The village noticed.
Not immediately—but villages are like cats. They pretend not to care, then stare very intensely when something changes.
It started small.
Pa bought new fishing nets. Better ones. The kind that didn't tear when something large and opinionated swam through them.
Ma replaced the cracked cooking pot that had "character" (and a leak). Then she replaced the chair that wobbled unless you leaned slightly left and believed in it.
No one said anything.
But people noticed.
Euryale noticed too—which was why he nearly choked on his bread when Old Tessa leaned over the fence one morning and said, far too casually, "You folks come into money?"
Ma smiled sweetly. Dangerously."We came into good budgeting."
Old Tessa squinted. "Mm. Budgeting usually doesn't sparkle."
Euryale kicked Silas under the table.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
"You're humming," Euryale hissed.
Silas blinked. "So?"
"You only hum when you're excited or lying."
"I'm always excited."
"That's the problem."
They'd hidden the treasure well—beneath the house, sealed in a stone-lined pit Pa had reinforced with old sailor's wards and very practical paranoia. Only a little was ever brought out at a time. Always quietly. Always carefully.
Still.
Gold had a presence.
And apparently, so did Euryale.
That afternoon, while Euryale practiced by the shore—trying (and failing) to lift a ribbon of water without soaking his own trousers—he felt it again.
That strange… awareness.
Like being watched.
He glanced up.
Nothing.
Just seabirds. Waves. Sky.
"…I'm imagining it," he muttered.
The water promptly splashed him in the face.
"Rude," he told it.
Behind a distant dune, Kaelen lowered his notebook slightly.
White Core resonance stable.Subject exhibits awareness without paranoia.Also argues with water.
He paused, then added:
Water responds positively to conversational tone. Concerning.
Back in the village, Silas had a problem.
Specifically: Silas had told one person.
Just one.
"It doesn't count as telling if it was an accident," he insisted later.
Lyra stared at him. "You whispered it like it was a secret prophecy."
"I tripped!"
The result?
By sunset, three children were loitering suspiciously near their fence.
"Hey," one said. "Is it true your family's cursed?"
Silas beamed. "VERY."
Lyra elbowed him. "No we're not!"
The kid leaned closer. "My cousin says you found pirate gold."
Euryale appeared behind them like a disappointed tide.
"No," he said calmly.
There was a long pause.
They ran.
That night, the family gathered again around the hearth. The treasure stayed hidden. The conversation did not.
"We need rules," Ma said firmly.
Pa nodded. "Clear ones."
Silas raised a hand. "Rule one: no snitching."
"Rule one," Ma corrected, "is that none of you go treasure hunting alone again."
Lyra raised her hand. "What if we're together?"
"No."
"What if we bring snacks?"
"No."
Euryale rubbed his temples. "I'll train more. If this treasure is tied to the sea, I need to understand it before it understands me."
Pa studied him quietly. "You're thirteen."
"I know."
"You don't have to carry everything."
Euryale looked at the fire. "I want to. Just… not alone."
Ma softened. She reached over and squeezed his hand kiss his cheek. "Then we do it together. Slowly. Carefully."
Silas grinned. "And with snacks?"
Ma sighed. "…With snacks."
Outside, the tide rolled in again—steady, patient, amused.
Far away, Kaelen closed his notebook.
Observation ongoing. Family unit stable. Subject exhibits restraint. Village suspicion rising.
He hesitated, then added one last line:
Prediction: trouble inevitable.
Recommendation: snack.