Ava
The morning broke in a quiet I could not trust. The sea outside my window was still, too still, as though it waited for something to wake beneath it. The light that touched Havenscove was weak, tinted gray, the color of ash that refused to die. I rose before dawn and stood at the window, pressing a hand to my chest. The mark beneath my skin pulsed faintly, a soft rhythm that was not entirely my own.
The smell of salt reached me even here, sharper than usual, metallic, wrong. I felt it before I saw it... the shift in the air, the pull of the Veil like a low hum behind my ribs. The sea had changed.
By the time I stepped outside, the townsfolk had already gathered at the cliffs. They stood in silence, their faces pale against the mist. Tata Sofia was among them, her shawl drawn tight, her expression carved from worry. She turned when she saw me, and the look in her eyes stole my breath.
"It began before sunrise," she said quietly. "The water turned dark. And now it bleeds."
I followed her gaze. Below, the waves rolled sluggishly, thick and black as ink. Where they met the rocks, streaks of red spread like veins across the foam. It looked like the ocean itself was wounded, and each pulse of its tide was another heartbeat slipping away.
I stepped closer to the edge. The Veil stirred beneath the surface, its hum rising through the ground and into my bones. My mark answered with a faint glow that shimmered beneath my skin. "It feels alive," I whispered.
"It is," Sofia said. "And it is dying."
The villagers murmured among themselves, prayers to old gods and newer ones alike. A fisherman pulled something from the shallows. A torn net heavy with what should have been fish. When he emptied it, the crowd recoiled.
The fish were pale and eyeless, their scales threaded with veins of silver that pulsed faintly. When one of them split open, black water spilled from its body instead of blood.
The smell hit us all at once. Iron and rot and something older than decay. I covered my mouth, my stomach twisting. The air itself seemed to ripple, thick with unseen power. I could hear it whispering now, the same voice that haunted my dreams.
"You woke me."
I knelt before I could stop myself, reaching toward the water. The moment my fingers brushed the surface, the mark on my chest flared white-hot. A vision flashed behind my eyes.
A vast, endless sea of shadows, and somewhere beneath it, something ancient turning in its sleep. The water pulsed beneath my touch, answering my heartbeat. I felt its pain, its hunger, its longing, its slow endless pull.
Then a hand caught mine, yanking me back. Casimir's voice broke through the noise. "Do not touch it."
He stood beside me, breath harsh, his eyes gold against the gray. The veins along his arm glowed faintly with the same light that burned in my chest. "That is not water anymore," he said. "It is the Veil bleeding through."
I met his gaze, still breathless. "If it is bleeding, then we can heal it."
"You cannot heal what was never alive," he said. "And you cannot keep touching what wants you."
His tone was sharp, but beneath it, I heard the fear. I rose to face him, the crowd watching in wary silence. "You think I do not feel it already? The way it pulls? The way it breathes inside me? I cannot ignore it."
"You must."
"No," I said. "Because if I don't, this town will die. Your world will die."
The air thickened between us, charged with the same strange tension that always found us. The sea seemed to pulse in time with our voices, the waves rolling harder, the mist curling tighter.
My mark glowed brighter, and his arm answered. The connection between us was alive, visible. The villagers stepped back, whispering.
Cas took a slow breath, trying to calm what neither of us could control. "If you keep calling it, it will hear you."
"It already does," I said. "Can't you feel it?"
He stared at me for a long moment, then looked away, jaw tight. "Yes. And that is what terrifies me."
Before either of us could speak again, a small voice cut through the murmurs. "Mama."
I turned. Oliver stood at the edge of the crowd, barefoot, his hair a tangle of gold. Tata Sofia's hand rested on his shoulder, but he had slipped away from her grasp. His wide eyes were fixed on the sea. "It's sick," he said softly. "It's crying."
My heart stopped. "Ollie, stay back."
But he took another step closer, staring at the black water below. "It knows us," he whispered. "It knows you."
Casimir knelt beside him, his movements careful. "You can hear it too?"
Oliver's gaze lifted to his. "It talks to me sometimes. It says your name."
Cas froze. The air shifted. "What name does it use?"
"The one you don't like," Oliver said after a pause. "The one from the sea."
Casimir's eyes darkened. He looked at me, and I saw it there. The truth he had been hiding. Elijah's name was not just a whisper anymore. It was a presence.
The tide surged against the rocks, louder than before. The sea's surface shimmered red, and a faint shape began to rise beneath it, vast and formless. The villagers screamed, retreating toward the town. I grabbed Oliver and pulled him close, his small hands gripping my dress.
Casimir drew his blade, the metal humming faintly in the heavy air. "Get them away from the cliffs."
"I am not leaving you," I said.
"You do not have to," he replied, eyes on the sea. "But you will protect the boy."
The water churned violently. For a moment, I thought I saw eyes beneath the surface... golden, ancient, watching. The same ones from my dreams.
The shape beneath the waves began to dissolve, sinking again into darkness. The sea quieted, too quickly, too completely. The red faded into black. Only the faint hum of the Veil remained.
When the last ripple died, Casimir lowered his sword. The mark on his arm still glowed faintly. "It was only a warning," he said.
"A warning from what?" I asked.
He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "From him."
---
Casimir
Night fell heavy over Havenscove, the sky painted in bruised silver. The waves had not moved again, but I could still feel them shifting beneath the calm, as if waiting for the next breath. The Veil pulsed faintly inside my veins, its rhythm too close to hers.
I stood at the edge of the cliffs, the wind pulling at my coat. The air smelled of salt and blood. Behind me, the town had gone quiet. Ava had taken Oliver home, but even from here, I could feel the echo of her heartbeat through the mark. It called to mine like a tide refusing to turn.
When I looked out at the sea, I saw the faint shimmer again. The shadow beneath the surface. A voice rose from it, soft and low, familiar as my own reflection.
"You cannot protect what belongs to me."
"Elijah," I said.
The sea rippled once, light flashing crimson beneath the black. The voice murmured.
"You stole what I made," But it will return to me in the end."
I gripped the hilt of my blade, though I knew steel meant nothing to the thing beneath the water. "Then come for me first."
The wind stilled. The waves froze mid-motion, caught in their own reflection. For a long, terrible moment, the sea held its breath.
Then the surface bled again, thin red lines spreading across the dark. They pulsed once, twice, then vanished, leaving nothing but silence behind.
The sea bled for the first time that morning, and none of us if it would ever be clean again.