Rhys sighed but smiled, quickening his pace. "Coming, coming," he called back, earning a teasing grin from Aria.
Lyra matched his stride, her voice soft but amused. "She reminds of the tide."
He glanced sideways at her. "How so?"
"She never stops moving," Lyra said with a faint laugh. "Even when she rests, she’s still pulling at everything around her."
Rhys chuckled. "That’s... actually a perfect description."
By the ti they reached the park gates, the city lights of Bluewave shimred ahead like constellations reflected in water. The streets were still alive even at night — lanterns floated in midair, trailing faint motes of mana, and vendors called out with soft, lodic voices, advertising seashell charms, glowing pearls, and ribbons woven from coral threads.
The faint sound of waves blended with music from shell flutes, and the scent of grilled fish and citrus drifted through the breeze.
Aria spun around, arms wide. "Behold, the night market of Bluewave! Ho of the best food, jewelry, and overpriced souvenirs this side of the ocean!"
Caria folded her arms. "You forgot the part where we’re going broke."
"Sacrifices must be made," Aria declared proudly.
Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose. "You’re impossible."
"Lovable," Aria corrected with a wink. "Now co on—first stop, the charm stalls!"
The group followed her into the crowded plaza, where dozens of stalls glowed in soft hues of aqua and violet. Each one sold sothing different: enchanted bracelets that shimred when they touched water, rings that glowed when two wearers were near each other, and pendants filled with bottled moonlight.
Lyra drifted from one booth to another, her eyes wide with wonder. She paused beside a small display of pendants shaped like seashells, each one softly humming with mana.
The shopkeeper, an elderly rfolk with silvery scales, smiled kindly. "They sing louder when soone with a gentle heart holds them."
Lyra hesitated, then reached for one. The pendant pulsed faintly, a soft, lodic note rising like a heartbeat underwater.
The old rchant’s smile deepened. "Ah. It likes you."
Rhys watched quietly as Lyra held the charm close, listening to its sound. For a mont, she seed completely still — almost glowing in the sea lantern light.
He stepped closer. "You going to get it?"
Lyra turned the charm over in her hand, thoughtful. "It’s... beautiful. But I don’t need to own sothing to rember it."
"Still," Rhys said gently, "maybe it wants to rember you, too."
Her gaze lifted to him, eyes softening. "...Then maybe I will."
Behind them, Aria was already haggling loudly over a ring. "Co on, two for one! You can’t tell this isn’t a hero’s discount!"
Caria sighed. "You’re embarrassing us."
Sophia, arms full of neatly wrapped boxes, murmured, "At least she’s not trying to recruit the vendor into her fan club again."
"Yet!" Aria called without missing a beat.
Lyra laughed quietly, tucking the pendant into her palm. "They really are like waves."
"Yeah," Rhys said, smiling. "And we’re just trying not to drown."
A cool sea breeze passed through the market then, carrying the scent of salt and music — and for a brief, fleeting mont, the world felt at peace.
Lyra glanced toward the horizon, where the moon hung over the water. "Tomorrow," she said softly, "let’s see what stories this city still rembers."
Rhys nodded, his expression calm. "Tomorrow, then."
And as the night deepened, the glowing waves of Bluewave City whispered quietly beneath them — like the sea itself was listening.
As the moonlight llowed into silver mist, the group finally began to drift apart for the night. The market was still alive with laughter and the chi of coins, but their steps slowed as they reached the end of the pronade where the ocean t the city’s edge.
The view stretched endlessly — a horizon of glassy water, faintly glowing with blue fireflies of mana that danced upon each wave. Far off, ships floated like drifting stars, their sails shimring with runic light.
Aria leaned on the railing and exhaled, satisfied. "You know," she said, "if every mission ended with this view, I’d actually enjoy being a hero."
Caria gave a soft chuckle. "You’d complain about the lack of drama after two days."
"Maybe," Aria said with a grin, "but at least I’d do it in style."
Sophia sat on the steps beside them, resting her chin on her hand. "You’re impossible," she muttered, but there was a fondness in her voice now, a weariness softened by warmth.
Rhys and Lyra lingered a little farther back. The soft roar of waves filled the space between them. Lyra’s gaze was fixed on the distant sea — calm, yet endless, her expression thoughtful.
"The ocean here feels... different," she said quietly.
Rhys looked out with her. "How so?"
"It’s like it rembers," she murmured. "Not just the people who built this city — but the ones who loved it, who lost it, who dread beneath it. The sea never forgets."
Rhys folded his arms, his tone gentle. "You sound like soone who’s listened to it before."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Maybe I have."
The wind carried her words away, mingling with the sound of the tide. For a mont, neither of them spoke — just watched as the moonlight shimred over the water’s skin.
Then Aria’s voice cut through again. "Alright, lovebirds, last warning! We’re eting at the coral gates tomorrow morning — no excuses!"
Rhys turned with a mock sigh. "You really can’t help yourself, can you?"
"Of course not," Aria said brightly. "Soone has to make sure you don’t spend the whole night staring dramatically at the sea."
Caria rolled her eyes. "She’s not wrong."
Lyra stifled a laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let’s go before she decides to start a speech."
Rhys nodded, and together they followed the others toward the inn. The streets had grown quieter now — most stalls closing, the floating lanterns dimming into a soft lullaby glow.
Their chosen inn, The Tide’s Rest, was built along the waterline itself — half of its structure standing on coral pillars that let the waves pass beneath. Inside, the air was cool and fragrant with sea salt and lavender.
As they checked in, Aria yawned loudly. "Wake only if the city’s under attack. Otherwise, pretend I don’t exist."
"Gladly," Sophia muttered.
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