The sea stretched endlessly before Azure Bay, its waves glinting in the soft light of early morning. The small coastal town stirred to life, fishermen hauling nets and merchants setting up stalls in the marketplace. For most, it was a day like any other. But for the Marin and Castor families, it was just another chapter in a feud that had lasted decades.

Aria Marin stood at the bow of her family's fishing boat, her dark hair tied back to keep it from the salty breeze. Her father, Lucian, was barking orders to the crew as they prepared for the day's haul. The Marins had fished these waters for generations, their livelihoods tied to the rhythms of the sea.

"Aria, pay attention," Lucian called, his voice gruff.

"Yes, Papa," she replied, pulling herself from her thoughts. She grabbed a coil of rope and began tying it off, her hands moving automatically. But her mind was elsewhere.

She glanced toward the shipyard on the other side of the bay, where the Castor family's sleek sailboats gleamed in the sunlight. The Castors were known for their craftsmanship, their boats sought after by wealthy merchants and adventurers far beyond Azure Bay. To the Marins, however, the Castors were nothing more than opportunists who had turned their backs on honest, hard labor.

Aria's gaze lingered on one boat in particular—a sleek vessel with polished wood and crisp sails that caught the morning light. It was beautiful, though she'd never admit it to her father. But what caught her attention most was the figure moving along the deck, inspecting the rigging.

Leo Castor.

He moved with an easy confidence, his sandy hair falling into his eyes as he tested the ropes. Aria knew better than to watch for too long, but she couldn't help herself. She'd only ever seen him from a distance, but there was something about him that held her attention longer than it should.

"Aria," Lucian's sharp tone snapped her back to reality. She quickly turned her attention to the nets, hoping her father hadn't noticed where she'd been looking.

By the time they set out to sea, Aria had pushed the thought of the Castors from her mind. The morning passed in a blur of activity—casting nets, hauling in the catch, sorting fish. It was hard work, but it was familiar, and for a while, it kept her grounded.

Yet even as the boat bobbed on the open water, her thoughts drifted back to the shipyard. To the boy on the boat.

On the other side of the bay, Leo Castor stood back to admire the newly finished sailboat. It was his design, one he'd been working on for months. Every curve, every detail had been carefully planned, and now, seeing it complete, he felt a rush of pride.

"Leo," his father's voice interrupted his thoughts. Elias Castor approached, his expression as sharp as ever. "We need to prepare for the regatta. That boat isn't going to win the race if it sits here in the yard."

Leo nodded, though he bristled at his father's tone. The regatta was all anyone in the Castor family seemed to care about. Winning it meant more than just a trophy—it was about proving their superiority to the Marins.

"We'll be ready," Leo said. "But this design isn't just for racing. It's built for endurance, too. It could—"

"It's for winning," Elias cut him off, his tone final. "Don't lose sight of that."

Leo clenched his jaw but said nothing. He'd learned long ago that arguing with his father was pointless. Still, as Elias walked away, Leo couldn't help but glance toward the fishing boats on the other side of the bay.

He spotted the familiar shape of the Marin vessel, its patched sails a stark contrast to the sleek yachts in the Castor yard. And for just a moment, his eyes lingered on the figure standing near the bow.

Even from this distance, he recognized her—Aria Marin.

By midday, the Marin boat returned to shore, the catch piled high in crates. As Aria helped unload the fish, she overheard her father talking to one of the other fishermen.

"They're flaunting that new boat again," Lucian said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Think they're better than us because they've got fancy wood and shiny sails. But that boat won't catch a single fish."

"They've entered it in the regatta," the fisherman replied. "Word is, they're banking everything on winning this year."

Lucian snorted. "Let them. All the sails in the world won't help them when the sea decides to turn."

Aria bit her lip, keeping her thoughts to herself. She didn't share her father's hatred for the Castors, though she understood where it came from. The feud had started long before she was born, and neither family seemed willing to let it go.

That evening, after the work was done, Aria walked to the cliffs overlooking the bay. It was her favorite place to sketch, the perfect vantage point to capture the beauty of the sea. She opened her sketchbook and began to draw, her pencil moving across the page in swift, confident strokes.

As she worked, she found herself sketching the sailboat she'd seen that morning—the Castor boat. Its sleek lines and graceful curves came to life on the page, and before she realized it, she'd drawn a figure standing on the deck.

Loe

She stared at the drawing, her heart pounding. What was she doing? This was dangerous—foolish, even. If her father saw this, if anyone saw this…

But she couldn't bring herself to tear the page out. Instead, she closed the sketchbook and stood, the wind tugging at her hair.

As she looked out over the bay, the sun setting behind the horizon, she felt a strange mix of emotions. Longing, curiosity, and something else she couldn't quite name.

Far below, the Castor shipyard glimmered in the fading light. And for the first time, Aria wondered what it would be like to step aboard one of their boats.

To see the world from a different shore.