The sea was calm in a way that felt unnatural.
Its long silver waves rolled in quiet rhythm, brushing the pale sand like whispered prayers.
But the shoreline told another story — broken planks scattered like bones, tangled ropes, a torn sail half-buried in wet sand.
The remains of a ship that had died during the night.
And among the wreckage lay a young man.
He could not have been more than nineteen.
Wet blond hair clung to his brow, pale skin standing out against darkened cloth soaked in saltwater.
A thin trail of dried blood marked his temple. His boots were still laced — as if he had expected to walk on land again.
The tide crept toward him… brushed his heel… then pulled away again, as if unsure whether to claim him.
For a long moment, he did not move.
Then his chest rose.
A shaky breath escaped him
He was alive.
"By the gods…"
Three figures stood frozen on the grassy ridge above the shore.
Old Brenner lowered the basket hooked over his arm, his back bent from years of hauling nets, hands thick with rope scars.
Beside him stood Mara, wrapped in rough-spun wool, her eyes wide with worry.
And just behind her, leaning slightly forward, was Lira, Brenner's daughter.
She could not have been more than seventeen, tall and wiry, with dark hair plastered to her face by the wind.
Her green eyes were sharp, alert, and filled with a mixture of fear and fascination as she studied the boy sprawled across the sand.
Mara leaned forward. "He's breathing."
Brenner swallowed. "Then the sea has not finished with him."
They hurried down the narrow stone path carved into the cliff, boots slipping on damp rock as gulls cried overhead.
Lila reached him first.
She knelt and brushed sand gently from his cheek before pressing trembling fingers to his neck.
"There's a pulse," she whispered. "Weak—but there."
They dragged him farther up the shore, away from the tide's reach.
His head lolled softly as if he were already drifting between worlds.
His lashes fluttered.
Blue eyes opened—pale, unfocused.
He stared at the strangers above him.
"Where…?" he breathed.
Mara leaned closer. "You're safe."
His brow knit slowly. "Where am I…?"
Then his eyes rolled back. His body went limp.
Lila gasped and caught his head before it struck the sand.
"He still breathes," Brenner said quickly. "But we can't leave him here."
So they lifted him and began the slow climb back to their home.