Serena shoved the door closed with her foot and let her backpack slip from her shoulder, landing in the entryway with a heavy thud. Keys clattered onto the kitchen counter before she dropped onto the barstool, elbows braced against the island. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to tame the ache that had been building ever since the sea lion incident.

The headaches always came like this, looming, relentless. They had haunted her since that day long ago, when she’d fallen overboard into the pod of orcas.

Her memory of the moment was fractured. Pieces missing, blurred edges she could never quite grasp. But one thing remained sharp, forever etched into her soul: the eyes of the pod’s leader. Dark, mesmerizing, impossibly knowing. Time had slowed, the world had hushed, and in the stillness she had heard it, no sound, no human voice, but a whisper that rippled through her mind.

Don’t be afraid, Namaka.

The words had never left her, and from that moment, the headaches began.

They struck when the memory surfaced, when nightmares dragged her back into the depths, or whenever she stood too near water. The pain rolled through her skull in shockwaves, impossible to soothe. She had learned to manage it only by forcing the memories behind a locked mental door. Keep it shut, and she could function. But encounters like the one with Nibblet ripped the door wide open, flooding her with agony she could hardly withstand.

It made her quiet, distant. It had cost her friendships, even love. No one could understand, and how could she ever explain?

Her mother was the only one who knew, at least, part of it. Serena had once confessed the truth of the headaches. Her mother had dismissed it as some severe allergic reaction to water. Stay away from it, she had warned. If you want to live a normal life, stay away. And if you dare to tell anyone, they’ll lock you in a nuthouse.

And for years, Serena had obeyed. As long as she avoided water, the pain dulled, sometimes even disappeared. But the truth? She could never stay away.

The ocean called to her. It was more than longing, it was a pull, primal and unshakable. It was why she had come here, why she had left everything behind to return to Hawaii, to live wrapped in the scent of salt and the rhythm of waves.

Yes, it brought her agony. But it also gave her peace. A belonging she had never felt anywhere else. This was home, and even if it meant enduring the pain, she would choose it every time.

Serena rose slowly, pushing off the counter and padding across the room. She slid the patio door open and stepped into the night. The breeze was warm, laced with salt and hibiscus, and the crash of the surf echoed like a heartbeat against the shore.

She wrapped her arms around herself, the lei from Ailani still faintly fragrant around her neck. Out there in the darkness, the waves shimmered silver beneath the moonlight, endless, eternal.

Her headache pulsed again, sharp and merciless, but she tilted her face to the sea anyway, breathing it in.

The pain was real. So was the peace.

And no matter what her mother had warned, no matter what sense dictated, she knew she would never be able to turn away from the ocean.

Not now. Not ever.