Rocher woke to gulls crying over the surf.

  The fire had long since died, leaving only the hiss of the tide and the faint scent of smoke clinging to his hair. Cire still slept in his arms, her breath soft against his shoulder. For a fleeting, unguarded moment, he let himself look—really look—at her. The peaceful curve of her mouth. The faint smudge of ash along her cheek.

  Then memory cut through the haze, slow as a drawn bde.

  He eased her upright before anyone else stirred. Morning light broke across the sand, bright and merciless, and his guilt sharpened under it. The scent of her lingered on his chest, sweet and human against the smoke.

  What had he done?

  He'd stopped himself before it was too te—just barely. He was grateful he'd sworn off drinking after the night he'd cost Lumiere her light. But the sober memory of Cire's breath catching against his skin, the tremor in his own hands... it didn't ease the guilt. It only deepened it.

  He brushed sand from his forearms, half hoping she'd wake and scold him, demand an expnation—anything that would make the moment real. Instead, she only yawned, stretching like a cat.

  "Morning," she murmured, eyes still half-lidded. "You were out collecting firewood. When did you get back?"

  His throat went dry. "Uh. Pretty te? You fell asleep."

  She blinked blearily. "Ugh. My head's killing me. I'm terrible with alcohol. Hope I didn't do anything weird."

  Rocher swallowed. "Nothing memorable."

  That was the lie that hurt most.

  She smiled—bright, guileless, beautiful—and began gathering cups from around the dead fire. Her hair was tangled, her voice hoarse, but she moved with her usual brisk cheer. No hesitation. No shame. Not even a flicker of memory.

  He lingered, staring at the shadow she cast across the sand, trying to reconcile it with the warmth that had burned beneath his hands the night before.

  When Evelyn's voice rang from the shore, Cire waved and jogged toward her, ughter carrying on the morning wind.

  Rocher pressed his palms together, staring at the faint shimmer of lotion still clinging to his skin—and the ghostly red mark above it, where her lips had been.

  She had forgotten everything.

  And somehow, that felt worse than being despised.

  "Come on. There's one more pce I want to visit before we go."

  My voice came out hoarse. I stole sips of water when no one was looking; it seemed I was the only one paying for st night's excess.

  "You're pale," Lumiere said, peering up at me. "Are you sure you're well enough to travel?"

  "Perfectly fine," I croaked. "Just a little light-sensitive."

  Evelyn stretched, smug and radiant. "And here I thought you were keeping up so well with me st night. Tragic."

  I pressed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. "One of us forgot to hydrate between rounds."

  Seraphine yawned zily. "And you still intend to explore a dungeon in your state?"

  "If anything, I think the dark and quiet will do me some good. I'll be fine—"

  Another headache caused me to rub my temples.

  Rocher piped up. "You don't have to push yourself, Cire. We can rest another day if you're not feeling—"

  "I said I'm fine, Hero." The word slipped out sharper than I meant. "Besides, it's your turn to carry the equipment. You've been scking since dawn."

  He blinked. "Scking?"

  "Unless your definition of leadership includes moping."

  His shoulders fell. Guilt pricked, but before I could open my mouth to soften the blow—

  "This the pce?"

  We found the alcove around the bend, at the edge of the ke.

  Morning mist clung to the water, veiling it like fogged gss. Beneath it, half-hidden among reeds and stone, an archway waited—carved deep into the rock face. A steady stream of pale water spilled from its mouth, rippling over the pebbled shore.

  "That's it," I said, kneeling beside the runoff. "The entrance to the submerged shrine. The Tear of the Ocean should be somewhere inside."

  "Funny name for something buried under a ke," Evelyn remarked.

  "Apparently, this was a sea once." I traced the ripples absently. "The story goes that an ocean god's lover was abandoned here. Her body became the ke, and her grief crystalized into the Tear."

  Or at least, that's the lore from the game.

  Seraphine brushed her thumb across the inscription circling the arch. "The script's ancient. I can't even read it."

  Lumiere waded closer, the hem of her dress soaking dark.

  "There's power sleeping down there," she murmured. "Not evil—but lonely."

  "Good," I said. "Means we definitely have the right pce."

  Evelyn stretched, golden skin catching the light. "So what's the pn? Dive in and pray we don't drown?"

  I shook my head. "There's a mechanism that should cause the entrance to surface. Problem is, the switch is underwater. We'll need two of our strongest swimmers."

  Rocher looked up from the pile of gear, already guessing where this was going. "You're volunteering me, aren't you?"

  "Of course. You've got the strength and hero-grade lung capacity. Lumiere's too light, and Seraphine's hair would probably get caught on something."

  Seraphine frowned. "I could cut it, you know?"

  Evelyn grinned. "Don't. I like the way it floats when you cast spells."

  Rocher sighed and unbuckled his harness. "Fine. Let's just get it done."

  He stripped off his tunic, then his undershirt, folding both neatly on a rock. The morning light struck the water and scattered across his torso—and that's when I saw them.

  A few faint marks, reddish and uneven, speckled over his shoulders and upper chest.

  "Oh?" I teased. "And who's the lucky dy?"

  He froze. "What?"

  I gestured broadly. "These. Either you wrestled an octopus when we weren't looking, or someone got very affectionate."

  Lumiere flushed to her ears. "Cire!"

  Evelyn's grin sharpened. "Now this, I have to hear."

  I crossed my arms. "So? Was it someone from the st vilge? Or—" I smiled, "don't tell me it was someone here?"

  A small relief entered my heart. I hadn't seen him make much progress with the heroines, so I thought I might have permanently damaged his psyche with my kick. If he suddenly developed a phobia, that could cause problems down the line.

  I gnced around eagerly for clues, but could see no visible marks on anyone else. At least, not above the colr.

  Rocher's ears burned red. "Can we not do this right now?"

  "Rex, Mister Rocher, it's just curiosity. Statistically speaking, at least one of us must be your type."

  I smiled sweetly. Or all of them, I thought, but I kept it to myself.

  He looked stricken.

  Evelyn barked a ugh. "Oh, I'd love to hear who he thinks that is."

  He shot her a helpless look, then muttered something incoherent and dove before I could press further. Water spshed up against my boots.

  Evelyn stretched again, smirking. "Guess I'm his backup. Someone's gotta make sure he doesn't try to drown himself in shame."

  She slipped into the water after him—graceful as a seal, gone in a shimmer of blue.

  For a long moment, I just stood with Seraphine and Lumiere, watching the surface settle.

  "Only one person it could be," Seraphine muttered under her breath. "You really don't remember, do you?"

  "Remember what?"

  Last night was a blur. I remembered wine, cheese, stories by the fire—then I must have knocked out.

  "Nothing." She stuck out her tongue. "Just wondering how long before you figure it out."

  I frowned, rubbing my temple. "Between the hangover and your cryptic nonsense, I'm already at capacity."

  Lumiere coughed delicately. "Should we… prepare the wards?"

  "Yes," I said, briskly. "Let's do something productive while the divers handle the switch."

  But as I traced sigils into the sand, the others' gnces gnawed at me. Their amusement. The half-hidden smiles.

  And no matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn't stop thinking how the marks on Rocher's chest looked—just a little—familiar.