The moon draped its silver veil over the restless sea, transforming the waves into a realm of sparkling whispers. It was here, beneath the downpour of stars, that Lena listened to the ancient songs of the tide.
"Do you hear them?" she asked, her voice barely a ripple in the night air. The ocean responded not with words, but with the tender lapping of water against the shore. Each wave seemed to tell a story, echoing the secrets of time itself.
In the distance, a lighthouse flickered, its beam sweeping across the water like a guardian of forgotten dreams. Lena knew its light was a beacon, not just for ships, but for those wandering through the corridors of their own memories.
As the tide pulled back, it revealed the glimmering sand, strewn with relics of the past—shards of glass, shells, and pieces of painted driftwood. Each object held its own tale, a silent witness to the night's embrace.
Lena crouched down, fingers tracing the contours of a worn piece of bark etched with symbols she couldn't decipher. It felt familiar, as if the ocean had whispered her name through it.
The stories of the ocean and the songs of the tides were endless, each wave a new beginning, yet always an echo of the last. Lena stood, heart swelling with the rhythm of the sea, the night wrapping her in its iridescent glow.