Sunlight here was different. It filtered through a canopy of fishing nets strung between rooftops, casting dappled shadows that looked like rippling water. The air smelled of brine and charred wood, and the ground underfoot was always damp, as if the tide had just pulled back, leaving a film of seawater on the cobblestones.
"This way," Xiao Xu muttered, ducking under a low-hanging net. Her bare feet slapped against the wet stones, leaving faint prints that steamed slightly, as if her skin was too hot for the moisture.
I followed, my shoes squelching. The alley was a maze—shacks leaning into each other, their walls covered in peeling paint and strange symbols: spirals, waves, seedpods carved into wood. Every few steps, I passed a shrine: a small shelf holding bone china fragments, seashells, and what looked like dried seaweed braided into ropes.
"Who lives here?" I asked, my voice echoing.
"Us," Xiao Xu said, not looking back. "The descendants. The ones who didn't run when the sea started… asking."
A door creaked open. An old woman peeked out, her eyes milky, the same as the landlord's mother. When she saw Xiao Xu, she spat on the ground, muttering something in a language I didn't understand—sharp, guttural, like stones clicking.
Xiao Xu ignored her. "Don't mind Granny Mei. She thinks I'm a traitor. Thinks we should've let the Conch wake years ago."
"Wake to what?"
She stopped, turning to face me. Her eyes were dark, flecked with gold, like sunlight on water. "To the flood. The big one. The one that'll wash away the dry world and let the sea take back what's hers."
A child ran past, barefoot, chasing a crab that scuttled across the stones. When he saw us, he froze, his eyes widening. Then he pointed at my hand—the one with the silver sheen under the nails—and screamed, running back into a shack. The door slammed shut.
Xiao Xu sighed. "They can smell it on you. The Conch's mark."
We walked to the end of the alley, where the shacks gave way to a wooden pier, its planks warped and barnacle-encrusted. Beyond it, the sea stretched out, gray and choppy, the horizon blurred as if the sky and water had merged.
But it wasn't the sea that caught my eye. It was the statues.
They lined the pier, a dozen or more, all bone china, all life-sized. Men, women, children—their faces smooth, featureless, their arms outstretched toward the water. Each one was cracked, oozing that same red fluid as the Conch, and their eyes were hollow holes, filled with seaweed.
"Family," Xiao Xu said, her voice soft. "The ones who 'bound' the Conch. My great-grandfather, his brothers, their wives… they thought if they gave themselves to the porcelain, they could contain it. But it fed on them. Turned them into… this."
One statue, smaller than the others, looked like a girl—maybe Xiao Xu's age. Its hand was outstretched, fingers curled as if reaching for something.
I took a step closer. The red fluid oozing from its cracks was still wet, glistening in the weak sunlight.
"Don't touch it," Xiao Xu warned. "The porcelain remembers. It'll stick to you, start to merge."
I pulled back. "How do we stop it? The Conch, the… the deep thing it's connected to?"
She shook her head, sitting on the edge of the pier, her feet dangling above the water. "We don't. Not forever. My family's been fighting it for a century, and every time, it gets hungrier. The professor thought he could burn it, but you saw how that worked." She nodded at the kiln, hidden behind the shacks. "Fire slows it down, but it doesn't kill it. Nothing does. Not anymore."
A boat appeared on the horizon, small and weathered, its sails tattered. As it drew closer, I saw the figure at the helm—a man, his face obscured by a hood, but his hands… they were webbed, like the professor's.
Xiao Xu tensed. "That's Ma. He's one of the 'believers.' Thinks the deep should rise. Brings offerings to the Conch—bones, mostly. From the alley cats. Sometimes… other things."
The boat docked, and Ma jumped onto the pier, his boots squelching. He pulled back his hood, revealing a face half-covered in scales, silver and iridescent, his eyes milky.
"Xiao Xu," he said, his voice like gravel. "You've brought a guest. Good. The Conch's been asking for new blood."
He stared at me, and I felt that same cold, wet gaze I'd felt through the attic door.
"I don't want any part of this," I said, stepping back.
Ma laughed, a low, guttural sound. "No one ever does. But the deep chooses, not us. You touched it, didn't you? Felt its click?" He leaned in, the smell of salt and rot on his breath. "It's in your bones now. You'll feed it, or it'll eat you from the inside out."
Xiao Xu stood, grabbing a rusted harpoon from the pier. "Leave him alone, Ma. He doesn't know anything."
Ma's hand shot out, faster than I thought possible, and wrapped around her wrist. His scales glinted in the light. "Foolish girl. Your great-grandfather made a mistake, binding it. We should've freed it. Let the sea take back the drylands. Let everyone remember what it's like to drown."
From the direction of the kiln, a low, rumbling click echoed across the alley.
Ma smiled,露出 teeth filed to points. "See? It's calling. Come. We'll show you what happens when you resist."
He let go of Xiao Xu, turning toward the shacks. "Follow, or don't. But by nightfall, you'll be begging to feed it. They always do."
He walked away, his webbed feet leaving wet prints on the stones.
Xiao Xu watched him go, then turned to me. "We have to move. If Ma gets to the Conch before we do—"
A scream cut her off.
It came from the alley, high-pitched, a child's scream.
Xiao Xu cursed, running back toward the shacks. I followed, my heart pounding.
We rounded the corner to find a crowd gathered outside one of the shacks—the same one the child had run into earlier. Ma stood in the center, holding a small, struggling figure—the child, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"An offering," Ma said, his voice loud. "To speed the waking. The Conch likes the young ones. Their bones are softer."
The crowd murmured, some nodding, some looking away.
Xiao Xu raised the harpoon. "Let him go, Ma. This isn't right."
Ma laughed. "Right? What's right about keeping a god caged, Xiao Xu? What's right about forgetting the sea that birthed us?"
He started toward the kiln, the child kicking and screaming.
I looked at Xiao Xu. "We can't let him do this."
She nodded, her jaw set. "The Conch feeds on fear. If it gets that kid… it'll grow stronger. Strong enough to break the kiln's protection. Strong enough to wake her."
"Her? The mother?"
She met my eyes. "The deep itself. The thing that lives in the darkest part of the ocean, the thing that's older than the moon. Ma's right about one thing—she's not a god. She's a force. And when she wakes, the tides won't just rise. They'll consume."
The child screamed again, a sound that made my blood run cold.
I thought of the professor's notebook, of the tape recorder, of the eye in the jar staring up at me.
I thought of my attic, of the eviction notice, of $12.47 in my bank account. That life felt a million miles away.
"Let's go," I said, grabbing a splintered board from the ground.
Xiao Xu smiled, tight-lipped. "About time."
We ran toward Ma, the crowd parting as we approached.
Ma turned, his eyes narrowing. "Foolish. Both of you."
He lifted the child higher, and from the direction of the kiln, came a sound—a chorus of clicks, faster, hungrier, growing louder with each passing second.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Five.
The ground rumbled.
From the sea, a wave rose—tall, dark, frothing with whitecaps—heading straight for the pier.
Ma laughed, raising his arms. "She's waking! Can't you feel her?!"
The child's screams turned to sobs.
I charged, swinging the board as hard as I could.
It hit Ma in the back, splintering.
He roared, dropping the child, who ran to his mother, hiding behind her skirts.
Ma turned, his face contorted with rage, scales spreading across his cheeks.
"You'll regret that," he said, lunging at me.
I dodged, but he caught my arm, his webbed fingers digging into my skin. The scales burned, cold as ice.
From the kiln, a sixth click echoed.
Louder.
Brighter.
A red light pulsed from the shack, seeping through the cracks, casting the alley in a sickly glow.
Ma froze, his grip loosening. "She's here."
Xiao Xu drove the harpoon into his leg. He howled, releasing me.
"Run!" she yelled.
We ran, the red light growing brighter, the clicks deafening.
Behind us, Ma screamed.
Not in rage. In terror.
I didn't look back.