The soreness was there the moment I stirred, a deep ache running along my gills and ribs. Every breath caught slightly, as if the water itself pressed heavier than usual. The veins along my arms glimmered faint blue, still raw from the strain of the last trial. I let the current carry me slowly toward the healer's chambers, my body grateful for every moment I didn't have to force movement.
Inside, the healers moved with practiced calm. Their hands glowed faintly with mana salves, the light seeping into bruised skin and tired muscles. One gestured for me to sit, her touch cool as she spread the balm across my shoulders and chest."Still intact?" she asked, eyes narrowing with a faint smile."Barely," I muttered.She hummed a low note that vibrated against the water. Approval, maybe.
Outside, Serith leaned against a coral pillar, his calm posture marred by the faint trembling in his arms. He gave me a nod, sharp and deliberate. Venn floated nearby, arms crossed, his grin softer than usual."Thought you'd crack before the flare ended," he said, voice roughened by exhaustion. "You almost did," I shot back, managing a small smirk. He laughed under his breath. "Fair."Serith only added, "Two tides. That's all we have." There was no fear in his voice, only focus.
The reef was shifting back to life. Artisans patched scarred coral, their brushes glowing as they painted new glyphs along the lanes. Fresh lines pulsed faintly, little beats of color like living veins. Nursery keepers guided younglings away from construction paths, their movements quick and protective. Even the Exiles worked openly, threading mirrored cloth into damaged spires. Some reefborn stared, wary, while others whispered quietly. No one stopped them. The lines between us had blurred too far to be unspun.
I passed the salvage yard and froze. The Tide-Star's skeleton curved high above, its frame arching like the ribs of something ready to wake. Vent pearls glowed in a steady pattern along its spine, and the hull hummed faintly with trapped energy. Watching it, I felt something stir in my chest, a pull stronger than fear. This ship would carry us into places we had only imagined.
When the mist rolled over the lagoon that night, I swam back to the guardian's pillar. He rose from the fog like a living shadow, his eyes catching the faint gold of the starlight. Without words, he raised one massive hand. Three streams spiraled upward, forming a shifting cage around me.Hold your shield. Shape the current.
The bubble formed around me, trembling blue. The streams battered against it from every direction. I tried to guide them, to force them into lines, but they collapsed into each other, slamming into my chest and throwing me backward. Pain lanced through my ribs.
"Again," I hissed under my breath, resetting the bubble. The streams rose sharper this time. I coaxed one to the side, let another slip along the curve of the shield, weaving the last between them. They bent reluctantly but held, swirling in rough patterns.
Strength is not what you take, the guardian's voice vibrated through the water, but what you allow to pass through you.
The streams dissolved, leaving calm in their place. My chest burned, but something had clicked into place. Not power, control. The guardian sank slowly back into the mist, his golden eyes lingering a moment before fading.
That night, the reef glowed. Lanterns swayed under the arches, their light soft and warm, carrying the memory of those who had been lost. The lanes shimmered in a mixture of colors, amber for warriors, jade for healers, pale blue for the fallen. I swam slowly under them, letting the lights brush over my scales like tiny stars.
Lis floated near a cluster of lanterns, tying a ribbon of bloom fronds to one. She looked at me with a faint smile, her eyes reflecting the glow."For the ones who didn't come back," she said quietly.I nodded. Words felt too heavy. We stayed together in the soft light, watching as the lanterns rose higher into the currents, carrying their silent song.
The council gathered under the tide hall dome. Glyph seals shimmered across the walls, cutting the chamber off from the city. I stayed outside, but the currents carried whispers."…he adapts quickly. Not just strength, but flow," Raalessar's voice was firm."He is not the strongest," Elder Fin replied."He doesn't need to be," Raalessar said. "The ship will need those who bend as much as those who push."Another voice hissed, sharp with distrust. "And the Exiles? You ask us to trust their weave on the hull?"Silence stretched.Finally, the artisan elder spoke. "Their cloth holds. The reef stands because of their work, too."The current shifted, and though the decision wasn't spoken, I could feel it moving toward resolution.
When I left the hall's shadow, the night was still. I swam to the salvage yard once more, to the rising frame of the Tide-Star. The ship was almost whole now, its spine lined with glowing pearls, its arcs fitted with mirrored layers that shimmered silver. I reached out and pressed my hand to the plating. The vibration thrummed through my arm, into my chest, into the core of my pearl. It felt alive.
A runner's voice carried faintly through the water. "The final trial is announced! Candidates will be called at dawn."
I kept my hand against the frame a moment longer, letting the hum sink into me. Two tides. That was all.