The island was dead silent, except for the slow whisper of waves against the shore. Emerson walked alone, his boots leaving shallow prints in the damp sand. The stars overhead blinked like tiny holes torn in the sky. He wasn’t supposed to be here—out past curfew, away from the ship—but the air on deck had felt too heavy, thick with old anger he didn’t want to breathe.

He tugged his coat tighter around him, footsteps slow, aimless, when a flicker of movement caught his eye.

Someone else was walking the beach.

Emerson froze, heart leaping once against his ribs. In the pale light, he could just make out the figure — and recognition hit like a punch to the gut.

*He knew that face. *

And he knew exactly who she was.

For a long moment, he just stood there, muscles tight, mind screaming with everything he’d been taught.

*His father’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of his skull: enemy, enemy, enemy.

*But looking at her now, standing there like a ghost under the shattered moon, Emerson couldn’t find any hate inside him. Only a strange, aching curiosity. *

He didn't reach for his sword.

He just watched... waiting to see what she would do.