An ancient stone gate stands half‑buried in the mountains at the edge of a moonlit shoreline. The sea washes gently over the sand, reflecting the stars and the towering cliffs. Stacy stands knee‑deep in the water directly before the open gate, her white dress floating around her legs in soft, drifting currents. Moonlight catches the fabric and turns it silver at the edges. Her stance is firm and unmovable, shoulders squared, chin lifted, eyes steady on the glowing passage beyond. The waves break against her without shifting her balance. She looks fearless, powerful, and completely in command of the moment — as if nothing in this world or the next could push her back from the threshold she has chosen to face
