The Sea Takes the Lower Houses
Ember woke to the sound of water lapping against stone.
She’d fallen asleep sitting up, her back against the cave wall, her sketchbook still open on her knees. The pencil had rolled out of her hand and lay in a puddle of saltwater that had crept in while she slept. She stared at it for a long moment, watching the ink bleed from the wood grain, before she understood what the sound meant.
The tide was inside the cave.
She scrambled to her feet, her joints screaming from the cold and the hard sleep. Kael was already awake, standing at the cave mouth, his silhouette framed by gray light. The water reached his ankles. It hadn’t been there when they’d crawled in last night.
“It’s not supposed to reach this high,” she said, her voice raw.
Kael didn’t turn around. “It’s not the tide.”
She splashed over to stand beside him. The cave opened onto a narrow ledge that overlooked the eastern shore of Thornwick. Below, where there should have been a strip of black sand and jagged rocks, there was only water. The sea had swallowed the beach entirely. The waves lapped at the base of the cliff, thirty feet higher than they’d been yesterday.
“The village,” she whispered.
She could see it from here—or what was left of it. The lower houses, the ones built closest to the waterline, were gone. Not damaged. Gone. The roofs of the upper cottages were still visible, but the sea had claimed the streets, the drying racks, the stone pier where the fishing boats tied up. The boats themselves were scattered like toys, some overturned, some floating in the middle of what used to be the village square.
Ember’s stomach turned. She’d grown up in one of those lower houses. Old Marta’s cottage, with the blue door and the wind chimes made of shells. The chimes were gone now. So was the door.
“She’s raising the sea,” Kael said. His voice was flat, empty. “She warned me. In the dreams. She said the water would rise until I came back.”
Ember grabbed his arm. His skin was cold, his tattoos dull and sluggish under her fingers. “Then we go back to the temple. We find the loophole. We—”
“There’s no time.” He turned to face her, and she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Not fear. Resignation. “The temple is underwater now. The Razor Teeth are submerged. You can’t dive that deep without equipment, and even if you could, the current would tear you apart.”
“Then we find another way.”
“Ember.” He said her name like it hurt him. “I’ve been remembering more. The night I left her. She told me what would happen if I ever tried to break the bond. She said the sea would take everything I loved, piece by piece, until I had nothing left to hold me to the land.”
“You don’t love Thornwick.”
“No.” He looked past her, toward the village. “But you do.”
The words hit her like a wave. She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept talking.
“I’ve been thinking about it all night. While you slept. I could walk into the water right now. Walk until I can’t touch the bottom. She’d take me back, and the sea would stop rising. Your village would survive.”
“And you’d be her prisoner forever.”
“I’ve been her prisoner for centuries.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “A few more decades won’t matter.”
“No.” Ember stepped between him and the water. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to sacrifice yourself because you think it’s the easy way out.”
“It’s not easy. It’s the opposite of easy.” His voice cracked. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m the one she wants. I’m the one who made the bargain. Why should your people pay for my mistake?”
“Because you’re not a mistake.” She grabbed his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re a person. You made a choice. A hard choice. You chose your family over a goddess. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“My family is dead.” He said it flatly, like he’d accepted it a long time ago. “They drowned. All of them. I watched from the shore as the wave took them. I couldn’t save them because I was already hers, and she wouldn’t let me.”
Ember’s hands dropped to her sides. She’d known, in a distant way, that his family was gone. The grove had told her that much. But hearing him say it—watching the words come out of his mouth like stones—made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.” He turned away from her, back toward the water. “I made my choice then. I’ll make it again now. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“No.”
She said it louder than she meant to. The word echoed off the cave walls, and Kael flinched.
“You’re good at other things,” she said. “You’re good at surviving. You’re good at remembering, even when it hurts. You’re good at—” She stopped, her throat tight. “You’re good at making me feel like I’m not alone.”
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and something shifted in his expression. The resignation cracked, just a little.
“I don’t want to go back to her,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know how to stay.”
“Then we figure it out together.” She took his hand. His fingers were cold, but they curled around hers. “We have until tomorrow. The elder said three days. That’s one more day to find the loophole.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we run.” She squeezed his hand. “We take a boat and we sail as far as we can. We find an island she doesn’t rule. We start over.”
“She rules all the islands. She’s the Tide Queen. The sea is her domain.”
“Then we find a mountain. A desert. Somewhere without water.”
He laughed—a short, broken sound. “You’d leave your island for me?”
“I’d leave everything for you.” The words came out before she could stop them, and she felt her face heat. “I mean—I’d leave. If I had to. For the right reasons.”
He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t let go of her hand either.
They stood at the cave mouth, watching the water rise, until the sun climbed high enough to burn through the fog. The light was thin and watery, but it was light. Ember took it as a good sign.
They climbed down from the cave, picking their way along the cliff face toward the village. The path was slick with spray, and more than once Ember’s foot slipped, sending pebbles skittering into the water below. Kael caught her elbow each time, steadying her without a word.
The village was worse up close.
The lower houses were rubble. The stone walls had collapsed under the weight of the water, and the wooden beams lay scattered like bones. The smell was terrible—salt and rot and something else, something metallic that Ember didn’t want to name. She stepped over a child’s doll, its cloth body soaked and heavy, and kept walking.
The survivors had gathered on the high ground, around the base of the lighthouse. Morwen stood at the center of them, her gray hair plastered to her skull, her face a mask of exhaustion and fury. When she saw Ember and Kael approaching, her eyes went hard.
“You,” she said. “You brought this.”
“I didn’t bring anything,” Ember said. “I’m trying to fix it.”
“Fix it?” Morwen’s voice rose. “Three people are dead. Three. Dain’s wife. Old Marta. The blacksmith’s boy. They drowned in their own homes because you refused to hand over the marked man.”
Ember felt the words like a punch to the chest. Old Marta. The woman with the blue door and the shell wind chimes. She’d taught Ember how to tie fishing knots when she was seven. She’d given her a piece of honeycomb every time she visited.
“I’m sorry,” Ember said. “I didn’t know the water would rise so fast.”
“You didn’t know?” Morwen stepped closer. Her hands were shaking. “I told you. I told you what would happen. I begged you. And you chose him over your own people.”
“I chose what was right.”
“Right?” Morwen laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “There is no right. There’s only survival. And you’ve doomed us all.”
The villagers murmured behind her. Ember saw the fear in their faces, the anger, the grief. They were looking at Kael like he was a monster. Like he’d drowned those people with his own hands.
“We have one day,” Ember said. “The elder said three days. That’s tomorrow. I’m going to find a way to break the curse.”
“There is no way,” Morwen said. “I’ve spent my whole life studying the old texts. The Tide Queen’s bargains are iron. They cannot be undone.”
“Then I’ll make a new bargain.”
“You’re a child. You’re nineteen years old. You’ve never even left this island. What could you possibly offer a goddess?”
Ember didn’t have an answer. She stood there, silent, while the villagers stared at her. Kael stood beside her, his hand brushing hers, a silent anchor.
“Take him to the Offering Rock,” Morwen said. “We’ll do it at sunset. If he goes willingly, maybe she’ll spare the rest of us.”
The villagers moved forward. Ember stepped in front of Kael, her arms spread wide.
“No.”
“Get out of the way, girl.”
“No.” She looked at each of them, one by one. “You want him? You go through me.”
Morwen’s face twisted. “You’d die for him?”
“Yes.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and final. The villagers hesitated. They knew her. They’d watched her grow up. They’d seen her draw in the sand, name the waves, talk to the gulls. She was one of them. And she was standing against them.
“Fine,” Morwen said. “Then you’ll both go to the rock.”
She gestured, and two men grabbed Ember’s arms. She struggled, but they were stronger. Kael fought too, but three more men pinned him, forcing his arms behind his back.
“Don’t hurt him,” Ember shouted. “Please. Don’t hurt him.”
Morwen walked up to Kael and looked him in the eye. “You should have drowned in that shipwreck.”
“I did,” Kael said. “A long time ago.”
They dragged them toward the cliff path. Ember twisted, trying to see the lighthouse, the village, the sea. The water had risen again. It lapped at the base of the lighthouse now, creeping up the stone steps.
The sea was taking Thornwick, piece by piece.
And Ember had one day to stop it.
She’d fallen asleep sitting up, her back against the cave wall, her sketchbook still open on her knees. The pencil had rolled out of her hand and lay in a puddle of saltwater that had crept in while she slept. She stared at it for a long moment, watching the ink bleed from the wood grain, before she understood what the sound meant.
The tide was inside the cave.
She scrambled to her feet, her joints screaming from the cold and the hard sleep. Kael was already awake, standing at the cave mouth, his silhouette framed by gray light. The water reached his ankles. It hadn’t been there when they’d crawled in last night.
“It’s not supposed to reach this high,” she said, her voice raw.
Kael didn’t turn around. “It’s not the tide.”
She splashed over to stand beside him. The cave opened onto a narrow ledge that overlooked the eastern shore of Thornwick. Below, where there should have been a strip of black sand and jagged rocks, there was only water. The sea had swallowed the beach entirely. The waves lapped at the base of the cliff, thirty feet higher than they’d been yesterday.
“The village,” she whispered.
She could see it from here—or what was left of it. The lower houses, the ones built closest to the waterline, were gone. Not damaged. Gone. The roofs of the upper cottages were still visible, but the sea had claimed the streets, the drying racks, the stone pier where the fishing boats tied up. The boats themselves were scattered like toys, some overturned, some floating in the middle of what used to be the village square.
Ember’s stomach turned. She’d grown up in one of those lower houses. Old Marta’s cottage, with the blue door and the wind chimes made of shells. The chimes were gone now. So was the door.
“She’s raising the sea,” Kael said. His voice was flat, empty. “She warned me. In the dreams. She said the water would rise until I came back.”
Ember grabbed his arm. His skin was cold, his tattoos dull and sluggish under her fingers. “Then we go back to the temple. We find the loophole. We—”
“There’s no time.” He turned to face her, and she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Not fear. Resignation. “The temple is underwater now. The Razor Teeth are submerged. You can’t dive that deep without equipment, and even if you could, the current would tear you apart.”
“Then we find another way.”
“Ember.” He said her name like it hurt him. “I’ve been remembering more. The night I left her. She told me what would happen if I ever tried to break the bond. She said the sea would take everything I loved, piece by piece, until I had nothing left to hold me to the land.”
“You don’t love Thornwick.”
“No.” He looked past her, toward the village. “But you do.”
The words hit her like a wave. She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept talking.
“I’ve been thinking about it all night. While you slept. I could walk into the water right now. Walk until I can’t touch the bottom. She’d take me back, and the sea would stop rising. Your village would survive.”
“And you’d be her prisoner forever.”
“I’ve been her prisoner for centuries.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “A few more decades won’t matter.”
“No.” Ember stepped between him and the water. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to sacrifice yourself because you think it’s the easy way out.”
“It’s not easy. It’s the opposite of easy.” His voice cracked. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m the one she wants. I’m the one who made the bargain. Why should your people pay for my mistake?”
“Because you’re not a mistake.” She grabbed his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re a person. You made a choice. A hard choice. You chose your family over a goddess. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“My family is dead.” He said it flatly, like he’d accepted it a long time ago. “They drowned. All of them. I watched from the shore as the wave took them. I couldn’t save them because I was already hers, and she wouldn’t let me.”
Ember’s hands dropped to her sides. She’d known, in a distant way, that his family was gone. The grove had told her that much. But hearing him say it—watching the words come out of his mouth like stones—made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.” He turned away from her, back toward the water. “I made my choice then. I’ll make it again now. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“No.”
She said it louder than she meant to. The word echoed off the cave walls, and Kael flinched.
“You’re good at other things,” she said. “You’re good at surviving. You’re good at remembering, even when it hurts. You’re good at—” She stopped, her throat tight. “You’re good at making me feel like I’m not alone.”
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and something shifted in his expression. The resignation cracked, just a little.
“I don’t want to go back to her,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know how to stay.”
“Then we figure it out together.” She took his hand. His fingers were cold, but they curled around hers. “We have until tomorrow. The elder said three days. That’s one more day to find the loophole.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we run.” She squeezed his hand. “We take a boat and we sail as far as we can. We find an island she doesn’t rule. We start over.”
“She rules all the islands. She’s the Tide Queen. The sea is her domain.”
“Then we find a mountain. A desert. Somewhere without water.”
He laughed—a short, broken sound. “You’d leave your island for me?”
“I’d leave everything for you.” The words came out before she could stop them, and she felt her face heat. “I mean—I’d leave. If I had to. For the right reasons.”
He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t let go of her hand either.
They stood at the cave mouth, watching the water rise, until the sun climbed high enough to burn through the fog. The light was thin and watery, but it was light. Ember took it as a good sign.
They climbed down from the cave, picking their way along the cliff face toward the village. The path was slick with spray, and more than once Ember’s foot slipped, sending pebbles skittering into the water below. Kael caught her elbow each time, steadying her without a word.
The village was worse up close.
The lower houses were rubble. The stone walls had collapsed under the weight of the water, and the wooden beams lay scattered like bones. The smell was terrible—salt and rot and something else, something metallic that Ember didn’t want to name. She stepped over a child’s doll, its cloth body soaked and heavy, and kept walking.
The survivors had gathered on the high ground, around the base of the lighthouse. Morwen stood at the center of them, her gray hair plastered to her skull, her face a mask of exhaustion and fury. When she saw Ember and Kael approaching, her eyes went hard.
“You,” she said. “You brought this.”
“I didn’t bring anything,” Ember said. “I’m trying to fix it.”
“Fix it?” Morwen’s voice rose. “Three people are dead. Three. Dain’s wife. Old Marta. The blacksmith’s boy. They drowned in their own homes because you refused to hand over the marked man.”
Ember felt the words like a punch to the chest. Old Marta. The woman with the blue door and the shell wind chimes. She’d taught Ember how to tie fishing knots when she was seven. She’d given her a piece of honeycomb every time she visited.
“I’m sorry,” Ember said. “I didn’t know the water would rise so fast.”
“You didn’t know?” Morwen stepped closer. Her hands were shaking. “I told you. I told you what would happen. I begged you. And you chose him over your own people.”
“I chose what was right.”
“Right?” Morwen laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “There is no right. There’s only survival. And you’ve doomed us all.”
The villagers murmured behind her. Ember saw the fear in their faces, the anger, the grief. They were looking at Kael like he was a monster. Like he’d drowned those people with his own hands.
“We have one day,” Ember said. “The elder said three days. That’s tomorrow. I’m going to find a way to break the curse.”
“There is no way,” Morwen said. “I’ve spent my whole life studying the old texts. The Tide Queen’s bargains are iron. They cannot be undone.”
“Then I’ll make a new bargain.”
“You’re a child. You’re nineteen years old. You’ve never even left this island. What could you possibly offer a goddess?”
Ember didn’t have an answer. She stood there, silent, while the villagers stared at her. Kael stood beside her, his hand brushing hers, a silent anchor.
“Take him to the Offering Rock,” Morwen said. “We’ll do it at sunset. If he goes willingly, maybe she’ll spare the rest of us.”
The villagers moved forward. Ember stepped in front of Kael, her arms spread wide.
“No.”
“Get out of the way, girl.”
“No.” She looked at each of them, one by one. “You want him? You go through me.”
Morwen’s face twisted. “You’d die for him?”
“Yes.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and final. The villagers hesitated. They knew her. They’d watched her grow up. They’d seen her draw in the sand, name the waves, talk to the gulls. She was one of them. And she was standing against them.
“Fine,” Morwen said. “Then you’ll both go to the rock.”
She gestured, and two men grabbed Ember’s arms. She struggled, but they were stronger. Kael fought too, but three more men pinned him, forcing his arms behind his back.
“Don’t hurt him,” Ember shouted. “Please. Don’t hurt him.”
Morwen walked up to Kael and looked him in the eye. “You should have drowned in that shipwreck.”
“I did,” Kael said. “A long time ago.”
They dragged them toward the cliff path. Ember twisted, trying to see the lighthouse, the village, the sea. The water had risen again. It lapped at the base of the lighthouse now, creeping up the stone steps.
The sea was taking Thornwick, piece by piece.
And Ember had one day to stop it.