Merrow’s End stood where the land surrendered to the sea. It was not marked clearly on most maps, and travelers rarely found it unless they meant to. A single narrow road led into the village, winding through windswept fields before ending abruptly at towering cliffs. Beyond them stretched an endless horizon of restless gray-blue water. The houses were small and sturdy, built of stone that had endured generations of storms. Fishing boats lined the harbor like patient animals waiting for dawn. Lina Vale had lived there her entire life, just as her mother had, and her mother before that. To many, the village seemed isolated. To Lina, it felt suspended—balanced between something ancient below and something unknown beyond the sea.

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