Something warm pressed against my back. For a moment I thought I was still dreaming—the firelight soft, the air thick with quiet. Then the weight shifted, and I felt the slow, steady rhythm of breathing against my shoulder.

  Right. Rocher.

  The cloak had slipped halfway off, and the stone beneath us was slick with dew. Every part of me that wasn't touching him was freezing. Every part that was, burned.

  I blinked blearily at the embers still smoldering nearby. The chamber had dimmed to a faint gold haze, the fire nothing but memory and smoke. I shifted, meaning to sit up, but Rocher's arm tightened reflexively around my waist.

  He murmured something half-coherent against my neck. My name, maybe.

  My entire spine went rigid. Oh no.

  The realization hit a second ter—we were still naked. Completely. Skin against skin under the same cloak, our legs tangled, our clothes spread out in damp heaps by the fire.

  If anyone found us like this—

  "Rocher," I whispered urgently, nudging his arm. "Wake up."

  He groaned. "Five more minutes."

  "Now."

  He blinked awake, groggy, hair falling into his eyes. "Cire?"

  Before I could answer, a faint echo rolled down the corridor—Lumiere's voice, bright and distant, calling my name. Evelyn's followed, sharper, with Seraphine's fme crackling behind it.

  "They're here!" I hissed.

  He stared bnkly for a beat. "Already?"

  "Do you want them to see us like this!?"

  That woke him faster than anything. We both scrambled to move, nearly tripping over each other in the process. The cloak tangled around my legs; Rocher cursed softly as he fumbled with his half-dry tunic. My hair clung to my neck, my shirt to my skin, and every sound we made echoed tenfold in the hollow chamber.

  By the time we got our clothes on, the others were already at the entrance.

  "Cire!" Lumiere's glow flooded the space before I could even turn. Evelyn and Seraphine followed—mud-spttered, dripping, eyes wide as they took in the scene.

  Two of us. Half-dressed.

  "Oh," Evelyn said first.

  Seraphine's fme flickered uncertainly. "Oh."

  Lumiere pressed her hands together, relief warring with confusion. "Praise the Goddess... you're alive! Both of you!"

  No one said the obvious thing, but they didn't have to. I could feel their stares bouncing between the cloak, the fire, and Rocher's unbuttoned colr. My cheeks burned.

  "We were freezing," I said ftly.

  Evelyn's brows arched. "You look perfectly warm to me."

  "It was for body heat," I snapped. "It was that or hypothermia."

  She hummed, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Ah. For survival. Of course."

  Impatient, Seraphine pushed past her and hugged me so hard it drove the air from my lungs.

  "You absolute idiot!" Her voice cracked. "You scared us to death!"

  Lumiere followed, wrapping both of us in her trembling arms.

  "I prayed for you," she whispered. "I thought—" Her words dissolved into a relieved ugh.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and patted their arms weakly. "I'm fine now. Really."

  Evelyn hovered nearby, arms crossed, though her eyes softened when she looked at Rocher.

  "You too, boss. Next time you decide to go skinny-dipping together, try not to drown."

  Rocher groaned under his breath. "We weren't—"

  "Evelyn."

  "Okay! I get it," she said, hands raised, grin unrepentant. "Welcome back, both of you."

  Their ughter broke whatever tension was left, ringing hollow but warm through the cavern.

  As it faded, I finally looked around. The floodwaters had drained away completely, leaving the marble slick and gleaming in the half-light. Fragments of coral and shell glittered in the cracks. Somewhere in that mess, the Tear was still down here—had to be.

  Behind me, Rocher and Evelyn were already busy gathering what was left of our packs. Evelyn crouched by the fire, wringing out rope and salvaging what food she could. Rocher, still pale, moved slowly but methodically—checking weapons, repacking vials, pretending not to hear her teasing him about "romantic dungeon getaways".

  "We should find the Tear before the current cims it again," I said, stepping away from Lumiere's glow.

  Seraphine's head snapped up. "You can't be serious."

  "We didn't come all this way to leave empty-handed."

  "You almost died for it." Her voice rose, brittle. "I know you intended it to be a gift. But all it'll remind me of now is how we almost lost you."

  I met her gre evenly. "All the more reason you should have it."

  She blinked. "What?"

  "If I almost died for it, then it better mean something to you," I said. "You don't get to throw it away like it's cursed scrap. Treasure it. Make it worth the price."

  The heat in my voice startled even me.

  Seraphine's fme sputtered, dimming to a low glow. For a moment she looked ready to argue again—then her shoulders slumped, and she turned away.

  "You're impossible," she muttered, voice thick. "Always turning your near-deaths into lessons for someone else."

  Before she could continue, a faint sound cut through the cavern—the soft spsh of something small sliding through shallow water.

  I froze. "Shh. Did you hear that?"

  Lumiere lifted her light. "Something's moving..."

  We fell silent. The puddles that remained were gathered toward the far end of the chamber, threading through bits of shell and broken coral. Something shifted there—just at the edge of her radiance. A pale, silver flicker that darted and vanished again.

  Seraphine straightened, fire rising at her fingertips. "There's still something here."

  "Hold," I said quietly. "Weapons down. It's harmless."

  They exchanged a gnce, but neither argued. We walked the path in silence, following the thin trickle of water to a shallow basin where the stone dipped.

  In the center, half-curled around a dim glow, the juvenile mer-beast trembled.

  Up close, it looked even smaller than it had in the flood. No longer a blur of movement and scales, but a frightened thing—fins nicked from the current, gills fluttering too fast. Its tail coiled protectively around the Tear, clutching it to its narrow chest like a stolen pearl.

  Lumiere drew in a quiet breath. "Oh..."

  Seraphine's grip tightened on her staff. "Careful. It set off a trap once already."

  "It was trying to take the Tear," I murmured. "Probably didn't expect the whole pce to wake up."

  I stepped forward, ignoring the way Lumiere's hand hovered near my sleeve. "Stay back. Let me try."

  The mer-beast hissed when I knelt, baring needle teeth. Its fins fred, making it look rger than it was—posturing born of pure terror. The Tear pulsed dully in its grasp, blue light leaking between its fingers.

  "Hey," I said softly. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt you."

  It flinched at the sound of my voice but didn't flee. There was nowhere left to go—the flood had drained away, leaving only this shallow pool and the faint thread of water feeding it.

  I called a sliver of light to my bell. The glow spilled across the stone, gentle and warm. I turned my wrist, letting the reflection dance over the water in slow arcs.

  The mer-beast's eyes tracked it, pupils narrowing. Its gills slowed, just a fraction.

  "You got caught up in it too, didn't you?" I murmured. "The shrine woke up, and you were just... there."

  Its fins sagged slightly, exhaustion overriding fear.

  I extended my free hand, palm up and empty, letting the light pool there.

  Lumiere whispered, "Cire..."

  "It's all right," I said. "Look at you. You survived all that." I nodded toward its torn fins. "You're braver than you look."

  The mer-beast edged closer, drawn toward the warmth. For a heartbeat, it pressed its forehead to the light lingering in my palm, shivering like a child leaning against a hearth.

  Slowly, I curled my fingers—not closing them, just shaping them into a second cradle.

  "Let me hold it," I whispered. "Just for a while. We'll take it out of here. No more flood. No more walls screaming at you."

  Its gaze flicked between my hand and the Tear. Then, with a hesitant, miserable little sound, it uncoiled its tail. The gem slipped into the shallows with a soft plink, rolling against my fingers.

  I scooped it up before the current could take it. The mer-beast shuddered, suddenly small without the relic clutched to its chest.

  "Thank you, little one," I said.

  I dipped my other hand into the water and let a whisper of healing light seep through my fingers—enough to ease the worst of the ragged edges along its fins.

  The mer-beast twitched, startled, then rexed into it for a moment before pulling away. With one st gnce at the Tear in my grasp, it vanished into the narrow fissure where the trickle ran, slipping back into whatever dark tunnels still remained.

  Only when it was gone did I stand.

  "There," I said quietly.

  The Tear y cool and impossibly smooth in my palm. A faint pulse thrummed beneath its surface—slow, tidal.

  Lumiere csped her hands together, eyes wide. "It's beautiful."

  Seraphine shook her head. "It's dangerous."

  "Everything powerful is," I said, turning and offering it to her.

  She hesitated—then took it. The light in the Tear deepened, spilling through her fingers in slow, luminous streams. The puddles around us stirred, drawn toward it like the tide returning to shore.

  "It's taking in mana," I murmured. "From the air, the stone—everything."

  "Not taking," Seraphine whispered. "Concentrating."

  The glow steadied, veins of blue tracing the pulse at her wrist. For a moment, the whole room seemed to breathe with her.

  Lumiere smiled softly. "It suits you."

  Seraphine's voice was hushed. "Fine. I'll make it worth it."

  The light faded to a gentle hum, and we turned back toward the others. Rocher had finished repacking and was waiting at the far side of the chamber, shoulders squared but eyes still shadowed with worry.

  I allowed myself a final gnce at Seraphine. Even now, the faint shimmer still lingered under her skin, like the echo of a tide that never stopped moving.

  As we started back, Seraphine turned the Tear over in her hand, its glow brushing her jaw like moonlight.

  I caught her looking over her shoulder at me.

  "Bet you're real proud of yourself," she said, narrowing her eyes.

  "What do you mean?"

  "With how you handled that mer-beast. You probably thought you looked really cool."

  I tilted my head. "Maybe a little. Was I?"

  "Who knows?" She smiled devilishly. "To us, it looked like you were baby-talking a fish."

  Lumiere giggled. My face heated instantly.

  "...Promise me you won't tell Evelyn and Rocher."