Chapter 5
The Black Shores did not measure time in hours.
They measured it in returns.
Dino realized this when he noticed the kettle.
He was certain he hadn't filled it.
Yet there it was, resting over a low flame that burned without wood, without smoke. The water inside did not boil—it waited, as if unsure whether it was allowed to become hot.
He stared at it for a long moment.
"…You're doing this on purpose," he muttered, unsure whether he was addressing the house, the island, or himself.
The kettle did not respond.
That, too, was suspicious.
Luna sat at the table, chin resting on her palm, watching him with open amusement. Her scythe leaned against the wall beside her, its blade curved like a crescent moon. Despite its presence, the room felt peaceful—domestic in a way Dino had not experienced since before the word war had meaning.
"You've been standing there for a while," she said.
"I'm deciding whether to pour the water," Dino replied seriously.
She blinked. "It's tea."
"Yes. But once poured, it commits to being drunk."
Luna laughed.
It was not loud. Not elegant. It escaped before she could stop it, bright and genuine.
The house reacted.
The flame warmed. The kettle began to sing.
Dino froze.
"…Did it just"
"Yes," Luna said smugly. "You've been accepted."
"I've been accepted by worse places," he muttered, pouring the tea anyway.
They sat together.
The cups were mismatched. One bore a faint crack that had been repaired rather than erased. The other was pristine, untouched by use or damage.
Naturally, the cracked one ended up in front of Dino.
He didn't comment.
The tea tasted… ordinary.
That unsettled him more than divine nectar ever could.
"Why here?" Luna asked suddenly. "Of all places, of all endings—why the Black Shores?"
Dino took a slow sip before answering.
"Because nothing here asks me to be more than I am," he said. "Everywhere else demands I become something again."
Luna nodded. "A god. A monster. A solution."
"A mistake," he added.
She studied his face. "And here?"
"…Here I'm just a man with a scabbard and no sword."
Her gaze flicked briefly to Eternum by the door.
"A lie," she said gently. "But a comforting one."
Outside, the tide withdrew.
Footprints appeared in the wet sand—old ones, layered beneath new. Some were large. Some small. Some had no clear shape at all.
The island had been lonely for a long time.
"You know," Luna said, swirling her tea, "if we stay, people will come."
Dino shrugged. "They always do."
"They'll bring questions."
"They always do."
"They'll bring expectations."
He smiled faintly. "That's new."
She raised an eyebrow. "Scared?"
"No," he answered honestly. "Tired."
She considered that, then stood and walked to the door. The wind caught her white hair, lifting it like a banner of moonlight. She looked back at him, red eyes steady.
"Then stay tired," she said. "I'll handle the rest."
That was not a promise.
It was a declaration.
Dino felt something shift—not in the world, not in fate—but in himself. A tension he had carried since before history loosened, just slightly.
"I should warn you," he said. "I'm not good at normal."
Luna smirked. "Good. I'm bad at peaceful."
They stepped outside together.
The Black Shores stretched endlessly, but no longer felt empty. In the distance, faint figures walked the shoreline—residents, watchers, souls who had nowhere else to go.
They bowed.
Not in reverence. Not in fear.
In acknowledgment.
Above, the moons adjusted again.
Blue Moon shimmered softly. Mirror Moon showed a future where the house was lived in. Celestial Moon aligned, unseen by most but fully aware.
And for the first time since the pre-epoch, Dino did not feel watched.
He felt… accompanied.
"This place suits you," Luna said quietly.
He looked at her.
"It suits us," he corrected.
She didn't deny it.
They walked along the shore, footsteps overlapping, the sea erasing their past paths while preserving the direction they chose together.
Eternity, for once, did not rush ahead.
It stayed.
End of Chapter 5