Captain Raalessar arrived with the first full light of dawn, riding a trimaran-style escort cruiser that sliced through the outer lanes as smooth as a moonfish. The hull, three tapering spines of dark shellbone, shimmered faint jade where hidden glyph conduits pulsed beneath. Watchers stationed along the barrier stopped what they were doing to stare. Even the demi-god's water wall, far in the distance, caught and held the glow.
I waited at the top of the greeting arch, my pearl tight in my chest. Yera, Elder Fin, and two honor guards swam forward to meet the visitor. Raalessar emerged from the hatch unhurried, letting the escort's currents settle around him before moving. Veins traced bright green across his torso, the light showing through charcoal armor. Class Two, easily. The water seemed to grow denser around him, not crushing, only heavy, as if he carried his own tide.
"Watcher Kaelen," Yera called, motioning me closer. "The captain asked to meet our reef's newest guide."
I steadied the nervous tremor in my pearl, kicked forward, and offered the traditional wrist touch. His grip was warm, almost humming, firm without trying to dominate.
"I heard you shaped tides under a guardian's watch," he said. His voice rolled low, confident, but not unkind.
"I still have more to learn," I admitted.
"Show me your current," he said, holding a small lantern globe between us. "Size of a hatchling's eye. Hold it steady. No drift."
My pulse jumped. I coaxed a thin ribbon of water into a tight spiral and cupped it under the lantern. The glow fractured into rainbow shards as it spun, quivering at the edges. My veins warmed, steady but close to their limit.
Raalessar raised his hand and shaped a sphere of water so dense it bent the lantern's light into a single smooth halo. His veins shone brighter, and the sphere hovered without a ripple. He let it dissolve with a flick.
"Good foundation," he said. "Polish will come."
Inside the seal-rotunda, a bubble-chamber lined with transparent coral panes, Raalessar floated at the center. He projected glyphs from a wrist bracer, schematics spiraling into the water. Three hull rings rotated, covered in strange sigil stamps.
"Project Tide-Star," he said. "Hull alloy forged from invader plating, lined with your vent pearls to calm the core's resonance." Lights blinked across the model, showing where pearls would rest. "Trials will select helm weaver, shield synchronizer, and scout."
When the glyphs shifted to propulsion nodes, I saw mirrored patterns laced into the hull. Exile weave, hidden but there. Saar's people had found their place in our future.
Raalessar finished by closing his palm, and the schematics folded away. "Trials begin soon," he said simply.
The council hosted a formal meal under the tide hall dome. Coral dishes floated on tethers, trailing curls of spice and plankton wine. I sat between Echo-Hand and Veshra, while Talos took the opposite end, his eye on the salvaged invader claw on display.
Echo-Hand leaned close, whispering, "Mirrored weave takes to plating better than expected. Holds heat without fracture."
"That will help when we're beyond these waters," I said.
Talos heard but stayed silent, perhaps understanding more than pride allowed. Elder Fin caught his glance and smiled faintly, already imagining the weld patterns.
Dinner ended with sweet fire-kelp dusted in pearl powder. The taste lingered like victory, though my thoughts circled back to the captain's effortless spiral.
Corridors leading to the lagoon were dim and silent, lanterns low out of respect for the day's mourning. I drifted under an arch of kelp, letting cool currents flow over my gills. The pearl in my chest thrummed, half awe, half frustration. The gulf between my strength and his felt like an endless tide.
A faint vibration brushed through my bones. Strength grows first in calm water. The guardian's voice resonated inside my pearl, a reminder not to force what had to be guided.
The lagoon mist clung low when I arrived. The guardian crouched on his pillar, massive eyes reflecting gold. He didn't speak with words, only raised a hand. Two columns of water tore open from the floor, spiraling upward, one cold, one warm.
Hold both, his voice pressed.
I stepped forward. Pressure closed around my chest, not brutal but unrelenting. The streams clashed, and pain flashed through my veins. I breathed slow, matching the vent pearls' rhythm, shaping small counter-turns around each current. They collided again, harder. My arms shook. This time I braided the currents down my arms, guiding the snarl into a single spiral that wrapped my waist. The pain eased, not because it lessened, but because I learned to bear it.
The guardian studied me, then let the streams fade. Better. Next tide you will hold two streams while shaping a third.
I bowed, gills burning but stable. "Captain Raalessar's power feels like heavy water, calm and controlled."
Thick water is mastered water, the guardian replied. Learn calm first. Strength second.
I sank onto the coral shelf, every muscle trembling. Far off, reef lanterns burned steady, waiting to welcome the captain's cruiser at dawn. My eyes closed, not in surrender but in gathering strength. I would wake, face the trials, and guide water until it flowed through me like jade glass.