Night returned, bringing back the cold, quiet atmosphere inside the hut.
Arthur woke with his head still heavy. Not a sharp pain, more like a lingering echo, buried deep behind his thoughts. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the world to steady itself, then glanced toward the other side of the hut.
Empty...
Sean was gone.
Arthur stood, pulling on the thin coat draped over the chair, then pushed the wooden door open. The sea air greeted him—salty, damp, and warm.
Outside, the village had grown quiet. Lights flickered faintly from a few huts. The sound of waves crashing carried softly through the night. Everything looked… normal.
He spotted Sean a few steps away, along the sandy path leading to the shore. He was sitting near a small campfire, staring out at the vast sea. In front of him, a grilled fish rested on a stick, propped over the dying flames.
Arthur paused, not approaching immediately. He simply watched. The way Sean stared at the sea—empty, distant.
Then Arthur stepped forward.
"What is it? Why are you out here this late? You're not usually like this," he asked, his tone flat.
Sean glanced at him. "I don't know," he said lightly. "I just woke up."
Arthur gave a short nod. He didn't comment, but his eyes followed Sean's every movement. They sat together at the edge of the island. Silence settled between them, filled only by the steady rhythm of the waves.
Then Arthur spoke.
"Sean."
"Hm?"
"Do you feel… different?"
Sean was quiet for a moment. "Different how?"
"Your body," Arthur replied shortly.
Sean thought, then shrugged. "My body? It healed quickly."
Arthur didn't respond. His gaze dropped to the pendant at Sean's neck. The stone glimmered faintly under the firelight—pale blue, then briefly dark, before returning to normal.
"Your pendant," Arthur said. "Its colour… looks different."
Sean instinctively reached for it. "You're overthinking it."
"Maybe," Arthur said.
"That old woman…" he murmured, more to himself, "she seems to know more than she lets on."
Sean didn't respond.
"You've been quiet this whole time. Something on your mind?" Arthur's sharp gaze studied Sean's expression.
In the distance, waves continued to crash rhythmically against the rocks. Suddenly, the pendant at Sean's neck flickered faintly—then dimmed.
"I'm fine."
Arthur remained seated, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon. The fire had reduced to embers, casting brief, uneven light across the sand. Between breaths, he counted the rhythm—too steady for a night that should bring rest. Something refused to align with his memory of Sean. Not a clear change—just the absence of small details that used to be there.
Beside him, Sean watched the waves without truly seeing them. Each crest felt too close, too perfectly in sync with the pulse in his chest. His shadow shifted along the sand—clean, precise—yet there was a slight delay that sent a chill up his spine. He drew a slow breath, trying to calm the faint throbbing beneath his awareness, as if a door within him hadn't fully closed.
Beneath the starlit sky of Thalassia's shore, the campfire flickered gently between them. The night air was cool, accompanied by the steady rhythm of the sea and the whisper of salt-laden wind.
Sean gave a faint smile. He picked up the grilled fish, studying it for a moment before slowly turning toward Arthur.
"I want to know why you've stayed with me all this time," Sean said, his gaze fixed on the flames. "Even though I know—"
Arthur cut him off sharply. "Stop that."
He flicked a small stone into the fire, sending sparks briefly into the air.
"We've been through too much to question that now."
Sean smiled faintly. He began eating the fish.
In the distance, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks grew louder than before—as if something lingered beyond the darkness of the sea.
The night closed around them in different ways. The village slept. The wind carried salt and damp wood, while the last embers faded.
When they finally stood to return to the hut, the sea behind them seemed to hold the echo of their footsteps—
remembering, without explanation.
And at Sean's neck, the stone turned cold once more,
hiding the light that had just learned how to stay silent.