The Sundered Sky
THE DREAMING SEA
The council lasted for three days.
The gods argued among themselves, their voices rising and falling like the tides. Aeris wanted to wait, to see which gods woke and what they wanted. Ignis wanted to attack, to strike first before the hungry gods could gather strength. Undine wanted to hide, to retreat to the deep places where the hungry gods could not follow. Terra wanted to build, to fortify the Spire, to prepare for a siege.
Umbra wanted to watch.
Lux wanted to hope.
Tempus wanted to sleep.
Lyra listened.
She did not speak. She had learned, in her months of traveling, that listening was more important than speaking. The gods had been silent for centuries. They needed to be heard.
On the third day, a new god stirred.
Not in the Spire. In the sea. Deep beneath the waves, where the sunlight never reached. A god of the deep places. A god of the crushing dark. A god who dreamed of drowning the world.
“The Dreaming Sea,” Undine whispered. “I felt him. He is waking.”
Lyra stood.
“Where is he?”
“In the trench. The deepest place. Where the water is cold and the pressure would crush a human like an egg.”
“Can you take me to him?”
Undine’s green eyes widened.
“You would die. The pressure—”
“Then teach me how to survive.”
Undine looked at Aeris. Aeris looked at Ignis. Ignis looked at Terra.
“She is brave,” Terra said. “Foolish. But brave.”
“She is the last Chorister,” Aeris said. “If anyone can speak to the Dreaming Sea, she can.”
“Or she will drown,” Umbra said. “Either way, the problem is solved.”
Lyra ignored him.
“Teach me,” she said to Undine. “Teach me to breathe underwater. To speak without air. To sing in the deep.”
Undine nodded slowly.
“Come. I will show you.”
The sea was cold.
Lyra stood on the shore, looking out at the gray waves. The wind whipped her hair across her face. The salt spray stung her eyes. Undine stood beside her, her green skin glowing faintly in the twilight.
“The first lesson,” Undine said, “is not about breathing. It is about trust. The sea is not your enemy. It is not your friend. It simply is. You must accept it. Embrace it. Become part of it.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then learn.”
Undine walked into the water.
The waves parted around her, welcoming her, embracing her. She did not swim. She walked, her feet finding the sandy bottom, her robes floating around her like seaweed.
Lyra followed.
The water was shockingly cold. It stole her breath. It numbed her legs. It pulled at her clothes, dragging her down.
She kept walking.
The water rose to her waist. Her chest. Her shoulders.
“Breathe,” Undine said.
“I can’t breathe underwater.”
“You can. You just don’t know how yet. The sea will teach you. If you let it.”
Lyra closed her eyes.
She let the water cover her head.