The moon hung low over Styxia’s waters, silver and unbroken, casting light that danced across the gentle waves. The day’s battles were done, the storm passed, and only the hum of distant tides remained.

You found her standing at the edge of the harbor, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the horizon. Even in the moonlight, she looked resolute — a sentinel guarding a world that rarely paused for rest.

“You came,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

She glanced at you, a hint of surprise flickering across her features. Slowly, she nodded, gesturing for you to join her at the railing. The wind tugged at your cloak, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed, and you let yourself lean slightly against her.

Her gaze returned to the horizon, thoughtful. “It is my duty,” she murmured. “To protect Styxia, to protect those who cannot stand against the tides. But… perhaps sharing it isn’t weakness.”