Lysera woke in the blue hush before dawn, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain. The sea beyond Aquarion's walls murmured against the cliffs, and somewhere in the city, temple bells chimed the hour. She lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling's swaying shadows, listening to the rhythm of water in the pipes and walls—a music only she seemed to hear.
She touched her chest, feeling her heart's steady beat. Yet beneath it, there was always another pulse, softer, stranger, like the echo of a distant wave. It had haunted her since childhood: a sense she belonged to the world, and yet not wholly to herself. Sometimes, in dreams, she wandered storm-lit beaches or drifted through gardens she had never seen, guided by laughter and loss. Sometimes she woke with the taste of ash or the sting of tears that were not her own.
A soft knock at the door. "Lysera?" Selara's voice, gentle as the tide. "Breakfast before the temple."
Lysera pushed herself up, smoothing tangled hair from her face. The room was filled with living vines—gifts from Selara, coaxed to bloom in the city's damp air. Her staff, entwined with green growth, rested by the window. She reached for it out of habit, feeling the soul-deep thrum that always answered her touch.
Selara waited in the hall, silver-eyed and smiling. She took Lysera's hand, squeezing it. "Rough night? You were calling out again."
Lysera smiled, though her eyes were tired. "Just dreams. They feel so real sometimes."
They walked together through winding halls, past fountains and mosaics that shimmered in the early light. The city was waking; water-mages shaped the tides, and the air was alive with magic and song. Lysera watched the play of light on water, searching for patterns. This morning, the reflections seemed fractured, as if the world were made of broken glass.
In the temple, she knelt before the altar, listening to the prayers of healers and tidecallers. She closed her eyes, reaching inward. For a moment, she felt herself drift—a sensation like floating between two tides. The boundaries of her mind melted, and she glimpsed a sky filled with fractured stars, molten rivers carving through black stone, and a distant figure—someone watching, waiting, reaching out.
Her breath caught. Lysera tried to hold onto the vision, but it slipped away, leaving only longing and the faintest warmth in her chest.
After prayers, Selara found her by the fountains. "You looked lost for a moment," she said.
Lysera smiled, brushing her hair back. "I think I was found, just for a heartbeat."
As the day began, Lysera moved through the city's sunlit streets, her staff in hand, the world shifting just beneath her feet. Somewhere, she knew, another soul was searching too, and between them, the tides of memory and hope were rising.