Page 11

11

SERA

I am drowning.

Or maybe I am flying.

The world stretches wide, endless, a vast churning abyss of color and sound. Water and sky merge into one, silver waves cresting beneath a heavy, storm-laden sky. The wind howls, but it does not chill. It moves through me, around me, threading fingers through strands of hair that drift like liquid silver.

Somewhere in the distance, a voice sings.

It is not my own.

But I know it.

The melody undulates, rising and falling with the swell of the waves, a song woven of salt and longing. It pulls, urging me forward, whispering welcome home in a language I do not understand but feel deep within my bones.

I step forward.

My bare feet press against the surface of the water, but I do not sink. The ocean cradles me, buoyant, gentle, a lover’s touch disguised as something vast and unknowable.

The horizon shifts, dark shapes moving just beneath the surface—not shadows, not fish, but something else.

Something like me.

The song grows louder, threading through my chest, curling beneath my gut, making my blood hum with something ancient, something buried.

My breath shudders from my lips, but I do not turn away.

I should be afraid but I am not.

Not of this.

Not of them.

What are they? What am I?

A shape rises from the depths. A figure, tall and impossible, obsidian skin gleaming with seawater, hair cascading in tangled, silken waves of black and blue. Eyes like the deepest part of the ocean—unfathomable, endless.

His lips part, and the song changes.

It shifts, bends, shaping itself into something sharper, something that demands.

"Remember."

The word vibrates through me, not spoken but sung.

A command wrapped in melody.

A whisper of who I was meant to be.

I wake with a gasp, the dream shattering like glass.

The bed beneath me is too soft, the sheets tangled around my limbs, soaked in sweat. My chest rises and falls too fast, my pulse slamming in my throat, my body aching with something unexplainable.

I press my palms against the mattress, grounding myself in the reality of this room, of this cage. I look around, and I’m in the room.

Should I be thankful that he didn’t throw me in the dungeons after I tried to escape?

I frown, shaking my head. Then, the song from my dream spills from my lips as if I’m doing this on instinct.

It still lingers.

A phantom echo in my veins.

A thing waiting to be remembered.

I shudder, curling my hands into fists.

I have never seen the ocean.

Yet, I miss it.

I don't have a clue about what’s happening to me.

But I do understand one thing.

Veylan cannot know.

Whatever is waking inside me, whatever I am—it is dangerous.

If he realizes it, I will never leave this place alive.