The moon's grip softens the shoreline, where shadows dance at the water's edge. It is here, under the skimming touch of night whispers, that the Tidal Figure breathes.
"Listen to the foam, it carries tales from the depths."
Within the undulating crest, there lie patterns as ancient as the stars, forming and fading under the incessant hymn of the waves. These moments are fleeting, yet they echo through time, drawing the eyes of wanderers seeking stories held in silken veils of spray.
"Trace the contours of sand, for they guard forgotten dreams."
By the shore stands a solitary figure, draped in kelp and salt, a sentinel against the tide's steady pulse. It turns with the currents, a phantom of brine and mystery, ever watching the horizon where sea meets sky in eternal embrace.