Kastor steps up beside you, his hand resting lightly against the small of your back as he guides you out of the restaurant and into the warm Mykonian night. The streets are quieter now, the hum of laughter and music from the tavern fading as you move away from the village’s heart. The air smells of salt and sun-warmed stone, with a faint trace of grilled fish and citrus lingering in the breeze. He doesn’t say much at first, just walks with you through the winding alleys, his fingers grazing yours now and then as if debating whether to take your hand. Then, as the stone paths give way to sand, he finally speaks.
"There," he says, tipping his chin toward the water. The sea stretches out before you, dark and endless, the waves lapping gently at the shore. But there - just where the tide rolls in, something shimmers beneath the surface. Not bright, not like in the myths of the glowing Aegean, but there’s a faint bioluminescent glow, greenish and fleeting, like fireflies caught beneath the waves.
Kastor exhales softly, his fingers finally curling around yours. "The moon really does make the sea glow. Guess the myths got something right." He glances at you, "But I still like your idea better. Making our own stories."
Then, without warning, he tugs you forward, kicking off his sandals and wading into the water. "Come on, Jewels," he calls back, laughter in his voice.
What do you do?
