Lira's reflection followed her through the halls, stretched and rippling in the pearl-polished floors. Channels of water ran alongside every corridor, narrow streams that glimmered like liquid glass, carrying whispers that were too soft to catch. Lanterns floated in glass globes overhead, their soft glow cool and watchful. The palace itself seemed alive.
Seri shifted in her arms, dimming its glow until it was no more than a faint shimmer. Lira could feel the little creature's unease, like a knot of cold water pressing against her ribs.
Courtiers lined the edges of the corridor, robed in silks that brushed the marble like waves licking a boat. They whispered as she passed. She caught fragments—"prophecy," "curse," "dangerous"—words that wrapped around her like a net. Lira clutched Seri tighter, wishing she could disappear into its light.
"Keep your head high," Nerith murmured. She walked beside her, calm and straight-backed, as if she were gliding over the tide instead of walking on polished stone.
"I don't like how they're looking at me," Lira whispered.
"They fear what they don't understand," Nerith said softly. "And there's a great deal about you they don't."
They were led to a tall chamber where coral pillars spiraled toward a ceiling shaped like a seashell. Nerith dismissed the guards with a glance, and when the door shut, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
"You did well," she said, turning to Lira. "You didn't flinch at the gate or when they marked you."
Lira frowned. "I almost fainted."
"That's not the same as flinching." Nerith moved to a low table carved from driftwood and poured herself a cup of pale blue tea. "They'll try to break you with fear tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
Nerith's gaze flicked to her, steady and unblinking. "Tidefall waits for no one. If Kai has named you for the trial, it means he's already chosen his side. The Court will be watching to see if he was right."
Lira swallowed. "What… what happens if I fail?"
Nerith sipped her tea, expression unreadable. "You'll leave with the tide."
"Leave where?"
"To wherever the sea takes you," Nerith said. "It's not a mercy."
Lira's fingers curled in Seri's soft skin. The octopus's glow pulsed gently, steady and warm, like it was trying to soothe her.
The door opened without a knock.
Kai stepped inside, his robes trailing sunlight threads behind him, his crown of coral catching the glow from the lanterns. He looked perfectly at home, like the palace itself had been built around him.
"Nerith," he said, voice calm but sharp. "You've caused quite the storm tonight."
"I only carried what the sea demanded," Nerith said.
Kai's eyes flicked to Lira, who shifted closer to Nerith without meaning to. "She's smaller than I expected," he said thoughtfully.
"I'm not small," Lira said before she could stop herself.
That made him smile faintly. "Brave, though."
"She's not a threat," Nerith said.
Kai's gaze sharpened. "Prophecy children are always a threat. That's why the Collectors wanted her."
"Or because they feared her," Nerith countered.
"Fear is not a weakness," Kai said, moving closer. "It's a compass. It tells you where danger lives." He stopped just short of Lira, his gaze sweeping Seri, who pulsed a defensive indigo. "This one is… impressive. I'd almost forgotten what Companions looked like."
"Most people have," Nerith said evenly.
Kai crouched slightly, studying Seri with a cool curiosity. "Do you know what it means, child, to carry something that was thought extinct?"
Lira met his gaze, clutching Seri tighter. "That I'm not alone."
For a moment, something flickered in Kai's expression—surprise, maybe respect—before his face hardened again. "We'll see if the ocean agrees." He straightened and turned to Nerith. "She faces Tidefall at dawn."
Nerith's jaw tightened. "You're using her to test the ocean's favor."
"I'm testing her," Kai said softly. "If she fails, the sea will take her. If she survives, maybe you're right about her." He gave Lira a final assessing glance. "Sleep well, little tide. Dawn comes fast."
He left without waiting for a reply.
Silence lingered after his departure. Nerith moved to the balcony doors, pushing them open. Night air swept in, cool and heavy with salt. Beyond the balcony, the lagoon shimmered under the moon, glowing faintly blue.
"You should sleep," Nerith said, though her tone was softer now. "Tomorrow will be hard."
"I'm not tired," Lira murmured.
"Then listen." Nerith leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "The Tidefall isn't just a trial. It's a judgment. The sea will strip you bare and show you what you are. Most people don't like what they see."
Lira glanced down at Seri, who had curled into her arms. "Will you be there?"
"I'll be watching," Nerith said. "But only you can walk Tidefall."
That night, Lira stood alone on the balcony long after Nana had fallen asleep. The lagoon glowed faintly, and the palace's pearl tiles shone like frozen moonlight. She could hear whispers in the water below, too faint to make out but steady, like voices calling from deep under the surface.
Seri stirred in her arms and pressed against her chest, sending a ripple of calm through her.
The tide was high, higher than it should've been.
"Lira."
The whisper came again, louder this time, carrying her name in a voice that sounded like wind through reeds. She froze, gripping the balcony rail, eyes scanning the glowing lagoon.
The tide was rising.