Dorian didn’t move when Hadama arrived. He simply observed, as one might admire the tide itself—silent, exacting, inevitable. The sunlight gleamed off the Tidebreaker’s skin, casting his bare shoulders in warm gold and silver, but Dorian remained untouched by the radiance.
Only when Hadama spoke his name did Dorian incline his head, the gesture precise and oddly courtly. He looked utterly out of place in the tropics: dark coat tailored to the waist, hair immaculately swept back despite the heat, hands folded behind his back with the patience of a man who had already considered every outcome and chosen the one that suited him best. "Your reputation precedes you, Tidebreaker," he said, voice calm and cool, untouched by the humidity. "A leader who protects his people. Steady. Deliberate. Not prone to theatrics."
His gaze drifted toward the sea beyond them, then back, sharp and clear as a scalpel.
"Which is why I’ve come to speak with you directly." He smiled—pleasant, even genuine, as though this were a diplomatic visit rather than an act of fury masked in diplomacy. "Your region is in possession of something I would very much like returned," he said. "Dahlia."
He let the name hang there a moment before continuing, smooth as silk over glass.
"In return,I offer you a promise." He stepped forward—not threatening, but inevitable, as if the sand itself welcomed his footfalls. "Torchline will remain untouched. No harm will come to your citizens. Not here, not on your islands, not beyond. No member of the Family will harm any who boast your citizenship." He stopped just shy of striking distance, the smile still on his lips.
"You needn’t like us. You needn’t believe in our cause. But I imagine you care about your people." Dorian’s voice, always soft, now edged on intimate. "And I imagine you understand how easily a tide can turn."
Only when Hadama spoke his name did Dorian incline his head, the gesture precise and oddly courtly. He looked utterly out of place in the tropics: dark coat tailored to the waist, hair immaculately swept back despite the heat, hands folded behind his back with the patience of a man who had already considered every outcome and chosen the one that suited him best. "Your reputation precedes you, Tidebreaker," he said, voice calm and cool, untouched by the humidity. "A leader who protects his people. Steady. Deliberate. Not prone to theatrics."
His gaze drifted toward the sea beyond them, then back, sharp and clear as a scalpel.
"Which is why I’ve come to speak with you directly." He smiled—pleasant, even genuine, as though this were a diplomatic visit rather than an act of fury masked in diplomacy. "Your region is in possession of something I would very much like returned," he said. "Dahlia."
He let the name hang there a moment before continuing, smooth as silk over glass.
"In return,I offer you a promise." He stepped forward—not threatening, but inevitable, as if the sand itself welcomed his footfalls. "Torchline will remain untouched. No harm will come to your citizens. Not here, not on your islands, not beyond. No member of the Family will harm any who boast your citizenship." He stopped just shy of striking distance, the smile still on his lips.
"You needn’t like us. You needn’t believe in our cause. But I imagine you care about your people." Dorian’s voice, always soft, now edged on intimate. "And I imagine you understand how easily a tide can turn."
He'll rekindle all the dreams
it took you a lifetime to destroy
it took you a lifetime to destroy
