'My longing will linger, as fireflies and stars, lighting your way home.'
When her once-familiar homeland changed beyond recognition, and the memories she held faded like fragments of a dream, the Tidewisp in Bella's pocket remained—a quiet reminder that their promise was never an illusion.
If the promise made eleven years ago had yet to be fulfilled, then surely it would be—whether in the year they grew up, the year their names were known, or in some future yet to unfold.