“So...Shiina. Not that I don’t appreciate the drink, and Efren, your temple is as lovely as always, but, well,” Rellan said, his voice light and even-tempered. “Was there a particular reason that you wanted to share our company today?”

He toyed with the glass between his hands, still smiling.

Her golden eyes rolled at the sound of his voice, as though his interruption were unwelcome. The girl sighed dramatically, casting a withering look his way, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her lips.

Rellan waited patiently. She’d reach the point eventually, after the usual blustering and dramatics. She always did - each of them was nothing if not predictable, in the end, and the fire goddess simply liked to put on a show. He could wait. They had all the time in the world, after all. And the drink was good.

“Oh? A reason? I couldn’t say,” she said, preening herself like a crow and reaching for her flask. “I’m sure there was something, but it’s simply slipped my mind.”

Solune chuckled, nose-down in his mug.

Efren slapped her back, hard enough to send her reeling forward. “Oh, has it, now?” He leaned over the table so that he was alongside her, chuckling.

She glared over at him, hands braced on the edge to keep from slamming into it.

His deep blue eyes twinkled right back. “Hmm. That’s troublesome. We’ll have to think of some way to jog your memory.” His hand was raised for another slap to her shoulder. She flicked him on the forehead before he could, sparks flying from the impact, and he fell back laughing.

“If my memory serves me, the last time you called one of these delightful ‘meetings’ - and invited my own charming self into your lovely home - Well, it was some years ago, wasn’t it?” Solune said, his silken voice conspiratorial as he leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. One hand stroked the smooth line of his jaw like it was covered in hair. “And if I recall, that little gathering was to announce the birth of your next Charred, was it not?”

“It has been a number of years, hasn’t it?” Rellan picked up where his brother left off, eyeing Solune contemplatively. Nodding his head as though having come to an understanding, he snapped his fingers. A burst of light accompanied the gesture, casting the table into momentary, sharp relief. “Could it be, cousin of mine, that your favorite child has finally come of age?”

Shiina smiled, a slow, triumphant expression. Smug satisfaction radiated from every pore of her body. “Why, Rellan. How astute.”

Her hands interlaced in front of her like an arch as she looked out at the rest of the group. “Yes, indeed. My Charred’s Ascension is complete, and he is now of age. Ready to use all that wonderful power in full, I think.” Her smile grew, proud and bright. “It has been too long since we’ve had a Presentation, wouldn’t you say?”

The crowds were thick around the perimeter of the temple. Natalin didn’t mind that - it gave her more of a chance to blend in and slip away. She needn’t have worried. Tucked into the rest of the faithful so tightly that she could hardly move, none of the Seers scattered around the temple district so much as saw her, let alone recognized their beloved Tideborn.

She echoed the phrase in her mind as it surfaced, apprehension-laden disgust accompanying the title. Favored hero of the gods, the Ascended of Efren. It was a blessing, they said. A boon from the Wavebinder, the Everdeep, Lord of the Waves - and so was she.

She’d never have known it from the way they kept her wrapped up so tightly in tasks and training, endless chores and memorization of ten thousand hymns, strangling the air from her until she could hardly breathe. The only time she was even as allowed to step outside of the temple into the city - her city, supposedly, hers and Efren’s - was on carefully structured outings, visits to the riverlord or the Council District or some other educationally relevant destination.

The riverlord wasn’t interesting. And neither was the Council District, filled with rich, arrogant citizens who openly stared at her wide-eyed and gaping. She’d begged again and again to be allowed to visit the rest of Aramoor, even for a single afternoon, but each attempt had been met with refusal. She was too busy with her lessons, or no one was available to escort her, or the city was too dangerous. They gave a vast array of excuses, but the answer was always the same.

Well, Natalin was tired of refusal. It was long past time to take matters into her own hands.

And now she danced lightly across the last bridge connecting the grand stilt-standing temple to the rest of the city, eyes wide. The whole of Aramoor lay out in front of her, waiting for her to find it. Every so often someone would jostle her, passing by in the rush of the crowd, and not one of them stopped to offer pale-faced apologies or beg her forgiveness.

It was wonderful.

Her mind raced. Where should she go first? She could go to the gates, and if she got there fast enough, she might even have time to go outside the city for a little while. Her skin prickled as she thought about how angry her advisors would be to hear of that little jaunt. The thought was enough to put an even wider smile on her face.

And yet, as Natalin pointed herself towards where the gates should be, assuming she’d read her stolen map correctly, she found herself lingering. Step by step, she wandered deeper into the heart of the city, not out towards the outside world. The noise and life of the crowd carried her in, and she followed happily.

Gerd called Aramoor the city of bridges, and he wasn’t wrong, she decided. The whole city was built onto the scattered islands and inlets of a vast river delta, buildings and homes constructed haphazardly wherever a square of halfway dry, stable land was found. The resulting mess was tied together with bridge after bridge, enough that despite the hours of training the old diviner made her suffer through, her calves were beginning to ache.

It didn’t matter, though. With the temple fading into the hazy shoreline behind her, she could finally see it. And hear it, with the din of voices raised echoing in her ear. The markets. If the wind was blowing the right way, sometimes they could smell the foods cooking there even inside the temple’s walls. And finally, she was looking right at it.

Here and there the girl spun, standing among the narrow, tight-pressed shops. There was so much there it had to offer - jewelry, hanging from vibrant, colorful displays. Bolts of cloth, laid out for a prospective customer to stroke or inspect. In the dark corners of the market lurked smaller, more unofficial stores, laid out with knives in quick-to-conceal canvas rolls.

And the food. The meals at the temple were beyond complaint, but they were simple, and invariably consisted of some form of fish. Natalin didn’t dislike fish. But after eating it every day for twelve years, she was beginning to find it a bit tiring. Her eyes feasted on the stalls she saw before her, dishes whose names she didn’t know and snacks she couldn’t begin to guess how to eat. She might not have been familiar with the foods, but her nose didn’t lie, and it was most certainly interested.

She fingered the pouch of coins tucked in her pocket with the tiniest flicker of guilt. Everyone at the temple was so trusting. They had no reason to suspect she’d do something like steal from the offering chest after the temple had closed for the night. They’d put their faith in her.

It wasn’t too late, she thought wistfully. She could turn around, be on her way, and drop the coins back into tonight’s collection. No one would ever know she’d done something as petty as steal.

Her scarf rustled gently as the wind turned, blowing in off the ocean. The smell of sea salt mixed with slow-roasting meats drifted towards her.

Well, just a little, then. The offerings were for her and Efren, after all.

If the shopkeeper noticed the few strands of ocean blue hair escaping from the scarf of the girl tossing coins at him, or recognized her striking blue-green eyes, he kept such observations to himself. But the portion of heavily spiced meat he handed over was more generous than strictly necessary, and there was a little more warmth pressed into his smile than for his other customers.

Natalin turned on her heel as she walked slowly, devouring the vendor’s food with abandon and picking her next target. Her eyes had fixed onto a sight barely visible over the buildings around her. The tall, delicately tapered points of masts, billowing with flags and color. The harbor.

Her feet were already moving, carrying her onward.

The Sanctuary had rapidly descended back into the near-raucous party their ‘meetings’ usually turned into. Shiina alternated between taking long draughts from her leather-wrapped bottle and blowing fire into the faces of whoever was nearest. Solune and Rellan kept her spinning, constantly twitching at the pale man’s flicked sparks of light or the endless stream of pebblestones the god of shadows seemed to have tucked into his pockets. Efren just sat back and roared with laughter at the irritated look on her face, his cheeks red.

“Now, Flameweaver,” Solune said, smirking as he sent a tiny stone sailing across the table. It connected with a dull thud, right in the center of her forehead, and she spat a fireball across the table to singe his eyebrows. “What’s the plan, dearest? At least tell me you’re stopping by our place before coming here.” His pale violet eyes danced as he pursed his lips, all his attention fixed on the feisty woman. She glared back at him.

That was the tradition - each of the Ascended would visit the city and Sanctuary of the other gods, when they were ready to take up their title and responsibilities. Ostensibly, it was so that each of the gods got a good look at the competition, and none of them could hide away their favored.

In reality, though, the Presentation had become little more than an excuse to drag out all of the citizens and throw a celebration with their rival nation. It was good for the citizens to become accustomed to the strange and powerful figures who would soon be running all over their country, after all, so none of the Four took issue with the way things had developed.

Shiina blocked Solune’s next projectile with a sweep of her hand, flames fanning out in its wake. Her beady gaze never faltered. “Fear not, Everdark. You will get your turn with the boy. In time.”

“Oh, I know it,” Solune said, his grin growing. “I just want to make sure I get my turn first, as befits a god of my stature.” As he finished, he sent another stone flying. Shiina brought her hand up with a snarl, but it vanished into darkness as it left his fingers. The goddess flinched, pressing a hand to the back of her head as it reemerged behind her for the strike.

“Try it again and I’ll roast you,” she warned, shaking a finger at the god of shadows with her free hand.

“Terrified, sweetling. Really,” the god said, chuckling as he leaned back. He raised his finger again, arching one eyebrow as Shiina raised a hand in warning. She jumped, squeaking, as a burst of golden sparks hit the back of her hand. She’d left herself open.

“Ash and flame, Everbright, if you try that again I’m going to come over there and-”

She spun to face him, rapidly descending to terms colorful and descriptive enough that even Efren drew back slightly. Rellan only grinned innocently, his chest shaking in silent laughter at the look of pure spite on her face.

“And what of you, my big friend?” Solune said, twisting in his seat to face the water god while Shiina laid into his brother. His mug sloshed, leaving him frowning at the stained sleeve of his embroidered blue tunic.

Efren raised an eyebrow, wordless.

The Everdark smirked. “You have your little one around here somewhere, right? Don’t think you can fool me. Wouldn’t she like to meet the rest of the family, while we’re here?” His finger waggled dangerously under the bare-chested god’s nose. “You’ve haven't hidden her from me, have you?”

Efren grinned, taking another swig from his bottle, but only shook his head. “Oh, you know. She’s around. Somewhere.”

Her eyes were wide and round as she stared up at the soaring masts, taking in the broad hulls and the bustle of activity. The harbor was somewhere she’d never even been allowed to dream of going, deemed far too rough for the girl and a waste of time besides.

Maybe it was a waste of time. Natalin didn’t care. She skittered up the winding shoreline road, dodging sailors and carts until she could step out onto the great, wide wharf.

Her parents had been sailors. That’s what she had been told, anyway, one of the only tidbits she'd been able to glean of her life before Efren claimed her. Fishermen, really, or they were, right up until they waited a little too long to return to harbor and were caught in the sights of a burgeoning storm. The story should have sent her shivering back to dry land, as far from the boats as she could get. It had exactly the opposite effect on her.

She’d been out on the water, of course. Being able to sail and control the waves properly was an essential lesson even for the mundane, non-Ascended seers of the temple, and she’d be a complete failure as Tideborn if she couldn’t keep up. But there was a difference between the little skiff Gerd sent her out on, doomed to endless laps up and down the shoreline, and these magnificent vessels.

What would it be like, Natalin wondered, to sail out so far that you couldn’t see land anymore? Where would you go? What else was out there, beyond their city? She smiled to herself, dreaming of distant islands and continents over the horizon.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that at first she didn’t notice the man at all. It wasn’t until he stumbled into her that she flinched, coming back to earth with a snap.

“Sorry- I’m sorry,” she said, staggering back half a step as he straightened. His cheeks were flushed as he glared down at her.

“Th-That’s it?” the man slurred, struggling to focus his eyes on the girl. “Seems like...kids u-used to have manners.” A thick, filthy finger was thrust under her nose.

Natalin drew back ever so slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. He had stumbled into her, not the other way around.

But she could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it was clear that he was one of the dockworkers from his stained brown uniform. The last thing she needed was to be caught out by picking a fight with a local.

And so she nodded, smiling sheepishly, and shoved all of the irritation somewhere he wouldn’t notice. “You’re right. Sorry about that. I’ll be more careful.”

Turning on her heel, she surged forward. The end of the pier was still so far off, and the sight of the open ocean behind the ships was calling her. She wanted to see.

The breath left her in a gasp as she was pulled back roughly. Her arm ached from the sudden tug, but she caught herself before she fell. She snapped her head back, eyes hard-set over her shoulder. It was the man, of course. He was scowling, apparently still not satisfied.

“I said, it seems like-” the drunk began, his hand wrapped around her wrist. He gave it another tug for emphasis, and just like that, years of training kicked to life.

His words died as Natalin stepped closer, sliding into his instep. He was already off-balance and staggering, leaving him just enough time to gasp.

And then he sailed through the air as she threw him into a nearby stack of crates.