You survived the Deep.
You faced the ancient ones.
You chose each other.
But love, like the ocean, is never still.
It had been two weeks since the storm beneath the waves. Since the sea accepted your bond. Since you felt your heart beat not just for Lumian—but with him.
You hadn't left the coast since.
Every morning, you and Lumian woke tangled in each other beneath linen sheets in the small beachside cottage he built from driftwood and whispers. Every night, the ocean whispered lullabies you now understood in a way you hadn't before.
There was a new language inside you now.
The tide responded when you stood near it.
The wind slowed when you closed your eyes.
And Lumian—he couldn't stop touching you, like he was afraid you'd drift away again.
But you weren't afraid.
You were only waiting.
For what, you didn't know.
Until the stars started to fall.
It happened on the seventh night.
You were lying on the sand, your head in Lumian's lap, watching the sky blur into ink. The stars above began to flicker—then streak across the sky one by one, leaving behind trails of pale blue light that hovered like silk ribbons in the air.
He stilled beneath you.
"Do you see that?" you whispered.
"I do," he said, voice tight.
"They're beautiful."
"They're warnings."
You sat up. "From who?"
"Not who," he murmured. "What."
He took your hand and placed it over his chest.
"Something's shifting. The ocean's not the only thing watching now."
You felt it beneath your palm—his heartbeat, steady and strong, but not alone. Beneath it, like a second pulse… something deeper. Something not human.
"I thought we earned peace," you whispered.
"We did," Lumian said. "But peace isn't the end. It's the eye of something bigger."
The next day, you felt it in your skin.
Power.
It started in small ways. A seashell would rise to meet your fingers before you touched it. Seafoam swirled in patterns when you walked past. You swam without needing to breathe. Your body moved through water like it had never belonged to land.
Lumian watched it all, wonder in his gaze. But there was something else behind it—concern.
"You're changing fast," he said.
"So did you, once."
"Yes, but I was born to it. You weren't supposed to…"
He trailed off.
"Wasn't supposed to what?"
"Awaken this much. Not this quickly."
You met his gaze. "Do you regret it?"
"No," he said, brushing your cheek. "I only fear what it might cost you."
That night, you dreamed again.
Only this time, you weren't alone.
You stood in a place that wasn't water, wasn't sky. A glowing shoreline that curved into nothing. Stars hung close enough to touch.
And someone was there.
A woman made of coral and starlight, her eyes shimmering with moons. Her voice was inside your head, warm and cold all at once.
"You are no longer only of land. You walk where most would drown. You love where most would fear. The Deep has accepted you."
You stared at her. "Why now?"
"Because something is rising. Something older than even we. The ocean will need its protectors."
You woke gasping, sand clinging to your skin like it was trying to anchor you to the earth.
Lumian was beside you instantly, pulling you close.
You told him the dream.
He held you tighter.
"They called you a protector," he said.
"Us," you corrected. "They'll need us."
And so, for the first time, you and Lumian didn't just walk the shore.
You watched it.
Guarded it.
Loved in it.
Fell asleep with the sea touching your toes, your bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces that finally found their fit.
And when the next star fell—
When the tide surged with a force you hadn't yet felt—
You both stood, hand in hand, at the edge of something new.
Together.
Always.