Sea Calendar Year 1510 – Maris, Age 9
The forest seemed to watch her.
Maris ran barefoot across the soft moss, laughter spilling into the early morning mist. Tiny hands brushed against ferns and twisting roots, leaving faint glimmers behind—subtle traces of something more than her presence. The wind caught her hair and curled around her fingertips, playful and light, responding to her movements in ways she did not consciously understand. Sometimes it tugged at leaves, stirred the air around her, or whispered faintly through the canopy. To Maris, it was a game, a dance with invisible friends.
"Careful!" called a small, furred creature with delicate gossamer wings. Its voice trembled with worry. "You mustn't wander too far near the cliffs!"
Maris skidded to a stop, spinning in place. "I'm not scared! I can feel if something's coming!" Her wide, bright blue eyes shone with simple trust in herself. She didn't know where the words came from, only that instinct told her the edge of the island was dangerous.
A moment later, a shadow passed over her—a branch, weakened by wind, snapping toward the ground. Maris jumped back instinctively, landing lightly just as the branch splintered where she had been moments before. Her heartbeat raced, but she laughed instead of panicking. It was not fear she felt—it was exhilaration. She looked down at her hands, blinking, as if noticing for the first time that she had moved in perfect time to avoid danger. Almost as if the forest itself had whispered a warning only she could hear.
The creatures murmured among themselves, their voices low and uncertain. None had ever witnessed such reflexes. Maris was still a child—messy, clumsy, and often forgetful—but in moments like this, the island seemed to bend subtly around her.
Later, Maris reached the small waterfall at the centre of the island. She splashed into the shallow pool, giggling as the water curved and twisted around her fingertips. Tiny waves formed at her touch, responding to the slightest gestures, and the shimmering light danced across the surface in ways no ordinary child could command. She squealed, unaware of the subtle power she held over the elements.
A silver-feathered creature landed beside her. "You… have grown stronger," it murmured, unsure whether to feel awe or apprehension.
Maris tilted her head. "Stronger? I just wanted to splash!" she said, laughing. Her innocence made everything feel natural—play, fun, and laughter—without thought of consequences.
As the day wore on, her curiosity drew her closer to the cliffs than she had ever dared before. She crouched at the edge, looking out over the endless blue. The wind tugged at her hair, and the spray kissed her cheeks. Small hands gripped the twisted roots of a tree as she whispered to herself, almost absentmindedly:
"I wonder… what's out there?"
The creatures behind her stiffened. No human had ever spoken of the sea beyond the island with such innocent curiosity. She asked it simply, without thought, like wondering what a cloud might taste like.
Maris didn't yet know that the world outside her hidden island would not remain hidden forever. The pull of adventure, the curiosity of what lay beyond, had begun.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows through the trees. Maris sat on the cliff edge, legs dangling, eyes fixed on the horizon. A gentle breeze lifted her hair, carrying the faint scent of salt and distant lands. Beneath her feet, the same presence that had protected her as a baby pulsed softly, humming in response to her growing awareness.
For now, she was still just Maris: innocent, playful, curious. But hints of her extraordinary nature were surfacing—small ripples that would one day become waves.
Sea Calendar Year 1513 – Maris, Age 12
The forest was alive in ways Maris had never fully understood.
Branches swayed above her, though the wind was still. Leaves glittered faintly when brushed, as if aware of her presence. When she stumbled over a mossy root, she landed on her feet without a sound, bouncing lightly as if the island itself had guided her.
"Maris…" whispered a silver-winged creature above, eyes wide. "That… was impossible."
Maris laughed, brushing dirt from her knees. "I just fell!" she said, though her chest thrummed with the familiar pulse of power—the same presence that had protected her as a baby, now stronger, almost impatient. The forest responded subtly, shielding her, guiding her, even when she did not realise it.
The cliffs called to her again today. She approached cautiously, squinting at the horizon beyond. Endless blue stretched farther than her imagination. For the first time, she felt a spark she could not ignore.
"What's out there?" she whispered. "Is there… more than just this?"
The creatures stiffened. The island had kept her safe and hidden for years. Her yearning was small, yet undeniable, tugging at her heart like a quiet wind.
Drawn by a strange pull, Maris wandered deeper into the forest than ever before. The trees grew taller and older, their roots curling like the fingers of sleeping giants. A faint hum resonated through the ground beneath her feet. She knelt to touch it, feeling vibrations coil around her small hands.
Then she saw it.
A fruit unlike anything she had ever imagined rested in a hollow at the base of a massive tree. Its skin shimmered in shifting green and gold patterns, like sunlight through leaves. The fruit pulsed faintly, almost alive, and a sweet, earthy scent reached her nose.
Maris blinked. "What… are you?"
The creatures gasped, whispering warnings too soft for her to hear. Some hovered nervously; others trembled. Even the trees seemed to lean back, giving her space.
She reached out cautiously, fingers brushing the smooth, patterned skin. The moment she touched it, a shiver ran through her. The fruit pulsed faster, almost eagerly. Maris pulled her hand back, startled. She had never felt anything like it.
A gust of wind swirled around her, lifting hair and leaves. She laughed, thinking it a game—but the wind had responded to her alone. She could feel the air bending subtly, though she did not yet know how or why.
Heart pounding, she lifted the fruit. Its weight was strange, neither heavy nor light, and warmth radiated from it. She cradled it like a treasure, eyes wide, unaware of the power she now held.
"Maris…" a creature murmured in awe. "That fruit… is not ordinary."
"Not ordinary?" she echoed. "I like it!" Her laughter carried through the forest, and the trees leaned closer as if listening. Wind twisted around her arms, water in a nearby stream rippled unnaturally, and soil hummed quietly beneath her feet.
The island itself was responding.
For the first time, Maris understood in her own way that she could touch the world—and the world would touch back. The island, the very ground she had grown up on, had been preparing her all along.
The sun dipped lower, painting long shadows across the clearing. Maris held the fruit close, eyes sparkling. Beyond the cliffs, the sea glimmered like molten glass. She did not know why, but the horizon called to her as strongly as the fruit did in her hands.
Her journey beyond the island had already begun… even if she did not yet know it.
And deep in the forest, hidden from view, the ancient trees hummed softly, recognising something new and extraordinary: a child, innocent, playful, curious. But not entirely ordinary.
Maris smiled.
The island sighed.
The world outside waited.