Note: This chapter will uses Bo Sai Xi POV since Hai Shen Ling haven't grown up yet.
The sun rose slowly over Sea God Island, painting the sky in soft streaks of amber and gold. The mist that clung to the jungle canopy shimmered like silver veils drifting through heaven's breath. In the heart of the sacred island, where nature thrived untouched by time, a gentle breeze carried the scent of salt, lotus, and wet stone.
Bo Saixi knelt beneath the Moonbloom tree, where morning dew still clung to the violet petals that closed under the rising light. Dressed in flowing robes of ocean blue and white, embroidered with curling sea patterns, she was the very image of grace and age-old divinity. Her long silver-blue hair flowed down her back like a waterfall of moonlight, and her eyes—deep crimson, wise yet weary—softened as they turned to the small child before her.
Hai Shenling, now three years old, waddled awkwardly down the stone path toward her, arms spread wide as he balanced on unsure feet. His robes were slightly oversized, sleeves trailing as he moved, and his cheeks glowed with youthful warmth. His deep blue eyes—mirrors of the sea itself—lit up as he reached her side.
"Mama! Look!" he exclaimed, holding up a half-squished lotus petal. "Soft!"
Bo Saixi took it with a gentle laugh. "Yes, very soft. Just like your voice when you whisper in the mornings."
Shenling blinked. "My voice is like petals?"
She nodded. "Softer than petals."
He beamed.
"Now," she said, gesturing to the flower bed, "do you remember what this flower is called?"
He squinted, furrowing his little brows in thought. "Moo... Moon... Moon Boom?"
"Moonbloom," she corrected with a warm smile. "It closes when the moon goes to sleep."
"Why?" he asked, crawling to sit beside her.
"Because even flowers need rest," she said, brushing a petal. "Everything in this world listens to the sea and sky. Even you, my little one."
He tilted his head. "Even me?"
Bo Saixi gazed at him for a long moment. "Especially you."
She didn't say it aloud, but she could feel it every day. The sea responded to his presence—softening when he laughed, calming when he slept. He was no ordinary child. He was the current given form.
Two Years Earlier
The early days of motherhood were not divine.
They were clumsy, tear-filled, exhausting.
Bo Saixi, once the most exalted figure in the seas, had known nothing of babies—of feeding schedules, of diapers, of night terrors and fevers that left her helpless. She remembered the first time Shenling cried from hunger, how her hands shook as she tried to feed him, her calm voice cracking with panic when he refused to drink.
She remembered whispering prayers not to the Sea God, but to the child himself.
"Please… don't leave me too."
When he caught his first fever, she had held him for hours, pacing through the temple halls like a ghost, chanting half-forgotten lullabies into his hair. His tiny body had burned with heat, and in her mind, she had prepared to lose him a hundred times.
But he lived.
And when he smiled at her the next morning, toothless and radiant, something inside her broke—and healed all at once.
She remembered when he first said it.
"Ma...ma."
Just one word.
Her knees gave out, and she had clutched him close, crying into his robes like a woman starved of light.
In that moment, Bo Saixi had not been the High Priestess.
She had simply been a mother.
Back To Present Time
"Close your eyes," Bo Saixi said gently.
Shenling, now four, sat cross-legged before a bowl of clear water. He obeyed, scrunching his nose as he tried to focus.
"Feel the water. Not with your hands. With your heart."
He was silent for a moment. Then:
"It's singing again."
Bo Saixi's eyes widened slightly. "What does it sing?"
"It says I'm not alone."
She knelt behind him, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders. "Then answer it. Let it know who you are."
The water trembled.
A single droplet lifted from the surface—rising, spinning, glowing faintly with blue light—before collapsing again with a soft splash.
"I failed," Shenling muttered, cheeks puffed.
"No," she said, kissing his hair. "You spoke. And it listened."
He looked up at her. "Really?"
She smiled, brushing his cheek. "You are not like the others. The sea does not demand strength from you. It asks for trust."
He stared down at the bowl. "Then I'll trust it. Always."
The temple was silent but for the soft chirping of crickets and the lull of waves against distant cliffs.
Bo Saixi sat by Shenling's bedside, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Moonlight spilled through the open window, casting silver light across his peaceful face.
She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his brow.
"You dreamed again," she whispered. "You called out. Not in fear... but in longing."
Her voice trembled.
"I know the others question why I took you. Why I gave up my life for you. They say I should've let you drift into fate. But I couldn't. I saw your eyes, and I saw everything I had never dared to want."
She took his tiny hand in hers.
"I gave up reaching godhood. And I would do it a thousand times more."
Her lips pressed to his forehead, lingering.
"You are not my duty, Shenling. You are my heart."
And for just a moment, in his sleep, the boy smiled.
A pulse of light stirred in the air around him. The water in the bowl beside his bed rippled without wind.
Bo Saixi's breath caught.
"It's close," she whispered. "Your awakening… it's coming."
She looked to the heavens beyond the window.
"Let him be free. Let him live his own story. But if the world dares hurt him—I will bring the sea itself to drown it."
Later that night, she stood alone atop the Sea God Temple steps, eyes turned skyward. The air was heavy with power. The divine pool shimmered like glass, glowing faintly under the stars.
Bo Saixi knelt before the statue of the Sea God, her voice breaking in the hush of the night.
"Watch him, if you still watch anything. Bless him, if you still bless anything."
She lowered her head, tears falling onto the marble.
"I cannot protect him forever. But I will love him for as long as I exist. And if that love offends heaven... then strike me down."
The waves below stirred.
A whisper rode the wind.
He is almost ready.
And from the temple, a faint cry echoed—not of fear, but of calling.
"Mama…"
Bo Saixi rose, heart full, robes sweeping behind her as she descended.
"Coming, my child."