Frieren stood up gently from the sand, and as she turned to Kraftsman INC, the yellow lights began shutting down gradually.
The only light left was a soft amber glow reflecting from the moon.
Frieren stepped across the island, the soft sound of the tides covering the small shore.
She stared at the workers leaving—some tired, some stretching, some dragging their feet like their bones were tired.
A man wrapped his arm around a woman's shoulder as they left together.
"Ahh, what a day…" a faint voice drifted from the building, barely reaching her.
She watched them leave one by one until the island emptied,
loneliness pressed quietly against her ribs.
She let her eyes linger on the darkened building, hoping for one more voice, one more shadow, anything.
She found a seashell; it glowed faintly, something half-alive with magic.
But what held her attention even more was the distant, pulsing beacon.
The beam cut through the darkness with patient, steady sweeps.
How curious… she thought as she watched the light sweep in a slow circular motion.
The island belonged only to her breath and the waves.
She kept staring at the beacon, then let her body rest on the sand.
She threw herself softly onto it, as if it were a bed.
Not bad… this place feels gentle she thought as she stared at the stars.
She felt the sand a little coarse against her back.
Then she pressed her hand into it, her fingers flooding with mana.
She extended her hand, and a ripple of cerulean light washed over the ground. Where there had been abrasive, countless grains, a transformation began. The sand didn't just move; it almost breathed. It lost its gritty resistance, each particle expanding as if infused with air, rising in a gentle, soundless sigh. The surface lightened from a dull tan to the pale, creamy color of vanilla.
She let out a faint, relieved smile as she rested on it.
The night air cooled around her, brushing her cheeks with a quiet tenderness.
"What makes you so proud, tossing your magic around like that?"
"I don't care if you're a magical creature or not…"
But her eyes snapped open when—
She opened her eyes slightly as two familiar phrases came to mind.
The girl's small voice almost echoed in her head.
Frieren turned on her side and stared at her faintly glowing tip of her finger
"Magic, huh…" she whispered.
She kept focusing on her finger until her eyes began to dim.
Her breaths slowed, settling into a tired rhythm against the enchanted sand.
The waves whispered in the distance, rising and fading like a lullaby.
Just before sleep claimed her
something caught her attention—
a lone figure standing still as the tides wrestled before him, hands clasped behind his back.