Emily woke slowly to the rhythmic sigh of the waves. The sun was already high on the horizon, warming the sand beneath her, though the sea breeze still carried a refreshing coolness. She stretched, feeling a satisfying ache in muscles pushed to their limit the previous day. Her body, adorned by little more than sand, tingled with nervous energy, anticipating the sunset meeting.
Dorian was already awake, sitting cross-legged near the smoldering remains of last night's fire, meticulously arranging seashells and dried seaweed stalks into complex, spiraling patterns in the sand, his brow was furrowed in concentration, though that didn't prevent him from sneaking a few glances in Emily's direction.
"Morning," Emily murmured, trying to remain casual as she reversed a stretch that was clearly requiring all of his willpower to look away from. "Any sign of..."
"No pirates," Dorian confirmed, his gaze sweeping the empty horizon before returning to his patterns. "Or monks."
Emily stood and demurely walked to the water's edge. The turquoise waves looked deceptively calm this morning, sparkling under the bright sun. Scanning the cliffs above, she could make out a few of the foot and hand holds she'd carved out of it. She dipped a toe in the water, shuddering at its cool touch.
"I have further preparations to make at the meeting site," Dorian said, his eyes mostly on the back of her head. "Thought I'd relight the Stoneshell fire while I'm there, so you can teleport to it. If you can light up this branch for me, I'll carry it up."
"Shouldn't I come too?" Emily asked, looking over her shoulder at Dorian, who was holding up a massive dead branch.
Dorian shook his head. "There's no sense in both of us climbing when you just can teleport up once I light the fire. Besides, you need to rest today. Better to rest here, in privacy, than under the hot sun on the clifftop, constantly watching for monks."
Emily had to agree. The cove was pleasant, with its freshwater seep and plenty of shady spots to rest in.
"Once I've made the preparations, there will be very little I can do during our meeting. It'll be your magic against Richard's." Dorian didn't quite make eye contact as he said this, as though he was ashamed of some admission of weakness.
Emily considered for a moment. "You're right," she said, summoning a fireball in her palm. "Heads up!"
The fireball shot out to Dorian's side, and he reached out to catch it with the length of wood. It ignited with an enormous whoosh. Dorian held it away, turning his head to avoid the sparks.
"Nice catch," Emily giggled.
Dorian saluted her with his free hand, before turning to scoop up his spellbreaking detritus. Emily spied a few small scraps of blue fabric among the shells and seaweed stalks and noticed that his loincloth was looking somewhat more threadbare this morning. It wasn't fair, how little fabric men needed to cover up the essentials.
"Tea's brewing," Dorian said, pointing at the contraption he'd rigged up to hold Emily's cup over the campfire. "Give me about an hour, then test whether you can teleport to the clifftop."
Emily nodded, though she didn't have a watch. Everyone in Thessolan seemed able to tell the time almost to the minute just by looking at the position of the sun, but it wasn't a skill she'd yet perfected.
Dorian waved and began his ascent, going slowly and keeping the Stoneshell flame aloft. Emily watched him until he was out of sight, then turned back to the ocean. She wondered where Caelum had gotten to.
As she watched the waves, a dark speck appeared further out, bobbing on the waves. A small boat, a simple fishing vessel with a single patched sail, was making its way slowly parallel to the coast. The shape of a person in the vessel was visible, but too far for Emily to make out in any detail. Hopefully, that meant they couldn't see Emily either.
Emily's dread of the approaching sunset encounter was made worse by the seeming inevitability that she'd be naked for it. If she spent the whole day gathering seaweed, she might be able to coax it into slimy and unstable coverings, but that would be destroyed as soon as she teleported, a power she would almost certainly use. Survival trumped modesty, especially given how poorly she'd been able to protect her modesty thus far. "It's nothing he hasn't seen before," she told herself, though that hardly made her feel better.
Out in the ocean, the fishing boat seemed to be rocking more than usual, the water around it churning unnaturally. It was not a storm swell, but a violent, localized disturbance, as if the sea had hiccuped. A whirlpool, small but vicious, seemed to open beneath the vessel.
Emily watched in horror as the boat tilted sharply, spun once, and then, with horrifying speed, was sucked beneath the waves. A piercing cry broke out through the still morning air.
A golden head bobbed to the surface where the boat had been, arms flailing wildly.
There was no conscious decision. Emily reacted purely on instinct, sprinting into the surf. She was a strong swimmer, and with the Stoneshell, had no fear of drowning. That was likely not the case for the person flailing in the wake of their capsized vessel.
Emily dove through the first line of breakers, the icy shock stealing her breath for only a moment before the Stoneshell kicked in and water filled her lungs like air.
The water was chaotic, pulling her in unexpected directions. The undertow felt wrong, erratic, not the steady pull of a natural tide but the frantic tugging of disrupted magic. She forced herself forward, powerful strokes cutting through the chop.
She dove deeper, the world shifting to muted blues and greens, the roar of the surface replaced by a muffled underwater thrum. She could see the struggling figure more clearly now--it was a woman, close to her own age, perhaps slightly younger, caught in the grip of the same vicious current that had sunk her boat. She had long blonde hair and wore a simple peasant's dress.
Emily surfaced near the girl, gasping, "Hold on! I'm here to help!"
The girl choked on seawater, her eyes wide with terror. Emily grabbed her arm. She seemed unaware of her savior, panicked and thrashing as if Emily was a malevolent force trying to drag her down rather than save her. "Calm down!" Emily shouted, trying to get a secure grip. "Breathe! I've got you!"
Fighting the relentless, unnatural current felt like swimming through invisible ropes. It pulled them sideways, then tried to suck them under. Emily kicked hard, towing the terrified girl, whose struggles were lessening now, replaced by a worrying limpness.
Though Emily could swim well on her own, she had never been a lifeguard, or needed to pull another person through the water. The girl seemed to be losing consciousness, becoming more of a dead weight by the second.
Throwing fireballs around wasn't going to help anyone, so Emily focused on the Bronzeband. Could she use its power to move the seabed? She'd only tried to manipulate stone and rock before, but was that really the limit of the Bronzeband's powers?
Emily stuck her head under the churning water and saw whirlwinds of swirling sand. She focused her will, picturing the grains of sand coming closer together, compacting, forming a shield behind her and the drowning girl.
It was a clumsy, desperate attempt, but before her eyes, the swirl of sand slowed and appeared to solidify, calming the waves just enough for her to pull the girl's head above water and keep it there.
Kicking with a sudden burst of strength, she finally felt the shallower slope beneath her feet. She dragged the girl forward until they could stand, waist-deep in the churning surf. To her relief, the girl managed to keep her footing. Emily wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her from the water.
Both of them collapsed on the sand, the girl coughing up seawater. Emily's own breath came in ragged gasps, her adrenaline fading to reveal deep fatigue. She'd done it--she'd saved the girl. In the water, without a single fireball, using the Bronzeband to control sand.
Down the beach, splintered pieces of wood that had once been the girl's boat washed ashore. Emily remembered Caelum's words about the sudden change in the waters. That whirlpool must have been a manifestation of the chaos that the Azure Sphere had held at bay. A knot of worry tightened in Emily's stomach. Richard's desperation for the Bronzeband was throwing this entire coast into chaos.
"Th-thank you," stammered the girl, once her coughing had subsided. She pushed wet blonde hair from her face. "You saved my life."
Emily managed a shaky smile, pulling herself into a sitting position. "Glad I could help," she managed, her voice hoarse. The girl mirrored her, unconsciously tugging at the hem of her soaked, simple dress, and a pang of envy, sharp and unexpected, lanced through Emily.
"The sea's gone mad," the girl whispered, staring out at the deceptively calm waves. "I've never seen anything like it. Mama warned me, she said she saw omens, but we'd been fighting so I went out anyway." Her face crumpled. "If you hadn't been here... I would have... I would have... ah!"
The fragile control broke, and the girl dissolved into anguished wailing, burying her face in her hands. "I'm sorry Mama! I should have listened! The boat is lost! How will we catch fish? My brother was right, girls can't handle the sea!"
Emily flinched inwardly. Comforting crying strangers wasn't exactly her forte. She awkwardly patted the girl's trembling shoulder. "There, there," she murmured, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Her own problems--the impending confrontation, the impossible choice about the Bronzeband, her own constant, humiliating nudity--felt miles away yet simultaneously pressed in on her. This girl's pain was immediate, tangible.
"It's not your fault," Emily said, trying for a firmer tone, needing to ground herself as much as the girl. "The magic here... it's disrupted. Because the Azure Sphere from the Abbey was stolen. No one could have avoided that whirlpool, man or woman."
