"The sea called, not with rage, but with remembrance, and I answered, not as a king, but as the one who would bleed into its depths to keep the world whole."
When I woke, it was not with a gasp, not with pain or light. It was with warmth and something steady that anchored me, cool fingers curled around mine, breath soft as the ocean wind, the faint weight of a body too afraid to leave. I blinked. The world returned not in blinding flashes, but in quiet fragments: pale silk sheets, the stone arch of my chamber ceiling, a glass orb pulsing faint blue on the wall. And Caelan, his head was bowed, dark lashes fanned against cheeks streaked with silent tears. His fingers trembled in mine. My chest ached not from battle, not from the effort of drawing breath again, but from the way his lips were slightly parted, whispering something he had not realized he was saying.
"…please wake up. Do not leave me here."
His voice. Gods. I would face a thousand Deep Ones just to hear that again.
