I noticed it because nothing was happening.
Hope sat near the rocks where the water thinned into glassy ripples, her tail resting quietly in the shallows. No glow. No movement. Just stillness so complete it felt intentional, even though I knew it wasn't.
She looked like she was thinking.
Not worrying.
Not listening.
Just… drifting.
The sea mirrored her.
Too smooth. Too flat. Like it was holding its breath.
I shifted my stance. "Isadora," I said under my breath.
She followed my line of sight, and her fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
Hope didn't move.
Then the water moved for her.
Not a wave.
Not a surge.
A shape rose from the surface—thin and curved, like a hand made of liquid. It didn't splash. It didn't rush. It reached.
It brushed Hope's wrist.
Hope gasped.
And the sea folded inward.
She was gone.
No splash. No pull. No sinking.
One second she was there—
The next, the space she occupied simply… forgot her.
Nova swore softly.
My pulse spiked. "Where did she go?"
The air felt wrong. Hollow. Like a sound had been cut off mid-note.
Then, across the hollow, water surged again.
Hope reappeared near the far rocks, stumbling as if she'd been dropped back into the world without warning. Her tail slapped the water hard as she caught herself on a stone, breath sharp and uneven.
"I—I didn't do that," she said quickly.
She looked down at her hands.
They were there.
But not entirely.
The edges of her fingers blurred, fading in and out like heat over sand. When she moved, the water followed a split second late, as if reality itself needed time to catch up.
"What just happened?" she whispered.
Isadora had gone pale.
"That," she said slowly, "was concealment."
Nova turned on her. "That's not a mermaid response."
"No," Isadora agreed. "It isn't."
Hope's eyes darted between them. "Concealment like… hiding?"
Isadora nodded. "But not the way you think."
I stepped closer. "Explain. Now."
Isadora exhaled. "Aurelith abilities don't work like merpeople spells. They don't require intention. They respond to inner states—quiet, overwhelm, reflection."
Hope frowned. "I was just thinking."
"Yes," Isadora said gently. "That's the trigger."
The sea shifted again, subtle but alert.
"Aureliths can become unseen," Isadora continued, choosing her words carefully. "Not invisible exactly. More like… unnoticed. The world looks away. Space rearranges itself so you aren't where attention rests."
Hope swallowed. "So I disappeared."
"Temporarily," Isadora said. "And reappeared where the sea judged safest."
Nova crossed her arms. "That's not all, is it?"
Isadora didn't deny it.
"There are three primary Aurelith traits," she said. "The ones that surface first."
Hope's glow flickered faintly under her skin, reacting to the explanation.
"Firstly," Isadora said, "Tide Memory."
Hope tilted her head. "What does that mean?"
"It means the sea remembers you," Isadora replied simply. "Places you've been. Emotions you've felt near water. Sometimes… things others have forgotten."
I stiffened slightly.
"And the second?" I asked.
"Command Without Control," Isadora said. "You don't order the sea. You don't dominate it. You align with it. When you're calm, it responds. When you're unhappy, it reacts."
Hope looked down at the water curling faintly around her tail. "So it's not listening to me."
"No," Isadora said. "It's agreeing with you."
That landed harder than it should have.
"And the third?" Nova asked.
Isadora hesitated.
"Dual Manifestation," she said. "It allows an Aurelith to exist across thresholds."
Hope blinked. "Thresholds?"
"Between places," Isadora explained. "Between seen and unseen. Between one point and another."
Hope's breath hitched. "So… that's why I moved."
"Yes," Isadora said. "You didn't travel. The space between you collapsed."
Silence fell.
Hope's hands slowly sharpened back into full visibility. She exhaled shakily, pressing her palms into the rock beneath her.
"I didn't want to go anywhere," she said quietly.
"I know," Isadora replied. "The sea chose for you. That will happen until you learn balance."
I turned to Isadora. "You didn't tell me this."
She met my eyes. "Because I didn't know how much she would inherit."
Nova looked sharply at her. "You didn't tell me either."
"I tried to leave it behind," Isadora said. "I thought it had ended with me."
Hope looked up. "Ended what?"
Before Isadora could answer, I spoke.
"It's okay," I said calmly. "Let it go. Just this time."
Everyone turned.
I looked at Isadora, then at Hope. "She doesn't need all of it right now."
Hope's glow dimmed, settling again beneath her skin.
The sea calmed.
But it didn't retreat.
It stayed close.
Watching her.
And I understood then—
Hope wasn't dangerous.
She was unfinished.
And the world was going to feel that before she ever meant it to.