POV: Beth
Dawn breaks gray as tarnished steel when the bells ring us awake. The deck smells of wet rope and blood still lodged in cracks of wood. The world hasn’t forgiven us for breathing after Kraken—every creak of the ship feels like a warning.
I wrap my fingers around the rail, gaze at the horizon. The sea shifts like muscle. Every wave feels aware. Like it’s listening.
I inhale. Focus.
If I am truly saltborn… if water answered me once… surely it can again.
I stretch my hand toward the tide like a prayer I don’t yet understand. My pulse thunders. My wrist tingles under the pirate mark, as though ink burns with old memory.
"Come," I whisper.
For a moment—nothing.
But then the waves hesitate.
Just slightly. Barely. Yet unmistakably.
They pause like breath held in a giant chest.
My heart slams into my ribs. Wind whips hair into my face. I step closer on unsteady feet, daring the impossible again. "Move," I breathe.
The tide shifts. Sand pulls backward like dragged by invisible hand. A small wave curls toward me—not random, not natural. It answers.
My breath catches. A laugh escapes me—half-shock, half-terror.
"I knew it," I whisper, shaking. "I can feel you."
Then—the wave grows.
Too fast.
Water surges higher than a man’s shoulders like it means to swallow the deck whole. Panic jolts through me. "Stop!"
And just as sudden as it rose—
it obeys.
The wave collapses harmlessly, slapping wood with sigh instead of strike.
My knees weaken. I grab the rail, trembling all over. I just commanded the sea.
Holy gods.
Footsteps crunch behind me.
I turn.
Mira stands in shadow under the upper deck beams—arms crossed, lips glossy, eyes too knowing. "Practicing spells before breakfast?" she purrs.
I stiffen. "Just… watching the water."
"Mm." Her smile is thin. "Funny. The water was watching you."
She steps closer, boots soft like predatory paws. "Alaric should not keep secrets from his crew." Her gaze lingers on my wrist, then my face. "Especially secrets that glow."
My skin crawls. "I don’t know what you think you saw—"
"Oh, I saw enough." She touches the rail beside my hand—too casual. "Silas is right. Power bows to you. Even the sea."
Her voice lowers like a knife being sheathed. "Be careful who sees you bend it."
Before I find words, she’s gone, hips swaying as if she owns every eye. The air feels colder after she leaves. The crew begins moving—hauling ropes, sharpening blades, repairing the wounded mast.
I force myself to act normal—help tie sails, carry planks, scrub dried blood though my mind storms wider than ocean.
By noon, Alaric emerges from below deck—coat torn but posture arrogant as always. When his gaze skims me, something unreadable flickers. He looks away fast, barking orders.
"Port ahead! We dock for repairs and supplies. No one wanders alone. That includes you, princess."
I bite back retort. He didn’t even check my injuries from yesterday. Fine. I don’t need him to.
Kaine slaps a rope bundle onto my arms with smirk. "Lift, Saltblood."
"Don’t call me that."
"Then stop glowing like prophecy," he replies and walks off.
Infuriating men everywhere.
We reach port near dusk—smoke coils from chimneys, taverns roar with drunken songs. Not exactly welcoming. Half these pirates would sell their mothers for coin.
While the crew goes to barter timber, I slip to quieter stretch of beach, heart thudding. I need to understand myself. I kneel, touch water again, whisper to it. Waves shiver as if leaning closer. They vibrate under my fingertips—reverent or hungry, I can’t tell.
Suddenly, a pebble skitters behind me.
Mira again. Watching. Always watching.
"You’re hiding a storm," she whispers. "Be careful it doesn’t drown you."
I grind my jaw. "And you’re hiding poison. Be careful I don’t taste it."
She laughs softly—too pleased. "I like you more now."
I step back. My mark pulses. The tide shifts like heartbeat under soles of my boots.
She looks delighted, not horrified. That frightens me most.