Tempest Bound: The Fisherman's Lure

Chapter 17:A Bond Forged in Waves

The sea around them seemed still, as if the depths themselves were breathing. Seraphine felt the expectancy thick in the water, a heavy but exciting presence that seemed to match her pulse. Amara called her nearer with calm, polite gestures and a melancholy knowledge that gave Seraphine thrills of both horror and excitement.

Her voice little more than a whisper, Amara replied, "The deeper magics of the river are not something that can be seen or touched. They lay under the waves and under the surface of knowledge. They are sensed, welcomed, let to sink into your own bones.

Seraphine ate her words and nodded. She felt the weight of what was to come, an unsaid promise lurking about. Though it was a ritual, it was also a test—a way for her to establish her worthiness, thus honoring the ocean she was prepared to carry the legacy of those who came before her.

Rowan was close by, watching with a restrained intensity, his face covered. His eyes showed knowledge of the custom hinting secrets he had not yet divulged. Now, though, was not the time to ask, not while she was perched on the brink of what appeared both old and huge.

Amara closed her eyes, extended her hands, spoke in a rich, lovely voice in a language Seraphine did not know. Like the weird and unpredictable tide, the words had a pulse that connected in her bones. Her senses sharpening as the water seemed to respond to Amara's cry, she felt herself dragged into the sound and her mind calm.

Whispering, "This is the language of the deep," Amara said opened her eyes to reflect Seraphine's. "This is a technique of building a relationship with the ancient souls linked to the will of the ocean, the spirits protecting the Coral Crown. Using this language, we will build a portal—a conduit into the past—that will let the memories to surface at these depths.

Her pulse quickened and her lungs gripped when Amara grasped her hands and guided Seraphine into a circle cut out on the sand under them. She sensed the liveliness pulsing under her feet, a steady, powerful force that seemed to identify her as though she were an old acquaintance.

"Close your eyes, Seraphine," Amara advised, her voice kind yet forceful. "Let the sea guide you." Let its memories slide through you, into your heart, soul, mind. Let its attraction suck you in and support your sinking down with it.

Following with closed eyelids and a deep breath allowing her to delve into the experience was Seraphine. She felt cold, heavy water pushing on her shutting out all thought and sound and overloading her senses. She appeared to be sinking into the water and blending into its vast, unbounded depths.

Images began to slowly show her, flickering like feeble shadows on the verge of consciousness. She sees a time long past, fragments of life claimed by the water, each one indelibly changing the memory of the ocean. < But one guy caught out among the fog as more brilliant and transparent than the others.

Right now is her father here.

Tight on his face, his eyes glowed with both fear and will. He was standing on a ship deck. She could see the emblem on his ankle, barely glowing ghostly light on his skin. Though he seemed younger than she remembered, his eyes showed a gloom that implied years of searching, fighting, longing.

"Why did you stop here?" She listened to him talk, his voice soft and burdened with an ache she could not really understand. "Why must you carry on in my footsteps?"

Seraphine felt a flash of feeling and her heart hammered as she reached out her fingertips brushing the edge of his form. Knowing he couldn't hear her, she said, "I had to." I wanted to hold on to To know your leaving and the reason behind your danger of everything.

He gazed straight at her, softened and seemed to hear her; his eyes were mixed with love and loss. "I kept you safe, Seraphine. I thought I could find the answers, the secrets of the river, and then come back to you. Still, I was errant. I never knew the cost—that which the Crown requests.

The image altered and she saw the Sunken Citadel rising darkly behind him as he stood at the entrance of a big, old edifice. Not alone; figures surrounded him, ethereal and silent, their forms twisted and bound by the might of the ocean.

One of the people came closer; a woman with pale, depressed eyes fixed on Seraphine's father with a strange, almost sympathetic glance. "You cannot pass," she said, her voice soft but with a finality denying any chance for discussion. "The ocean is claiming you." You will be tied to its bottom. You are not sailing out from these waters.

Father of Seraphine tightened his grip; his face twisted with despair and anguish. "I have to go back," he remarked with a strained yet expressive voice. "I have a daughter and cannot abandon the life I lead. Please; I search only for the Crown—that of the truth.

The woman's face became old, her eyes softened. "One that not everyone is ready to pay; the truth costs something." The Crown is more than just a tool, a thing. It is a connection—a pact with the sea—one that cannot be broken.

Her emotions split between her love for her father and her need to discover the secrets that had brought him to this position as Seraphine watched her father struggle. She started to grow depressed. She understood then, in a way she had not before, that his road was one of sacrifice—a decision chosen out of love and a yearning to shelter her from the risks of the future—not of ambition or fortune.

The image altered once more and she saw her father standing by alone, his face quiet, his eyes far-off as he vowed one last oath, his voice resounding across the water. "Let her continue my legacy should I be unable to come back. Let her journey be hers alone, free from my errors, my failings. She should be left to travel just on her own road.

Her heart weighed thanks and sorrow, and as the image darkened Seraphine felt a tear drop down her face. Driven by a love that cut over life and death, her father had given all for her, overcoming obstacles she could not start to comprehend. She now understood the real reason she was traveling—the legacy she carried was one of love and sacrifice, a link formed amid the fiercest currents of the ocean, not of power or conquest.

She opened her eyes, blinking as the water came back into focus; the energy of the ceremony disappeared, leaving just amazing clarity and direction. Amara watched her; her eyes seemed to reflect as though she had seen the vision too. She understood the weight of what Seraphine had gone through.

"You carry his legacy now," Amara stated gently but with tremendous dignity. "Remember, though; you own this road. He makes mistakes; you are not constrained by his choices. You are free to create road plan and legacy for yourself.

Rowan gently laid a soothing hand on her shoulder; his face carried controlled pride. "Your will is stronger than his, Seraphine. You provide a clear objective he never had. And for this reason you will succeed where he might not have.

Not as a weight but rather as a reminder of the love that had driven her father toward his destiny. Seraphine nodded, weight of his legacy falling over her. She would not let his memories define her even though she would keep them and honor him. She would boldly, strongly, knowing this road— hers—that he had given her.

As they left the circle of the ritual, the water seemed to change—becoming colder, darker, as if responding to the repressed emotions. Rowan stopped talking, his gaze far-off, his face tinged with an unspoken grief that pinged inquiry through Seraphine.

She could feel a weight building between them as though he had not yet revealed, as though there were secrets hidden under the surface. The Guardian had presented her with a peek of his background, but there was considerably more, far more just waiting to be unearthed.

Amara looked at Rowan, her face unreadable. "You haven't told her some things," she said softly, her voice slanted with both sympathy and anger. " Facts buried, under the surface of your past."

Rowan's eyes locked with a mix of vulnerability and will, his jaw tightened. "You are deserving of information if we are to continue. About my past and the weight I carry as well as the reason I left my domain.