Avó Beatriz has passed. She left you her house, the one by the sea.

That night, Elena slept in her grandmother’s bed. And for the first time in thirty years, she did not dream of leaving. She dreamed of roots growing deep into the earth, of stones turning into trees, of a long journey finally ending where it began. Fim.

And then, one spring morning, a letter arrived. It was from a lawyer in Nazaré.

“This is a piece of our land,” the old woman said. “The journey will be long, menina. But you are not a leaf in the wind. You are the seed.”