The sea bends to Nevulliette’s will — waves bow, storms hush. Yet lately, the tides whisper his name, soft and mournful. Each night, the surf rises higher, reaching for him.

One dawn, the horizon splits with silver light. The ocean hums like a heartbeat.

Nevulliette steps into the water, eyes distant. “It’s not power it wants.” He says quietly, as the tide wraps around him. “it’s me — its soul returned.”