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She filled her lungs with air, hauled over the railing, and dove as Wren landed in her palm.

The transformation of her body came as natural as walking. Like many deities, Naia was capable of shapeshifting. Her legs fused together underwater, forming an elongated fin, and scales the color of a lazurite crystal.

Naia held Wren firmly in her grasp and swam up the river against the stream. Souls screeched and cried, begging to take them with her. Their grasps were like snakeskin, coiling around her arms as she fought through their prying hands. I’m sorry!

Naia braced herself as she was spit out into the sea. Her eyes stung, adjusting to the salt water. She kicked her fin to launch herself forward.

The tide was calm, unmoving. A tranquil roll, barely a murmur. It told Naia the weather was stable above the surface. Which would cause alarm among the mortals when a random storm blew through.

Mira’s wrath would not draw in heavy, lead soaked clouds to the horizon, or coat the air with a forewarning dew.

From past explorations, Naia had every inch of the Kaimana Sea memorized.

A groan shook through the water. Fish scampered across her path, popping bubbles over her cheeks. The sudden pull of the riptide jarred her backwards.

She gritted her teeth and flapped her fin, propelling her arms against its suction.

You can do this.

Locking the muscles in her abdomen, she pushed her fin harder to force herself up and out of the tide’s grasp. She reached her arm out. Her fingers broke through the surface of the sea and met the warm air of the Mortal Land.

Naia floated with the tide, swinging her head to peer over the stirring, white-capped waves. Ahead were the twinkling lights of Nohealani Island. She wasn’t far.

A rod of lightning impaled the billowy gray clouds. A deafening cacophony of thunder rang out behind it. The tide furled around her fin and seized her back under water.

“Come back at once!” Mira’s voice trembled through the sea like an earthquake.

Naia’s heart pounded painfully in her chest as she thrashed her fin to fight free.

Mira could shake the waters of the sea with all her strength, but Naia wouldn’t give up. She just had to make it onto the shore.

Deities could travel on Mortal Land as they pleased, but Naia’s mother was not one of them.

Naia clamped her teeth together and screamed.

With the willpower of a goddess of war, she fought against Mira’s riptide.

Naia’s vision flickered.

She blinked through the stinging of the salt water as agony stabbed in her right temple. She cringed, sucking in a breath through her teeth. A bolt of pain rippled through her ribcage from the inhale. The pungent taste of metal flooded her senses, snaking tingles up her nape. Her head went light, threatening to clip the last thread of her consciousness.

Another wave clobbered over her back, and she groaned, sinking her elbows and knees further into the sand. The persistent downfall of rain beat against her backside as she dragged herself across the bank, before the claws of Mira’s tide could suck her back in. Her fingernails clung to the wet slab of sand, and she buried her elbows and knees into its surface.

Wren held in her cemented grip.

When she could no longer feel the washing of the warm tide grazing her toes, her arms gave way and she collapsed onto her stomach.

A burst of euphoria exploded like a firework in her chest.

I did it!

The storm continued to rage over her with a deafening clap of thunder.

You’re not out of the woods yet.

Naia drug her chin through the sand to lift her head and assess her surroundings. Beyond the shore was a silhouette of trees—colossal palms with enormous leaves whipping in the wind. In the distance, a faint light broke through the rain and thicket.

The town square.