We waited where we said we would.
The place didn't look special if you didn't know what you were looking for. A narrow strip of rock where the land sloped gently toward the sea, smoothed down by years of wind and footsteps and time. The waves reached it without urgency, brushing the edge like they were allowed here—but no more.
I sat down, tucking my legs in, shoes kicked off beside me. The stone was cool, steady. The air smelled faintly of salt, but also dust and dry grass from the land behind us.
Xylan sat nearby, not crowding me, just… there. Solid. Like he'd decided that wherever this went, he wasn't moving.
"I feel freer here," I said after a while.
He glanced over. "Here as in… the coast?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Or maybe just away from everything else."
The sea stretched out in front of us, endless and unreadable.
"Back there," I said, "everything's noise. People watching, waiting, judging. Even when they like me, it still feels like they're holding onto a version of me that isn't fully real."
Xylan stayed quiet. He was good at that—letting things land.
"I don't hate what I do," I added. "I just don't love who I have to be while doing it. Smiling at the right moments. Saying the right things. Pretending it doesn't get exhausting."
I picked at the edge of the rock with my fingers.
"This," I said, gesturing around us, "doesn't ask anything from me. I can just exist."
Xylan exhaled slowly. "You don't sound bored."
"I'm not," I said. "This is the most alive I've felt in a long time. Way more exciting than pretending my life is perfect on camera."
That got a small smile out of him.
We sat like that, watching the light shift, the sea darkening inch by inch as the sun lowered. Time felt stretched thin—not empty, just open.
"So… what if nothing happens?" I muttered. "Do we just… keep sitting here like this was all part of some very dramatic plan?"
Xylan smirked. "Then we pretend it was intentional."
I glanced at him. "You're saying this was strategy?"
"Obviously," he said, shrugging. "Very advanced. Lots of sitting. Very mysterious."
I rolled my eyes, but the tightness in my chest loosened a little. Waiting didn't feel so heavy with Xylan around.
I wasn't scared.
That was the strange part.
I should've been nervous, waiting like this. Waiting for messengers. Waiting for proof that we weren't wrong.
But instead, I felt calm. Grounded.
"If nothing happens," I said quietly, "I think I'd still be okay."
Xylan looked at me. "You don't mean that."
"I do," I said. "Trying matters. Even if it leads nowhere."
The wind shifted.
Not from the sea.
From behind us.
Footsteps crunched softly against the small rocks. Two of them this time.
My breath caught.
Xylan stiffened. "Hooded," he muttered. "Two of them."
I nodded. "From the land. Didn't sneak in from the coast this time."
The sound came closer. Unhurried. Certain.
I stood slowly, turning. Two figures emerged from the narrow path between dry grass and stone. Both cloaked, hoods low. The fabric stiff in the light wind.
They moved in sync, careful, measured. Not hostile. Not friendly. Purposeful.
I peeked at Xylan. "They… look serious."
He nodded. "No joking around."
I raised an eyebrow. "Good. Because I definitely wasn't planning to fight anyone in hooded cloaks today."
Xylan smirked faintly. "Yeah, I think I missed the 'bring a weapon' memo."
The figures stopped a few steps away. Close enough for their presence to press against my senses.
My heart started racing—not with fear, but recognition.
"They came from the land," I whispered.
Xylan's voice was low. "Like they didn't want anyone noticing their entrance."
I straightened. The pull was there again. Like something in the air had finally decided to pay attention to me.
Whatever this was, whoever they were—
I wasn't running.
Because this time, I wasn't waiting to be chosen.
I was ready to be answered.