She doesn’t seem real, but neither does this moment, Jack thought, with a tremor in his hands. He was about to play Lorna’s ballad and draw forth the spirits of the sea. And it almost felt as if the ground beneath him quaked, just slightly, and as if the tide grew softer as its foam reached for his boots. As if the wind caressed his face, and even the reflection of the moon gleamed a little brighter in the rock pools.
