The moonlight bled silver across the shoreline, fractured by the restless waves. Acropolis sprawled across the damp sands, half submerged where the ocean licked greedily at his flanks. His long, tail flicked idly, carving ragged furrows in the shore as if marking territory. His bioluminescent chest pulsed faintly beneath the salt-stained scales, a quiet rhythm in time with the tide. Golden, SandWing claws twitched in the sand like restless scorpions, ready to dig or strike.

His eyes, slitted and sharp, stared out beyond the breakers—unblinking, patient, like a predator deciding whether to sleep or hunt. The night air smelled of salt and carrion, the kind of scent that made his mouth twitch in something close to a grin. Feral hunger curled beneath his ribs, but tonight he only watched, the way a storm waits before it breaks.

Tiny crustaceans scuttled near his claws, unaware of how close they danced to death. Acropolis let them be, tasting the wind instead—savoring the heavy breath of the sea and the dry heat that still clung to his side. The stars above were sharp and cold, mirroring the glint of his teeth when he stretched, ribs heaving as he exhaled a low growl into the stillness.

He belonged here, where the desert bled into ocean, where no tribe’s laws mattered and instincts could reign. Feral, free, and electric with the pulse of two worlds colliding beneath his scales.

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