CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5: THE WOMAN BY THE SHORE

Scene 13: Ayame Rivers

The gull hit the classroom window during the spelling test.

Thirty heads snapped toward the glass.

The bird slid down the pane, flapped once, and vanished below the frame.

A pencil rolled off someone’s desk.

“Miss Rivers,” Daniel whispered, “is it dead?”

I set my red pen down.

“No one moves.”

That guaranteed everyone moved.

Chairs scraped. Shoes thudded. Children crowded the windows before I reached the front row.

“Back to your seats.”

“But it crashed.”

“It could be injured.”

“It might have bird flu.”

“Daniel, you said it was dead.”

“I changed my mind.”

I pressed two fingers to my temple.

The headache had begun before sunrise, a quiet pressure behind my eyes. Now it pulsed in time with the waves beyond the school grounds.

The sea was half a kilometre away, hidden behind low houses and a line of wind-bent trees. I should not have heard it from inside the classroom.

But I did.

One heavy crash.

A pause.

Another.

The windows trembled.

The children fell silent.

A dark shadow swept across the classroom floor.

I looked up.

Dozens of gulls circled above the school.

They turned together, white wings flashing against the grey sky, then flew inland.

Away from the water.

“That’s weird,” Daniel said.

For once, I had nothing to add.

I crossed to the door and opened it.

Cold wind rushed inside, carrying salt and the sharp smell of rain. The corridor lights flickered. Somewhere in the building, a teacher called for everyone to remain calm.

A small hand slipped into mine.

Mina stood beside me, her braids tied with yellow ribbons. “Miss Rivers?”

“Yes?”

“Your hand is cold.”

I looked down.

Water glistened across my palm.

Not sweat.

A thin stream ran from the centre of my hand to my wrist.

I rubbed it against my skirt.

The skin beneath it burned.

The school bell rang.

Not the normal end-of-lesson bell.

Three short blasts.

Emergency assembly.

The children began talking at once.

“Bags under your desks,” I said. “Line up quietly.”

They obeyed badly, but they obeyed.

I counted them twice before leading them into the corridor.

The other classes joined us. Teachers guided students toward the central hall, away from the outer windows. The deputy head stood at the stairwell, holding a radio close to her ear.

“What happened?” I asked.

She lowered the radio. “The coastguard issued a warning.”

“For a storm?”

“They won’t say.”

The building shook.

A deep sound rolled beneath the floor.

Not thunder.

It came from below us.

Several children screamed.

I turned toward the windows at the end of the corridor.

The sea had risen above the rooftops.

Not a wave.

A vertical wall of dark water stood against the horizon, impossibly high and perfectly still.

My lungs stopped working.

Something moved inside it.

A shape too large to be a ship.

The lights went out.

Children cried around me.

I crouched and pulled the nearest two close.

“Listen to my voice. Stay together.”

My own voice sounded far away.

The wall of water dropped.

It crashed back into the ocean without reaching the city.

The building rocked once more, then settled.

Emergency lights blinked on.

The deputy head stared through the window.

“What was that?”

No one answered.

A phone began vibrating in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

Kiyomi.

I answered immediately.

“Where are you?”

“At the cottage.”

Her voice shook beneath the sound of rattling windows. “The pipes exploded.”

“What?”

“Not exploded exactly. The taps turned on by themselves. Every tap. The water is black, Ayame.”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“Get out of the house.”

“I tried.”

“Kiyomi.”

“The front door won’t open.”

I pushed through the crowd toward the stairs.

“Use the kitchen window.”

“It’s stuck.”

“Break it.”

“With what?”

“Anything heavy.”

A whisper entered the call.

Soft.

Wet.

Female.

Come home.

I stopped moving.

“Ayame?” Kiyomi said. “Did you hear that?”

The line filled with static.

Then a man’s voice spoke close to the phone.

Bring her to the shore.

The call ended.

Scene 14: The Pull of the Sea

I left the school before anyone could stop me.

Rain began halfway across the car park.

It fell in cold, slanting sheets, blurring the road and turning the afternoon sky almost black. My tyres hissed over flooded streets as I drove toward the coast.

Kiyomi did not answer again.

I called six times.

On the seventh, the call went directly to voicemail.

“Come on.”

I struck the steering wheel with my palm.

The ache beneath my skin flared.

A pale golden line appeared across my wrist.

I nearly drove into the next lane.

The mark vanished when I looked at it directly.

A horn blasted behind me.

I corrected the car and pressed harder on the accelerator.

Traffic thickened near the waterfront. Police vehicles blocked the main coastal road. Officers directed cars inland while people stood beneath umbrellas, filming the sea.

I pulled into a side street and abandoned the car beside a closed pharmacy.

The wind nearly knocked me down when I opened the door.

Salt stung my lips.

Rain soaked through my blouse before I reached the pavement.

An officer raised one hand. “The coast is closed.”

“My sister is trapped in a house beyond the barrier.”

“Which street?”

“Mariner’s Row.”

His expression changed. “You cannot go there.”

“She is alone.”

“We have a rescue team moving in.”

“When?”

He glanced toward the sea.

That was answer enough.

I ducked beneath the tape.

He caught my arm.

“Miss, stop.”

I twisted free. “You can arrest me after I get her out.”

I ran.

The streets near the shore were empty.

Car alarms wailed beneath the rain. Shop signs swung above locked doors. Water flowed uphill along the gutters, streaming toward the ocean instead of away from it.

My shoes slipped on the pavement.

The closer I came to the cottage, the stronger the pressure behind my ribs became.

Not pain.

A pull.

Something inside me leaned toward the sea.

Turn left.

The thought did not sound like mine.

I stopped at the end of the lane.

The cottage stood to my right, three houses away.

The shore waited to my left.

Come to me.

I turned right.

The wind shoved against my back as though trying to spin me around.

“Kiyomi!”

I reached the cottage gate.

It hung open.

The front door stood wide.

Water poured down the steps.

“Kiyomi?”

I ran inside.

The sitting room was empty.

Cushions floated against the ceiling. Framed photographs drifted face down in black water. My grandmother’s old clock ticked from the wall even though the water had reached its base.

“Kiyomi!”

No answer.

I pushed into the kitchen.

Every tap ran.

Black water filled the sink and spilled across the counters. Letters formed on the fogged window above it.

SHORE

I stepped back.

The letters dissolved.

Something knocked beneath the floorboards.

Three slow blows.

I grabbed a chair and held it in front of me.

“Kiyomi?”

The floor answered with another knock.

Then her voice came from outside.

“Ayame!”

I dropped the chair and rushed through the back door.

Kiyomi stood in the garden barefoot, soaked to the skin, her brown curls plastered to her cheeks. She stared beyond the fence toward the cliffs.

I pulled her into my arms.

She did not hug me back.

“Kiyomi.”

Her body felt rigid.

I turned her face toward mine.

Her eyes were open too wide.

“Are you hurt?”

“She came for you.”

“Who?”

“The woman in the water.”

A flash of lightning split the sky.

For a second, a figure stood on the cliff path behind her.

Long white dress.

Black hair moving in the wind.

I blinked.

The path was empty.

Kiyomi grabbed my wrists. “Don’t go to the shore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“You’re already listening.”

The pressure inside my chest tightened.

The sea crashed against the cliffs.

A voice rose beneath it.

Ayame.

My name travelled through stone, rain, and bone.

Kiyomi’s fingers slipped from my arms.

Her face went pale.

“You heard it.”

I could not answer.

The back gate swung open on its own.

Beyond it, the narrow path led down toward the beach.

Golden light flickered beneath the skin of my palm.

Kiyomi stepped in front of me. “Stay here.”

The sea called again.

Not louder.

Closer.

My feet moved before I gave them permission.

Scene 15: The Message in the Water

Kiyomi followed me to the cliff path.

She argued the entire way.

I barely heard her.

The storm had swallowed every other sound except the sea.

It breathed below us, drawing back across the rocks with a long hiss before striking the shore again. Wind tore branches from the trees and threw them across the path. Rain ran into my eyes.

Still, I kept walking.

“Ayame, stop.”

Kiyomi caught my hand.

The golden mark flashed between our fingers.

She cried out and released me.

A bright line ran across my palm, curving like a wave around a small crown.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is not a real answer.”

“It is the only one I have.”

We reached the final bend.

The beach stretched below us, dark and empty.

The tide had pulled far beyond the normal shoreline.

Hundreds of metres of wet sand lay exposed beneath the storm. Fish twisted in shallow pools. Pieces of stone rose from the seabed in long, straight rows.

Not rocks.

Ruins.

Kiyomi moved closer to me. “Those were not there yesterday.”

Lightning flashed again.

A road appeared beneath the retreating water.

It led from the beach into the ocean.

At the end of it stood an archway covered in blue symbols.

The same symbols burned across my palm.

My knees weakened.

The world shifted.

For a breath, the beach vanished.

Torches burned along marble steps. Silver banners snapped above a crowd. A man stood waiting at the foot of a throne.

Tall.

Dark hair.

Steel-blue eyes.

He held out his hand.

Come back to me.

The beach returned.

I staggered.

Kiyomi caught my elbow. “What did you see?”

“A man.”

Her mouth tightened. “Of course it was a man.”

I stared at her.

“What? Strange voices, secret ruins, glowing skin. There was always going to be a handsome man somewhere.”

Despite everything, a breath of laughter escaped me.

The sea answered.

A wave rose beyond the ruins.

It did not break.

It travelled toward us in a smooth wall, curling around the stone road without covering it.

Kiyomi’s humor vanished.

“We should run.”

I could not move.

The wave stopped at the edge of the beach.

Water stretched upward twice my height, clear as glass.

A woman appeared inside it.

She had my face.

Not similar.

Mine.

Her hair floated around a silver crown. A white gown drifted around her body. Blood stained the fabric over her heart.

Kiyomi made a broken sound beside me.

The woman pressed her palm against the wall of water.

My mark burned.

I raised my hand.

“Ayame, don’t touch it.”

The woman’s golden eyes filled with tears.

Her lips moved.

He remembers.

My fingertips met the water.

Cold struck through my body.

The storm disappeared.

I stood beneath an endless ocean.

A palace burned below me, blue flames crawling through shattered towers. Bodies floated over the ruined streets. A massive silver wolf fought among them, glowing markings blazing across its fur.

A man knelt in chains inside a throne room.

The same man from my vision.

He lifted his face.

Raiken.

The name entered me like a remembered heartbeat.

A dark figure stood behind him with a blade.

I tried to scream a warning.

No sound came.

The vision changed.

The man reached for me through black water.

His fingers caught mine.

Then slipped away.

Grief tore through my chest so violently that I doubled over.

I fell onto wet sand.

Kiyomi knelt beside me, shaking my shoulders.

“Ayame. Open your eyes.”

I forced air into my lungs.

The sea had returned to its normal place.

The ruins were gone.

The beach was empty except for a single object lying beside my hand.

A silver ring.

It was shaped like two wolves circling a blue stone.

I picked it up.

The metal warmed against my skin.

Letters appeared across the wet sand in front of us.

THE KING HAS REMEMBERED

Kiyomi stared at the words.

A second line formed beneath them.

OROCHI HAS TOO

The tide rushed forward.

It erased the message and stopped at my knees.

Something sharp closed around my ankle beneath the water.

I looked down.

A pale hand held me from below.