After the storm passed, the sea seemed almost ashamed of itself.
The waves smoothed into long, gentle swells, the kind that rocked the Tide's Promise like a mother's hand rocks a cradle. The air was fresh again, rinsed clean, the salt sharp but sweet in my lungs. The gulls had returned too, wheeling lazy arcs above the mast as if nothing had happened.
For the first time in days, the deck was quiet. Not the silence of fear, but of exhaustion—the kind that comes when every muscle has been tested and somehow survived. Mira sat on the rail, her hair still damp, her eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them. The minnow darted in circles just above her shoulder, a flicker of silver, fast and restless. Mine swam in the air too, slower, steadier, as if taking its time to learn me. Every so often it shimmered and vanished, only to reappear near my ear, humming like a faint note of music.
Darin leaned against a barrel, scowling at the sight of them. "All this fuss over fish," he muttered. "If I'm going to get one of these spirit-things, I'd rather it be a shark."
"Careful what you wish for," Lyra said. She crouched beside Bounty, running a whetstone along her blade. The mule, unbothered by the sea's motion, munched on a bundle of dried reeds someone had left for him. "Better to learn to use what you're given than to dream about what you're not ready for."
Mira smirked, stroking the air just behind the minnow's tail. "Says the one with a walking pantry for a soulkin."
"Bounty carries what I cannot," Lyra replied without looking up. "He saves lives every time he lightens a burden. Don't mock what you don't understand."
Callen stood at the prow, arms crossed, his usual scowl aimed at the horizon. His voice was flat, but there was a tightness to it I didn't miss. "Then let's hope your little fish can do more than glitter when it counts."
I might've snapped at him, but before I could, Captain Sera barked from the stern. "Eyes forward, all of you. You'll want to see this."
We turned as one.
The morning mist was lifting, burning away under the sun's rise. And there—just at the edge of the pale horizon—was land. At first, only the faint green of treetops showed above the water's line. Then, as the Tide's Promise crept closer, the shapes sharpened: cliffs of black stone, pale beaches, forests spilling down to the shore in swathes of emerald. Thin columns of smoke rose in the distance, not the smoke of ruin but of cooking fires, homely and constant.
And farther still—sails. Bright sails, dyed crimson and blue and green, fluttering from long, narrow boats that skimmed across the waves like hunting birds. People stood on the decks, but others swam alongside, keeping pace with the vessels with strokes smooth as seals. Dolphins leapt between them, close enough that it was hard to tell where man ended and beast began.
Mira gasped. "They're… swimming with them."
"Not swimming," Lyra murmured. "Moving as one."
Closer still, the villages came into focus. Not the stone houses of Wraithborn, nor the timber of the mountain clans I'd heard about, but structures of coral and driftwood built on stilts. Whole neighborhoods perched above the shallows, ladders dipping into the surf. Nets hung to dry between poles, glittering with silver scales. Children jumped laughing from platforms into the clear lagoon, resurfacing with shells clutched to their chests. Every inch of the place seemed alive.
"It's like something out of a dream," Mira whispered.
"Or a trap," Callen said darkly.
I ignored him. My chest had gone tight, but not with fear. With something else. Wonder, maybe. Longing. The feeling that the sea had not rejected us after all—that we were being invited.
The closer we came, the more details revealed themselves. Faces turned toward us, curious but not unfriendly. Women with hair bound in coils of seaweed, skin darkened by sun and salt, waved from the docks. Men with tattoos curling like waves across their arms hauled in nets so heavy with fish they strained the beams they rested on. Children clambered onto the backs of dolphins, shrieking with joy.
"This is…" Darin shook his head. "I don't even have words."
Sera's expression softened for the first time since we'd left Wraithborn. "This is the Shardsea Isles," she said, her voice rough with something like pride. "Few ever see them unless they're meant to."
The ship glided into the shallows. Islanders pushed long poles into the water to guide us in, steady as shepherds guiding a flock. Our hull kissed the dock with barely a bump.
Waiting there was a line of men and women, their clothes dyed in bright patterns, necklaces of shell and bone at their throats. At their head stood a tall man with shoulders like a mast, his hair bound back with a cord of braided kelp. A carved spear rested in his hand, its tip made of gleaming coral.
He raised it high. The crowd fell silent.
"You come from the land across the sea," he said, his voice carrying as if the water itself lent him strength. "Few cross without reason. What is yours?"
Lyra stepped forward before I could. She bowed her head slightly, just enough to acknowledge his authority. "We come in peace. To learn."
The man's gaze shifted to me. His eyes were dark as the deep, unreadable. "And you? Do you speak for them?"
The minnow darted above my shoulder, its light flashing in the morning sun. The crowd stirred. I swallowed. "I don't speak for them," I said carefully. "Only for myself. I came because the sea called me. And because I need to understand it—or drown trying."
A murmur rippled through the gathered islanders. The tall man's lips twitched, the smallest hint of approval. "Then perhaps you are meant to be here." He lowered the spear. "I am Kaelen, Speaker of the Tides. You and your companions are welcome… for now."
He gestured, and two youths came forward carrying baskets of fruit and fish. Another carried a jug of water clear as glass. The crowd began to break into smiles, the tension easing. Children pointed at Mira's minnow with awe. One boy clapped when mine shimmered into sight.
Kaelen raised his spear again, quieter this time. "You will eat with us. Rest. But know this—the sea is no paradise. It gives, and it takes. You will learn which, soon enough."
Lyra inclined her head again. "We understand."
As we stepped onto the docks, Bounty following without hesitation, Mira whispered to me, "They don't look wary of us at all."
"No," I murmured back. "Not yet."