Dragoncrest Cliffs moonstone.

The rhythm of the sea against rock was a balm to Dacio's weary soul. He drank deep the sound of each wave as they reached out to Drageda's proud cliffs and, despite his internal struggle, he appeared entirely at peace as he gazed out over the endless water.

For the first time in weeks, his mind was quiet. While he wished for nothing more than the moment to last forever, the young Gona knew better than to cling to it. Everything good was temporary and the worst lingered. Life had taught Dacio this time and time again in his seven short months of existence, enough to make him feel that he harboured enough heartache to last a dozen lifetimes.

Inhale. All that he could do was recognise these quiet moments and appreciate them when they arrived. Exhale. The fleeting periods when he could simply be, when he could cast his woes to the wind and breathe again.

Beneath a full moon, the sea rippled in shades of midnight illuminated by ethereal blue. Clear skies offered views of another world: an endless navy littered with swirls of milky way, peppered generously with stars that glittered and twinkled in some faraway place. Dacio lifted his chin to admire the scene for a while before he closed his pastel eyes and think of gentler times.

"Dacio..."

A feathery voice, unmistakable, called to him from behind.

He sucked in a breath, unprepared for the sudden swell of emotion to surround his heart and tighten his throat. Brow furrowed, he kept his eyes firmly shut. For all his dreams of Portia, never once had she spoken. At times he was fearful of the awareness that she did not and recalled how fiercely he'd hope for her to acknowledge him in his past visions, despite not knowing how he'd respond.

"You are not real," the boy said out loud. "This is a dream."

He couldn't look at her, because he was scared to be hopeful. He was so afraid to hear her speak his name, and look over a shoulder to see the emptiness of a space where she should've been.