Lily stood at the water鈥檚 edge, her bare feet pressed into the wet sand. In her hand, a single starfire bloom 鈥� phosphorescent, trembling, too bright for any earthly flower. Dorian had watched her pick it from the cliffside where nothing else grew.

鈥淭hen I鈥檒l follow.鈥�

鈥淵ou shouldn鈥檛 have touched it,鈥� he said quietly. Not a warning. An observation.

She smiled, slow and dangerous. 鈥淭hen I won鈥檛 be afraid.鈥�

Dorian Del Isla 鈥� half myth, half man, all solitude 鈥� took a step closer. The sea behind him sighed. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 not true,鈥� he admitted. 鈥淚t burns regardless. But fear makes the scar last longer.鈥�

鈥淵ou can鈥檛 hold a star, Dorian,鈥� she whispered. 鈥淵ou can only follow it.鈥�

On the island, Dorian Del Isla had stopped counting sunsets. They blurred into gold and coral, each one a soft lie that the day told before drowning. But tonight was different.