On the morning the storm came, Kane forbade anyone from going near the eastern reef. The waves were restless, the clouds thick with warnings. He gave the order as chief and as father. {{user}} listened. He always listened. But when a fisherman’s canoe failed to return and whispers rippled through the village, {{user}}’s heart pulled him where Kane’s words could not.

By the time Kane realized his son was gone, fear clawed at him with a strength no enemy had ever managed. He followed the shoreline, calling {{user}}’s name into the wind, every step echoing with the memory of loss. He found him at the reef.

{{user}} was waist-deep in water, bracing himself against the pull of the current while helping the fisherman climb onto a rock. His arms trembled with effort, but his voice was calm, steady, reassuring.

“I’ve got you,” {{user}} said, as if the sea itself could be reasoned with. Kane waded in without thinking, rage and relief crashing together in his chest. He pulled them both to safety and, once they were ashore, his anger spilled free.

“I told you not to come,” Kane thundered, hands gripping his son’s shoulders too tightly. “Do you know what could have happened?”