XVIII: The Ashes of the Sea

The water at the seabed had frozen.

Not in temperature — in feeling.

There was no life, no current.

Only a sacred weight, dragging with it the remnants of an age, a witch… and a belief.

Among the wreckage — the shattered remains of a sacred cave that once dripped with magic and light —

Morska’s body lay buried.

Stones, sea-fragments, coral branches had fallen upon her — as if the sea itself had chosen to cover her.

Dratinaia stood tall above.

Her hair, woven from black kelp and silver strands, moved independently of the water.

Her eyes were slits of light — yellow, like fireflies forgotten to extinguish.

She looked down at her sister’s body.

One corner of her mouth twisted in something between mourning and mockery.

“Had you followed my path… you’d be standing now.

Not… like this,” she whispered, approaching slowly.

With each step, particles of phosphorescent sand rose around her.

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The water seemed to bow.

“You were offered power.

Union. Dominion.

And you… chose the sun.

Chose sacrifice. The most fragile of things,”

she said harshly, with a bitterness that time had not softened.

She leaned down slightly and extended her hands above Morska.

An ancient chant passed her lips — more of a seal than a blessing.

“The wave of the sea covered you.

The blood of hope betrayed you.

The light of Dratinaia… you never saw it.”

She paused. For a heartbeat, she seemed silent.

Then a cold, broken-laugh cracked the stillness.

Not loud — brittle, as if it had escaped a shattered shell.

“Fool.

You died as you lived.

Believing there was honor in prayer,”

she murmured with icy sarcasm.

And then… behind her, a shadow slipped through the water.

Not human.

Not beast.

Something in between.

A fluid body — elegant, muscular, outlined beneath smooth, bluish-green skin.

Shaped like a man, but the eyes… held something unworldly, unfathomably deep.

Marco.

He didn’t speak.

He stood there, back straight, his gaze resting on Morska like a weight.

“So… you came. I expected no less,”

Dratinaia said calmly, without turning fully toward him.

Marco lowered his eyes.

They looked heavy.

“I didn’t imagine… it would end like this,”

he said at last, his voice sunken in the water.

“But nothing ends,”

she replied, a faint smile touching her lips.

“It only transforms. Her body is gone.

Your task is not.”

She stepped closer. Her eyes stripped away layers.

“You led them here.

Just as I asked.

You told me about the gems.

You brought them where I needed them.

Wasn’t that your role?”

Marco’s hands clenched gently.

“I never told them who I was.

Not about you.

Not… why Sheila was the one to be sacrificed,”

he said tightly, without remorse.

Dratinaia held his gaze, unmoving.

“They’ll learn.

When the sea shows them what trust means…

or betrayal,”

she answered slowly.

She turned again to Morska.

A current stirred, lifting a strand of kelp from her still face.

“I loved you… but I do not forgive you,”

she whispered — like a confession that deserved no absolution.

Then, she looked back. Her eyes, now hardened.

“Prepare yourself.

The Kingdom of Dolphins awaits.

And blood… has memories to awaken.”