SERAPHINA’S POV
Seabreeze did not let go easily.
I’d known my time here was finite, but that didn’t soften the ache when the end finally arrived.
The final days blurred together, a bittersweet rush of tender moments.
Corin was relentless but kind, pushing me through variations of psychic exercises until my head buzzed and my limbs felt like jelly attachments.
By then, he’d stopped hovering, stopped correcting every breath and every misstep. He only intervened when I genuinely lost my footing—psychically or otherwise.
“The rest,” he told me one morning as we stood barefoot at the edge of the water, foam licking at our ankles, “you’ll have to do on your own.”
I glanced at him sideways. “That’s it? No ominous warnings? No cryptic prophecy?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’ll hear enough of those without my help.”
He handed me a small, smooth stone, pale and veined faintly with blue. Warm. Steady.
