The morning sun warmed the shoreline, yet Lyrielle felt cold.
Seloria kept an arm around her as they walked, guiding her gently across the sand as though she feared Lyrielle might dissolve into mist if left unsupervised. In truth, Lyrielle wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't.
Everything felt too bright.
Too loud.
Too alive.
The gulls overhead carved cries into the sky; the breeze carried scents of salt and earth and something sweet she could not name. Even the sunlight seemed sharp enough to cut. It was overwhelming — a world she once belonged to but now felt freshly born into.
Seloria sensed the trembling in her steps.
"You're here," she said softly. "You're really here. Not a dream. Not a memory."
Lyrielle stopped walking. The waves curled around her ankles; she stared down at her reflection, rippling in the tide. Her hair was longer than she'd remembered, the colour shifting between moon-silver and seafoam white. Her eyes—once soft, earthly brown—held pale rings like the inside of broken shells.
"Am I alive?" she whispered.
Seloria hesitated. "…You breathe, you bleed, you stand before me. If that is life, then yes."
Lyrielle touched her chest. Her heartbeat fluttered like a bird trying to remember how to fly.
"What about the sea?" she asked. "It demanded a sacrifice once. Will it demand me again?"
Seloria took her hands, steady and warm. "If it tries, it will have to fight me for you."
Lyrielle exhaled a faint laugh, though worry still lingered like a shadow.
The return was not seamless.
When they reached the village, people stared—not out of malice, but in awe, confusion, even fear.
"Is that—?"
"She looks like the drowned bride from the old tales—"
"No, impossible, she's been gone for—"
"Seloria brought someone back from the sea…"
Children peeked from behind door frames. Old women crossed themselves. Even the air seemed to shiver around Lyrielle, as though reality struggled to fully accept her presence.
Seloria walked protectively at her side, glare sharp enough to silence whispers.
At their cottage, she helped Lyrielle sit by the hearth. The fire crackled warmly, but its glow reflected strangely in Lyrielle's eyes, as though her soul still held remnants of moonlight.
Seloria brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "How do you feel?"
Lyrielle searched for the right word.
"Untethered."
Seloria faltered, guilt flickering across her face. "I… pulled you from the dream. Perhaps too quickly. Perhaps too violently."
Lyrielle placed a gentle hand over hers. "You pulled me because you loved me. Do not apologise for that."
Seloria lowered her forehead to Lyrielle's hand, relief loosening her shoulders.
Night came quietly.
Lyrielle lay on Seloria's bed, the linen smelling of lavender and old pages. Seloria sat beside her, tracing the outline of her wrist with a cautious thumb.
"Sleep," Seloria murmured. "You'll feel steadier tomorrow."
Lyrielle closed her eyes.
But sleep, when it came, was not gentle.
She dreamed of deep water — not the dream-sea of silver mist, but the real ocean, dark and ancient. Something stirred in its depths, vast and slow. Eyes opened far below the waves, luminous and watching.
A voice echoed through her mind, hollow and resonant:
"What was taken must be balanced."
Lyrielle gasped, sitting upright. Seloria woke at once, reaching for her.
"What is it? What did you see?"
Lyrielle clutched Seloria's arm, breath shaking. "Something moved beneath the waves. Something old. And it knows I'm back."
Seloria's eyes hardened with protective fire. "Let it come."
Lyrielle shook her head, dread curling through her. "No. You don't understand. It isn't angry… it's waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
Lyrielle swallowed.
"For the price."
The next morning, the sea changed.
The tide had crawled unnaturally high, leaving dark kelp and strange shells scattered across the village paths. The waves carried whispers—actual whispers—soft as breath yet clear as words:
"Returned…"
"Awakened…"
"Balance…"
Villagers fled from the shore. Doors slammed. Prayers were spoken.
Seloria stood at the edge of the water, fists clenched, hair whipping in the wind.
Lyrielle joined her, the wind swirling around her like a lover recognising its lost child.
Seloria took her hand. "We'll face it together."
Lyrielle squeezed back, fear and determination mingling in her gaze.
"Seloria…" she whispered. "I think the sea… remembers too."
And as if to answer her, the waves parted briefly- revealing a glimpse of something immense moving beneath.
Not monstrous.
Not angry.
But ancient.
And awake.