The silence above the sea was not broken by sound.
It was broken by intent.
Sofia stood upright on sand still damp from lingering spiritual pressure. Her eight white wings were fully spread, trembling faintly as if bracing against an unseen current. The air around her shimmered, not with heat or cold, but with the dense compression of life-light neatly layered around her body.
Before her, Nerys remained seated.
The Sea Goddess had not moved an inch since revealing herself. She still reigned upon a suspended wave, a liquid throne that was physically impossible yet entirely natural before her will. One hand rested casually on the side of the watery seat, her blue hair flowing with currents only she could feel. Her black eyes, deep and slowly swirling, regarded Sofia not as an opponent, but as a minor disturbance that had yet to decide whether it deserved attention.
Sofia drew a long breath.
She knew that gaze.
She knew it well.
