Beneath the rising tides, remnants whisper not of what was, but of what may come. No words remain. Only textures of salt and sand, fragments of memory carved into the ocean floor. In this slow unraveling, the planet does not scream it remembers. Guided not by characters, but by elemental echoes, the story moves like water: circling loss, longing, and the fragile breath between collapse and awakening. Somewhere between myth and future, a question surfaces: if we vanish, what will remain and will anyone know we once sang to the sea?