The starship descended toward Coral Reach as the afternoon sun painted the ocean in hues of turquoise and gold. Below, the coastal village clung to a rocky shore: weathered wooden cottages with thatched roofs, a long pier stretching into the sea, and piles of tattered fishing nets stacked near the water's edge—their mesh frayed, some torn clean through. A group of fishermen stood on the pier, their faces grim as they stared at the empty boats bobbing in the waves, while women mended nets with shaky hands, the thread snapping more often than it held.
Lin Che landed the starship on a patch of sand near the pier, and a man with salt-crusted hair and a faded blue tunic hurried over. He held a frayed net in one hand, the mesh hanging loose like unraveled thread. "You're the travelers from Thornwick," he said, his voice rough from years of shouting over the wind. "I'm Maris—Coral Reach's head fisherman. Our nets have been tearing for weeks. At first, it was just small holes, but now? They fall apart mid-catch. And the fish… they're thin, listless. We barely haul enough to feed our families, let alone trade. The sea's always been kind to us, but now it's like it's pushing us away."
Xiao Ya walked to the shore, her boots sinking into the wet sand. She knelt, dipping her hand into the gentle waves, and her fingers glowed soft green. A quiet murmur filled the air—from the crashing waves, from the seaweed tangled in the rocks, from the tiny fish darting near the shore—and she closed her eyes, listening. When she opened them, her expression was tender, not troubled. "The sea's not angry," she said, turning to Maris. "It's grieving. A school of coral near the fishing grounds—old, vital coral that feeds the fish and shelters small creatures—has been dying. The coral says ships from far away dropped heavy anchors on it, breaking its branches. Without the coral, the fish have no food, no place to hide… and the sea's water has grown unbalanced, making your nets rot fast."
Maris's jaw tightened, a look of guilt crossing his face. "We saw the broken coral last month, but we thought it was just a storm. We didn't stop to fix it—we were too busy chasing fish. The old folks used to say the coral was the sea's 'heart.' We forgot that."
Mo Ying slung her toolbox over her shoulder, already inspecting a tattered net. She ran her finger over the frayed mesh, frowning. "We'll fix two things: first, the nets—we'll treat them with pine resin from Pine Ridge to make 'em tough against the sea. Second, the coral—we'll help it regrow. Lin Che, you can help Maris gather intact coral fragments (gently, so we don't break more). Su Qing, can you use runes to speed the coral's healing? Something to help it bond back together?"
Su Qing flipped open her Arcane Manual, pointing to a page of water and life runes. "Runes for ocean renewal—they'll infuse the coral with energy and help the fragments attach to the broken branches. Maris, do you have extra rope and small clay pots? We'll use the pots to hold the coral fragments while they heal."
Maris nodded eagerly, calling over his daughter Lira—a girl of 13 with sun-bleached hair and a scar across her cheek from a fishing hook. "We've got coils of hemp rope in the boathouse, and Ma saved clay pots from last year's harvest! Lira can help—she's the best at handling delicate stuff, even better than me."
Lira stepped forward, her hands clasped behind her back. "I can carry the pots! And I know where the healthy coral is—Pa taught me to read the sea's currents."
The work began at once. Maris and Lin Che took a small boat out to the damaged coral bed, carefully collecting intact fragments and placing them in damp cloths. Lira and Xiao Ya stayed on the shore, sorting the fragments by size—Xiao Ya whispering to each piece, encouraging it to cling and grow. Mo Ying melted pine resin in a metal pot over a small fire, then brushed it onto the tattered nets; the resin seeped into the mesh, hardening into a waterproof layer that made the nets stiff but strong.
Su Qing carved the renewal runes into the clay pots, then filled each with seawater and a handful of seaweed. When Maris and Lin Che returned with the coral fragments, they placed each piece into a pot—Su Qing setting the pots near the water's edge, where the waves could lap at them gently. "The runes need the sea's touch to work," she explained to Lira. "Every wave will feed the coral a little more life."
By late afternoon, the first net was mended. Maris took it out in his boat, casting it into the water—and when he hauled it back, it was full of plump, silver fish, the mesh holding strong. The villagers on the pier cheered, waving their hats, and Lira jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "It works! The net works!"
That evening, the villagers of Coral Reach held a feast on the sand. They roasted the fresh fish over an open fire, served bread from Thornwick's saved grain, and passed around a jug of berry wine. Maris sat with Lin Che and the others, peeling a fish with calloused fingers. "My granddad used to tell me the sea gives only if you give back," he said. "We forgot that, but you reminded us. You didn't just fix our nets—you fixed our relationship with the sea."
Before they left the next morning, Maris handed Lin Che a small shell—smooth, pearlescent, and etched with tiny waves. "This is a tide shell," he said. "Hold it to your ear, and you can hear the sea's breath. Take it, and remember Coral Reach. Remember that the sea's not just something to take from… it's something to care for."
Lin Che took the shell, holding it to his ear. He heard the soft rush of waves, like the sea was whispering a thank-you. He tucked it into his pocket, smiling.
They climbed aboard the starship, waving goodbye. Maris and Lira stood on the pier, holding the tide shell aloft, while the villagers waved from the shore. The mended nets hung from the boats, fluttering in the sea breeze, and the coral pots near the water's edge glowed faintly with the light of Su Qing's runes.
Inside the cabin, Xiao Ya placed the tide shell on the dashboard—joining the wheat seed pouch from Thornwick, the warm stone from Mistveil, and all their other treasures. Su Qing flipped open Li Wei's map, her finger stopping at a village nestled between two mountains. "Stonehaven," she said. "Li Wei's notes say their mountain springs have dried up. The village depends on the springs for water—without it, their livestock is thirsty, and their vegetable gardens are dying."
Mo Ying grinned, adjusting the starship's controls. "Mountain springs? We fixed tattered nets, wilted wheat, icy lakes—dry springs are next. Xiao Ya can talk to the underground streams, find out why the springs stopped. I'll help dig a channel if we need to—nothing a little muscle can't fix."
Lin Che looked out the window, at the ocean glinting below. The Star Marrow on his wrist glowed softly, matching the pearlescent sheen of the tide shell. This was their journey: listening to the land, the sea, the villages—and answering with care. Every problem was a chance to mend, every village a chance to bring hope.
"Stonehaven," he said. "Let's go find those springs."
The starship turned north, toward the snow-capped mountains on the horizon. The sea breeze faded, replaced by the crisp scent of pine, and the sun rose higher, lighting their path. A new village waited, a new mystery to unravel—and as always, they were ready.