"They say water holds no scars.
But the sea I saw... it has forgotten nothing.
It whispers the names of the dead
And plants doubt in the hearts of the living.
I only wanted to flee.
But the sea... it wanted me to remember."
Scene 1: Serenya Wants to Leave
The sky above Feulène was pearly gray, almost unreal.
Birds circled silently around the imperial towers.
In the gold‑walled chamber, Serenya stood facing the ancient map of the kingdom.
Her finger rested on a faded blue line.
- The Silent Sea. That's where I'm going.
Sylus lifted his gaze from his seat, silent at first.
- Why?
- Because the Palace whispers too much. And I... I want to hear something other than walls.
He studied the map, then her.
- You want to run.
- I want to remember who I am. Before them. Before you. Before the salt.
Kamintha, seated by the fire, nodded slowly.
- The sea doesn't give you answers. It reflects what you dare not see.
- Then it will see me naked
Silence.
Then Sylus, quietly:
- Go. Take a few guards. Be cautious.
- No guards.
He raised an eyebrow.
- This is an empire.
- This is my silence.
He closed his eyes, inhaled.
- Then go. But know that even there... I watch.
She said nothing. But something passed between them.
An agreement. Or an unspoken vow.
She left at dawn the next morning.
A travel dress, leather boots, and a red‑pearl necklace around her neck.
Kamintha accompanied her. Two horses. No visible escort.
But she knew.
Someone would follow them.
Scene 2: The Road to the Sea
The mountain receded behind them like a half‑swallowed dream.
The road to the sea wound down through stone forests, abandoned fields, and villages half‑erased by the wind.
Villagers bowed as they passed, unsure whether out of respect... or force of habit.
Serenya rode in silence, thoughts swirling like the red scrub on the plateau.
- How many queens have tried to escape these walls?
Kamintha broke the silence now and then, leaving markers in the invisible.
- Long ago, this land belonged to the Velema people. They revered the sea. Not as a goddess, but as memory. They said the sea kept everything, even lost words.
- And now?
- We have silenced the sea. And those who listened.
Serenya turned her head. The trees thinned. A salty tang born in the air.
- Then I will speak to it.
They passed an ancient grave.
A weathered monolith etched with faded symbols, spirals, open hands, a wave.
Kamintha dismounted.
She touched the stone, closed her eyes, whispered in ancient Comorian:
"Maishapvé ya mwema. Nyandza ya milele. Rehefa miala amin'ny reny, dia miditra amin'ny ranomasina."
("Hope, oh memory. When you leave the mother, you enter the sea.")
Serenya shivered.
She didn't know what she would find.
But she knew she needed it.
Scene 3: Arrival at the Cliff
The stone sanctuary overlooked the sea like an old eagle asleep.
It was a roofless ruin, built into the living rock.
Inside, only stone benches, an empty altar, and a wind that whistled nameless songs.
Serenya dismounted.
Kamintha set down their gear. No words.
They would sleep here.
Facing them, the Silent Sea lay like a mirror sheet.
No waves. No voices. Just deep, ancient black‑blue silence.
Serenya approached the edge.
Wind tangled in her hair. The salt stung her throat.
- Here, I become whole again.
She removed her boots and stepped barefoot to the cliff's edge.
Eyes closed.
A memory rose in her mind.
Her mother's song, chasing nightmares away.
"Tsisy lamba manarona ahy, fa ny ranomasina no fialofako."
("No veil covers me, the sea alone shelters me.")
She stood like that for a long time.
Then, slowly, sat down.
Sea before her. Sky behind her.
And a breath behind her.
But when she turned...
No one was there.
Scene 4: The Shadow at Night
Night fell on the sea without a sound.
Even the stars hesitated to reflect in that water.
Serenya half‑slept, wrapped in a white cloak, lying on the warm sanctuary stone.
Kamintha had fallen asleep farther away, in shadow.
Yet she felt him.
Before sound. Before breath.
She sensed someone watching.
She sat up slowly, silent.
A soft footstep on stone. A rustle of cloth. A contained presence.
She looked over her shoulder. And there he was Sylus.
Half in shadow, clad in black. His gaze lost, his face tired.
- You followed me?
He didn't reply.
He sat at a respectful distance, yet his eyes never left her.
- I told you I wanted to be alone.
- And I never told you I knew how to obey.
Silence.
The sea was so still, it might have been a world without air.
- Why did you come?
- Because I remembered this place. And feared thinking of it without you.
His words were broken, yet true.
- You think we heal, returning here?
He closed his eyes.
- No. But we remember who we were before we fell.
Scene 5: The Submerged Memory
That night, Sérenya dreamed.
She saw herself as a child, running barefoot across the red sands of Tsaravina, her sister's laughter behind her.
Her mother sang beneath a tree, braiding palm leaves.
The wind carried scents of mango and ash.
Then everything darkened.
She saw the imperial palace, drowned beneath water.
Submerged thrones. Faceless visages empty of eyes. And the sea singing:
"You cannot rule without remembering. You cannot love without drowning."
She awoke with a start.
Salt on her cheeks. But it wasn't the sea.
It was her tears.
And Sylus... was there.
Seated against the wall, arms crossed, eyes open toward the sea.
As if he hadn't slept.
As if he had watched.
- You cried.
- I remembered.
- What?
- What I lost. What they cannot steal from me.
He looked at her. Long.
- You are stronger than I am.
- You are more broken than I am. Yet here you are.
They remained so in the dawn's half‑light.
Neither enemies nor lovers. Not yet.
But no longer alone.
Scene 6: Fire and Water
Morning stretched slowly over the sea.
The horizon was blurred, like a dream you don't want to leave.
Sérenya kindled a small fire with dry herbs gathered near the sanctuary.
Sylus helped silently.
They didn't look at each other.
Yet every gesture spoke volumes.
- So you can make fire, after all.
- I'm not just a broken king.
- No. You're also a stubborn, silent man, and perhaps...
She paused.
- Perhaps?
She placed two stones. Struck a spark. The fire caught.
- Perhaps a man I no longer want to flee.
He slowly raised his head.
The fire crackled between them.
He offered a bowl of warm water.
She took it wordlessly.
For a moment, their hands brushed.
A gentle burn.
And neither recoiled.
Scene 7: The Poem on the Edge
They sat at the cliff's edge.
Wind whispered softly. The sea slept.
Sylus stared at the horizon. Then spoke:
- I heard it in a dream. I don't know if it's an old poem... or a memory.
- Speak it.
He inhaled, and recited:
- I loved a woman who asked for nothing,
But whose gaze brought down the walls.
She was rain upon my scorched skin,
And I was fire beneath her closed lids.
But fire loves poorly.
Fire consumes.
Sérenya didn't reply.
She placed her hand on the warm rock.
And gently slid her fingers toward his.
Their palms did not meet.
But their shadows did.
- And if I don't want to be rain, Sylus? If I also want to be fire?
He stared at her. For the first time, without fear.
- Then let us burn together.
Scene 8: The Kiss That Isn't a Kiss
The wind rose.
Not strong, but enough to coax a strand from Sérenya's hair.
They were utterly alone.
No court. No whispers. No throne.
Just them.
She stood and approached him.
Her eyes sought something in his a permission, an anchor.
He didn't move.
But he didn't avert his gaze.
- Why do you never say what you feel?
- Because I never learned to feel without burning.
She placed her hand on his cheek.
He closed his eyes.
One step. Two.
Faces inches apart.
Breath against breath.
Their lips brushed, just a caress.
And in that breath, all they left unsaid.
A kiss? No.
A suspended prayer.
Then suddenly... a rumble.
Not within them.
In the sky.
The sea darkened.
The wind turned cutting.
Sérenya stepped back.
Sylus opened his eyes, dizzy.
- No... not now...
He pressed a hand to his temple.
Scene 9: The Sea Rises
He staggered.
Sérenya tried to catch him, but he fell to his knees, hands on the stone.
- They are here... I hear them...
His eyes rolled back. His body twisted.
- The sea! It holds them! It speaks to me! I don't want to listen!
Kamintha rushed forward.
- He's entering the vision... Hold him, Serenya. He must pass through fire.
- Sylus!
She wrapped him in her arms. He trembled. His skin burned.
He murmured in Comorian, in Malinke, in a tongue none understood.
- She is dead. She drowned.
- Who?
- My mother.
Then he screamed.
A shattering, inhuman cry.
And the sea... answered.
A massive wave, from nowhere, slammed into the rocks.
Kamintha recoiled.
He is bound. To her. To this sea.
Sérenya held him tighter.
- Then I will hold him here. Until the end.
He collapsed, unconscious.
His body against hers.
His breath slow. Skin damp with salt and sweat.
And Sérenya... did not cry.
She sang.
Softly. A Tsaravina lullaby.
"Tory, tory... tsy handeha intsony."
("Sleep, sleep... you will go nowhere.")
Scene 10: The Sunken Souls
Night fell again, but different.
Less harsh. Less dark.
A night full of ancient breaths, as if the stones themselves held their breath.
The fire crackled gently among the three of them.
Kamintha spoke, eyes on the sea, voice trembling. Her words unfolded like ancient cloth.
- They say beneath this sea lies a city. Sunken. Ancient. Older than kings.
Sérenya listened. So did Sylus.
- The Velema lived there. A people without walls, without steel, without crown. They ruled by memory. By song. By dream. And one day, the imperial kingdom drove them away.
- The sea took them? Sérenya murmured.
- No. They went willingly. Into the sea. On a moonless night. A thousand, they say.
A long silence.
Kamintha turned to Sylus.
- And they say since... they speak.
- To whom? he asked.
- To those who carry within them an ancient pain that does not belong to them.
She reached out, touched his temple gently.
- To you.
Sylus said nothing.
But his eyes glimmered.
- You think I am mad.
- I think you are possessed. And the Empire fears the possessed.
Sérenya draped a blanket around him.
- I am not afraid.
He turned toward her. A breath.
- Why not?
- Because I have seen the water. And it does not lie.
Later, alone, Sérenya approached the sea.
She whispered:
- Velema. If you are there... do not take his fire. Help him learn to use it.
And the sea... stirred softly.
Just once.
As if in answer.
Scene 11: The Wordless Vow
Dawn was blue.
Not gray, not gold.
Blue.
Like an ancient song.
Like a sea that has forgiven.
Sylus still slept, stretched on a mat beside the extinguished fire.
His face was calmer than Serenya had ever seen it.
He was no longer emperor.
Just a broken boy, healed by a night without walls.
Kamintha prayed softly nearby, palms turned toward the ocean.
Serenya walked on the beach.
Barefoot.
Her white dress slightly stained.
Eyes open as never before.
She picked up a flat stone, studied it.
Then a second.
She placed them side by side on a natural slab.
And murmured:
- I have no ring. No crown.
But I have seen your fire.
And I have chosen to stay.
She sat on the sand, closed her eyes.
Steps approached.
She did not move. She knew.
He sat beside her. No words.
His fingers brushed hers.
She did not pull away.
They remained like that. Five long minutes. Ten. Maybe more.
Their hands intertwined. Slowly. Naturally.
Without looking at one another.
Without speaking.
But knowing.
It was not a kiss.
Not a confession.
Not a declaration.
It was a vow.
The kind of promise you do not voice aloud,
Because the world would not know what to do with it.
- You will not flee me again.
- I will not chain you.
- Then let us walk together.
- Even in mud.
- Even through fire.
They stood.
And hand in hand, they began their return.
Scene 12: Return to Feulène
The journey home was silent.
But it was a full silence.
A silence filled with presence.
Not like that of the throne.
Nor that of salt.
It was a silence of companionship. Of intimacy born without effort.
Feulène appeared at last on the horizon.
Its dark towers, its frozen arches.
Its guards too rigid.
But this time... Serenya no longer felt the chill.
They passed through the main gates together.
Servants froze.
Nobles turned.
A murmur. Then a tremor.
- They returned together...
- He doesn't take his eyes off her...
In the imperial courtyard, Lady Mohaina waited.
Upright. Draped in black.
Her face as closed as a tomb.
A white bird circled above them.
Rare. Sacred. A snowy raven.
A symbol of ancient omens.
The bird descended slowly...
And alighted at Mohaina's feet.
She raised her gaze to Serenya.
Then to Sylus.
In a voice too soft, too gentle, she spoke:
- The sea has spoken to you.
- It listened to me, replied Sérenya.
- And what did it say?
- That I am alive. And no longer afraid.
Mohaina smiled. Slowly.
- Then it is time for me to speak as well.
Sylus stepped forward.
But Sérenya stopped him with a look.
- No. She is my shadow, not yours.
The old noblewoman inclined her head.
Then, with a fluid gesture, she extended a sealed scroll tied with a thread of ash.
- A summons. The High Council. Three days. You will answer.
- To what?
- The question all queens flee: do you wish to be loved... or obeyed?
And she turned on her heel.
The bird lifted off.
And the gentle war had just begun.
In the next chapter 6:
An anonymous note slipped under Sérenya's door at night.
A chilling message:
"What the sea gave you... the Palace will take away."
And a mysterious seal: an open eye within a teardrop of salt.