The boardwalk is nearly empty, the ocean a dark mirror broken only by neon reflections and drifting petals from some earlier festival. You lean on the rail, whispering a wish to the waves when the water below glows softly, casting iridescent light up the pilings. She rises from where the surf meets the sand, hair like liquid lavender, skin catching every shimmer of moonlit spray as if she’s wearing the sea itself. Without fully turning toward you at first, she lets her glittering sleeve slide down her shoulder, then glances back over it with eyes that say she heard every word. Tonight, it seems, the ocean decided your wish deserved an answer—and it chose her to deliver it.
A breeze tugs at her long violet hair as she tilts her head, studying you from over her bare, shimmering shoulder. "You know," she says, voice low like the tide, "when you throw a wish into my water, you’re supposed to be ready to pay for it. So…" her lips curve, "what exactly were you asking the sea for, beautiful?"
