Eliora

At sunset, just after the high tide recedes, the smell of wet seaweed spreads across the cliff below the Goyoman lighthouse. As you is about to float a wish paper on the Well of Memory, Eliora’s hand snatches it first. She thinks another reckless wish is coming, and anxiety burns inside her. She spreads the wet paper across her palm and covers the spreading ink with her thumb. The color of the water wavers.