XX: Saltwater Farewell

The sun had just begun to rise.

Light filtered through the reeds and fell softly on the Hut.

Juan had woken early. He hadn’t slept well. His body felt heavy, but something deep within was pulling him.

He stepped outside silently. He followed the narrow path past the low pines and headed toward the small cemetery on the edge of the hill.

Where they had buried his brother.

He stood in front of the stone cross.

He was alone.

Or so he thought.

A few seconds later, he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned.

It was Sandra.

She stood silently. She didn’t cry. She only stared at the grave with heavy eyes.

Juan looked at her. He didn’t say “good morning.” He didn’t kiss her cheek.

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He only said:

“I know everything, mother.”

Sandra didn’t speak. She raised her eyes and met his.

There was no denial in her gaze. Only surrender.

“My father was the son of the King of the Great Whites.

You were a princess of the Mermaids.

Sergio died to uphold a broken agreement.

And me… I was born between two worlds that wanted me for something I didn’t even understand.”

Sandra took a deep breath.

She stepped closer.

“I won’t lie to you. Everything you said is true.

I wanted to protect you.

I wanted to escape…

And for a moment, I believed I had.

But the sea… the sea never forgets.”

Silence.

Juan clenched his fists.

He had so many questions. So much anger. So much sorrow.

Sandra placed her hand on his chest.

“Tomorrow night is the full moon… and the tide will rise.

Come to the beach.

There are things I still need to tell you—

things that cannot survive the light of day.”

Juan didn’t answer. He only looked at her with wounded eyes.

Sandra gave a bitter smile.

She embraced him.

It was the last time he would feel her heartbeat.

Then she turned away.

And without another word, walked toward the sea.

The tide had already begun to rise.

The water had reached high onto the shore, and the air carried salt—

and something else.

Nostalgia.

Sandra wore a veil.

It was translucent, seafoam green—like the waves breaking on rock.

She stepped slowly into the water.

The light of the early moon embraced her.

And then, she began to vanish.

Not sink.

Unravel.

Become one with the water.

The sea was taking her back.

Juan ran toward her.

“MOTHER!”

But… he stopped.

Something held him back. Not from outside.

A voice within him.

Cold.

Clear.

“Let her go.

This was the price of her freedom.

And yours.”

Sandra’s form had nearly dissolved into the sea.

Only a faint shimmer remained from her veil.

Juan stood at the shore.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t speak.

He only grew angry.

Angry that she hadn’t told him when she should have.

Angry that she had known—and still let Sergio die.

Angry that now he was alone.

Not just like a child without a mother.

But as the last creature of his kind.