What?
Coral turned her head about, her ginger hair floating around her like seaweed.
She blinked rapidly. This couldn't be real.
She was breathing. Underwater.
Actually breathing.
Her crystal-blue eyes darted to her ankle. Her leash was gone — torn off in the chaos of the horrible current.
The sharp taste of salt clung to her tongue and nose but despite it all, she could breathe.
Somehow, the oxygen in the saltwater flowed into her arms while she exhaled carbon dioxide in the water without choking.
Her head burst through the surface. She was coughing and sputtering out water from her mouth as her eyes scanned the shore.
There, strutting up the beach was Doris Triche strolling up on the beach, wet surfboard in hand and grin stretched wide. She waved at the cheering crowd like royalty
Coral scowled.
That should've been me.
Pouting, she began swimming towards the shore — completely forgetting her surfboard.
As she emerged from the surf, her parents rushed towards her, their faces tight with worry.
"Coral, are you alright?" Mrs. Ocean asked, brushing wet strands from her daughter's face.
Coral nodded quickly, blinking away the sting in her eyes.
"It's okay–it's gonna be okay," her mom whispered, pulling her into a warm hug.
Mr. Ocean's eyes narrowed. "Where's your board, Coral?"
"Out there, Dad," Coral mumbled.
Mrs. Ocean exchanged a troubled glance with her husband.
But then a smile broke out on his face.
"I'll get it. Don't worry."
Back in the booth, Shell sighed. "And Doris Triche goes on to the semi-finals…"
"At least Coral Ocean's Okay. She gave us quite a scare," Dorian added, flashing a camera-ready smile.
Led away by her parents, Coral clenched her fists.
"I was going to win," she muttered, "but I slipped off my board. I don't know why it was so…slimy but—"
"What?" Mr. Ocean asked sharply, stopping in his tracks.
"Oh yeah…I left to go to the bathroom. When I came back, there was some weird guy standing by my board," she said, wrinkling her nose.
Mr. Ocean's expression darkened, his heart rate increasing slightly. "What did I tell you, Coral?"
She dropped her head, her gaze sinking to her sandy toes.
"I know…never leave your board alone," Coral mumbled.
He jabbed a finger at her. "Let this be a lesson, Coral. Your loss is your fault."
Coral's head snapped up, her eyes stinging.
"But Doris sabotaged me!" She protested..
"She may have," Mrs. Ocean said gently, placing a hand on Coral's shoulder. "Or she may not have. But your father gave you that rule for a reason — to prevent things like this from happening."
Coral groaned and turned away, her fists tightening her sides.
As much as she hated to admit it….
They were right.
They always were.
Coral's parents continued forward, immediately swarmed by reporters. Cameras flashed. Questions flew. Before anyone could get a word out, Mr. Ocean raised his hand, his face expressing annoyance.
The crowd fell silent.
Back home, the soft jingle of the small bell above the door as Coral trudged in behind them.
Her bounce in her step was gone, her bright eyes dim.
Without a word, her parents led her upstairs. Mr. Ocean opened the foot to their apartment, revealing a modest living room.
A marlin hung proudly on the cream wall, its mouth frozen in a permanent roar. The couch— navy blue with white spots—faced a red carpet. An armchair with neat blue-cushions sat nearby, and in the center stood a coffee table shaped like pink coral.
Coral slumped into the armchair as Mrs. Ocean draped a warm towel over her shoulders..
"You want coffee?" her mother offered gently.
Coral shook her head without looking up.
"Go and change," Mr. Ocean advised, his brow tight with concern. "I'll find your board."
She gave a curt nod, her eyes still fixed on the coral-shaped table. Her parents exited quietly, the door clicking behind them shut.
Coral stood and shuffled towards her room, pushing the door open with a soft squeak.
The walls were painted a bold, cheerful pink. To her left sat a light brown desk, cluttered with homework and opened novels. On her right, next to her bed, her bathroom door stood slightly ajar. Her bed, draped in teal sheets and yellow pillows, looked especially inviting.
On her left nightstand, a jellyfish lamp decorated the table. The right nightstand held a strange pink vase, the neck consisting of various tentacles. It was etched with swirling golden symbols she'd noticed but never knew what it meant.
When she asked, her parents never told her.
She stopped in her tracks and turned to the polished cream closet that stood next the front door of her room.
None of it seemed comforting right now.
Coral decided to take a long shower and change into something more comfortable.
The warm water soothed her aching muscles, washing away the sand, sham and salt clinging to her skin. Afterward, she slipped into her favorite green striped flannel pajamas, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers tightly around her. Within moments, sleep took her.
She opened her eyes.
Her cheeks puffed as she instinctively held her breath. Her eyes darted in all directions, panic flaring in her chest—until the memory returned.
Oh yeah. I can breathe down here.
Exhaling slowly, Coral pushed upwards, aiming for the surface. But just before she could breached, a violent explosion shook the ocean. Tremors rippled through her body as she turned, wide-eyed, toward a monstrous undersea volcano now spewing smoke and lava into the water.
No. Not again.
The water around her began to heat up. Her heart raced. She kicked upward, desperate to escape.
She broke through the surface with a gasp, waves slapping against her face. Her damp hair was limp, some strains clung to her cheeks. The sky overhead was black and cloudy, smothering any sense of light. The air was thick and heavy, with despair and death. As if the world was holding her breath.
She turned towards a distant island. Distorted scream rang through the darkness. Waves continually batter against her as she tried to stay afloat. Salty waterfilled her mouth and ears. She coughed, sputtered.
The island—it's sinking.
No. It was sinking.
Panic clawed at her chest. She turned and swam—away, anywhere, it didn't matter. She had to move.
Another deep rumble thundered beneath her. She ignored it, pressing on.
The current became stronger, impossible for her to move forward.
She glanced back—and froze.
A towering wave, larger than anything she'd ever seen, was crashing towards her.
She swam harder but it was no use.
The wave swallowed her whole.
Coral shot up in bed, with a scream, arms flailing wildly.
The door burst open. Mrs. Ocean rushed in, her face painted in concern.
"Coral?" She gasped.
Coral turned, eyes wide and filled with fear. Without a word, her mother rushed to her side and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Coral clung to her, shaking.
'It was that dream again, wasn't it?" Mrs. Ocean whispered gently, pulling back just enough to see her daughter's face.
Coral nodded, her lower lip trembling.
Mrs. Ocean shifted on the bed, gently holding her daughter's hand. She switched on the jellyfish lamp beside them, neon pink flooding the room with a soft, calming glow.
"I was...I saw the island again," Coral sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve of her pajama top.
Mrs. Ocean nodded, her expression tender.
"And it was sinking again," Coral added quietly. "I haven't had the dream in a while. Why is it back?"
"Maybe today's event has taken its toil on you, honey," Mrs. Ocean said gently.
"Maybe," Coral murmured, her voice small.
Mrs. Ocean gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "How about this? I'll sing you to sleep."
Coral's eyes lit up. She nodded eagerly and nestled deeper under the covers.
Mrs. Ocean leaned in and wrapped an arm around her, her fingers gently combing through Coral's damp ginger curls.
She began to sing in a soft, otherworldly cadence.
"◯↬∣↬◯∣⌣◯↶◯↬◯◯,c↬∣↬◯↬↬◯↬.◯↶↬◯↬↬◯↬S′∽∽↬◯—↶◯⊙⇝↬.◯↶∣↬◯∽∽⌣c∽∽↬◯↬.↬◯↬∧↬◯↬◯↬◯◃$ ∣⊙◯↬c⊙◯◃↶."
(Nalam Luminaryn, Selana ana. Riana ana Shanti Noya. Rilan Hushana. Ana Karana Melora Somni.)
Moments later, Coral's steady breath was joined by a soft snore. Mrs. Ocean smiled down at her sleeping daughter, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and kissed her forehead.
Slipping off the bed, she turned off the lamp and quietly exited the room. As she descended the steps into the store, she looked up just in time to see her husband returning through the door, Coral's surfboard in hand.
"I got it," he whispered with a proud grin.
She gave him a quick once-over, then narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Did anyone see you?" She asked in a hush tone.
His grin faltered. He shook his head.
"I made sure no-one saw when I drank the potion. No one witnessed my transformation," Mr. Ocean assured her as he leaned the board gently against the wall—just an inch farther from the delicate glass ocean collection.
Mrs. Ocean let out a breath of relief and smiled. "That's good. If anyone found out...if Delia did—"
Mr. Ocean wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Delia will never know," he said firmly. "We made a promise to protect Coral. And that is what we'll do."
The couple embraced each other and exchanged a soft kiss.
"Come, Delmar," Mrs. Ocean whispered. "Let's get some rest. It's been a long day."
He nodded, together they disappeared up the staircase.
The store fell quiet. The lights clicked off—one by one
And on the store counter, the seashells began to glow with an eerie, pulsing light.