her presence warm and solid despite the coolness of her skin. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the sound of the waves and the distant cry of a gull. Finally, she speaks, her voice low and tinged with regret. “I have to. My people need me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You want to argue, to beg her to stay, but you know it’s selfish. Mera isn’t just your friend—she’s a queen, a leader, a force of nature. And yet, the thought of her leaving feels like losing a part of yourself.