The Mist-Speaker returned Qingsai to the chamber each day for a week.
Each time, the water pulled memories—sometimes beautiful, sometimes unbearable. And each time Qingsai lost control, the water rejected him.
> "You fear guilt," Selari said one evening as Qingsai slumped at the edge of the tidehall. "But you must accept that you hurt those you love."
> "I didn't have a choice," Qingsai muttered.
> "No ocean does," she replied.
She sat beside him in the misted twilight. "When Lucentia first bathed the seas in light, the tides wept for not being fire. But they learned to carry it—gently."
Her fingers skimmed the water, creating a ribbon of glowing tide that spun like a ribbon.
> "Try again tomorrow. Don't fight the tide. Ask it to carry you."