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I drift in shadow. Gauze and a helmsman’s grate veil the moon’s consoling light. My body, a sudden stranger, spurns my commands.

What affliction is this? I cannot move. I cannot fight, nor strike, nor weep!

Never have I felt water so confounding and strange. It thrums with the ocean’s remnant call, but just as scales shed are not tail-skin, this is not Ocean. Though my bond to the estuary strains the farther this alien vessel carries me away, it is not yet severed. I am, lamentably, still here.

My wrists feel bound. With effort, I drag my fingers to my chest...

No. The shell. The eastern oyster’s dwelling you meant for me to carve, Mother. It is gone.

You are gone.

I watched as your voice joined the Currents, my deadly errors to blame. Would that my heart had borne that fatal blow instead of yours!

Now that I am torn from Neptune’s robes, shall I ever hear your song again?