The water always called, whispering in strange tongues as her blood rushed and the tides surged. Between the moon and her there were no secrets. Nothing hidden from the gloaming that promised its night of strange fables, already stippling her skin as she dreamwalked the shoreline.

As the sky blackened and the dark tides tugged at hearts and heavy heads, the tallest palm on the farthest mountain was burning. Far below in the world of men and warning, only the wise and wyrd raised their eyes to its pinnacle.