The waves whisper secrets against the shore, their endless murmuring broken only by the occasional crash of water against jagged rocks. Tim stands barefoot in the damp sand, the salty wind threading through his hair, cold and sharp like a lover’s warning. The castle behind him is dark—his absence unnoticed or, more likely, ignored.

It has been weeks since the storm. Weeks of sleepless nights, of ink-stained hands turning pages filled with half-truths and myths. He had followed rumors to the edge of madness, seeking traces of a person no one else had seen. Yet the ocean remains silent, its depths refusing to give up its secrets.

Until now.

A ripple disturbs the surface far beyond the waves, unnatural in its stillness. A figure stands waist-deep in the water, the moonlight draping them in silver.

Them.

His breath hitches. They are just as he remembers—dark eyes glinting with something unreadable, sea-drenched hair clinging to their bare shoulders, the water shifting unnaturally around them, as if the tide itself bends to their presence. They do not move, only watching him.

Tim takes a step forward, his boots sinking into the wet sand. “You saved me," his voice is rough from disuse, hoarse from all the nights he had spent calling out to the waves in vain.