The white sand beaches that littered the shoreline around Efren’s temple were hot under her bare feet. Natalin stood, half-hidden in the lee of the grand structure, and stared out at her next problem. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe - the temple was filled with seers and worshippers, all charging here or there. She needed to go somewhere else. Being the Tideborn, that should be within her power.

So she’d thought. But the boats were all tied down, securely anchored to their slips. There had been a storm, the night before. She could remember it - now that she was looking at them. A grimace crossed her lips. She’d never be able to get one untied and free of the dock, not by herself, not before they caught her. Her eyes tightened as she stared at the hulls. So close, and yet so far.

A hand landed on her shoulder. She flinched, eyes snapping up.

The woman standing next to her chuckled softly. “I thought that was you. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m not- Gerd said I could.”

Natalin earned herself a hard stare for that one. The woman - Taran - just fixed her soft brown eyes on the young Tideborn, pressing a hand to her chin contemplatively. The blue seer’s cowl thrown around her shoulders fluttered gently with the motion.

“Really? Because I’m certain the steward just informed me that you were having a rest in your room before the night’s fun.”

Natalin swallowed hard, taking half a step back. The time-worn wood of the temple pressed against her shoulderblades. “Well...he did say I could,” she said stubbornly. “He just...might not know.”

“Oh, yes, I see,” Taran said, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes twinkled. Natalin exhaled slowly, letting a bit of the tension out.

Taran was one of the younger seers, and she’d always been more at ease around Efren’s Ascended than the others. It was hard to really claim any of them as friends, given the realities that stood between them. Being the water god’s chosen interpreter set her apart in ways that couldn’t be argued. Despite all that, Taran came as close to being Natalin’s friend as anyone.

The seer was still looking at her pensively. Natalin froze.

“Looking to go sailing?” Taran said, her voice carefully cheerful.

“W-Well, you know that I’m not really supposed to. I’ll just...head back inside. I just wanted to enjoy the ocean.”

“...Really?”

Natalin glanced up. The woman’s shoulders trembled, quivering with the force of holding in her laughter.

“Next time you try and lie, don’t look so sad while you do it,” she teased, tweaking the girl’s nose. “Those boats are too big for you by yourself, anyway. You’d never get it up to speed, and Gerd would spot you before you’d gotten a stone’s throw away. Wait here.”

Before Natalin could stop her, Taran turned on her heel, merging into the bustle and noise of the temple within moments.

She shrank back into the shadows further, biting off her complaints. Where was she going?

The answer presented itself moments later when the seer reemerged, striding back with confidence from the direction of one of the port’s sheds. She carried something under her arm, half-dragging against the sands.

A shock ran through Natalin’s veins as she eyed it, beginning to smile. She knew what that was - a vessel, little more than a board with gently curved sizes and the tiniest hint of a keel at the back to give it direction. It was just wide enough to kneel in - but no one ever did, she remembered. The seers used them to deliver messages or scout, those times when they needed to be quick and agile and travel alone.

“Here,” Taran said, only a little breathless as she thrust it at the Tideborn. “Give this a try. Launching cove’s that way. He won’t spot you there.”

It wasn’t as heavy as she would have thought. Natalin clutched it like a shield, her eyes wide. “Taran…”

“Knees bent, arms out. Keep your weight centered.” With one last pat on the shoulder, the seer turned back towards the temple. “I’d better get back. I’m supposed to have all the good statues put into storage before the Charred’s Vanguard arrives.” She rolled her eyes expressively. “Remi seems to think a hurricane’s coming. Suppose she’d know. Do try and stay out of trouble, Tideborn.”

Natalin raised her hand in a wave, still holding the sledge, but Taran was gone. She glanced down to the sand, taking in the shape of it with more than a little trepidation. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a good idea.

But the ocean beckoned.

The cold of the water was a harsh contrast to the warmth of the air as she slipped into the water. Natalin shivered, ducking her whole head under before she could change her mind. The frigid chill was like a slap to the face, crystallizing her thoughts. There. She’d done like Gerd said.

The sledge wasn’t quite as easy to manage as she’d hoped. She tumbled off it twice within minutes, losing her balance as the elegantly worked wood tilted underneath her. Floating in the calm waters of the cove, she eyed the temple apprehensively.

“Need help?”

She glanced up, still treading water, and eyed the looming form of the god. Efren was in good humor - as always - chuckling and shaking his head as he smirked down at his Tideborn.

He could help her, she knew. Normally, it was a burden for the Divines to appear in front of their followers. A miracle. It was different where she was concerned. He was an ever-present figure, waiting in the wings, and with his help, she’d have no trouble.

But Natalin scowled, taking hold of the sledge again. “No. I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing dangerously. Efren’s laughter grew. “Your choice.”

“Do you have to watch?” she said, her voice low. Her cheeks were burning.

“Isn’t every day I get to watch you making a fool of yourself. Don’t fault me for taking amusement where I can find it, girl.”

She didn’t bother responding, after that. She just pulled herself out of the water and onto the narrow craft, coming to a crouch. There was no post for a sail, and there was no way she’d be able to paddle like that. It was a seer’s craft, after all.

The water underneath her quivered in response. She could feel it, feel the way it moved as she let her mana seep out. It was hers. She held fast to that fact. It was Efren’s, which made it hers, and it would listen to her. The other seers could do this - it would be shameful if she couldn’t match them.

Push and pull. The water gave at the slow sweep of her hands, gathering and releasing. Waves lapped against the shore of the cove as she worked, building them higher. The cove filled with the smell of rain, her magic hard at work.

Her eyes flicked open as she released it, exhaling sharply. The butt of her sledge dipped dangerously, falling as the waves receded. Taran’s words rang in her mind. Arms out, knees bent, balance centered. It sounded so simple.

But even minding the advice she’d been given, she nearly tumbled off a third time as the boat bucked, shuddering under the force of the water plowing into it. Her arms pinwheeled as she yelped, desperately trying to keep her footing.

A hand slapped her shoulder, broad and warm and filling the air with the scent of saltwater as it swung in. She caught herself, digging in hard. Water sprayed from under the keel as she keyed her magic up.

And then she was off, suddenly level and stable and moving much faster than she’d expected. Fear lanced through her for a single moment. If she fell, it would hurt. It would hurt a lot.

Then don’t fall.

I’m not trying* to fall*, she hissed back. Efren chuckled. She could see his figure outlined in the spray that rose off her bow, his jacket of water droplets cascading back in the wind. She thought about telling him to leave, insisting that she didn’t need his help, but knew it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. He did as he liked. He wasn’t helping her right then, anyway.

Now that she was up and riding, the question remained - where to? The world stretched out in front of her, wide and open. There was only water as far as she could see, the blue of the ocean meeting the blue of the horizon in a misty, blurred line.

She wanted to see what it was like, to watch the temple vanish into the distance behind her. She wanted to see just how far she could go. But even in her state of excitement, she knew that wasn’t a good idea. She was on a deadline, and this was her first excursion. Besides, she’d heard the stories. There were raiders out on the sea, and pirates, and foreigners. If Gerd found out she’d done something like that, her punishment would be far worse than it already would be.

An island loomed, dead center in the bay where Aramoor was built. Efren had claimed it, she knew - the seers went there to meditate, to get separation from the merchants that ruled Ondria’s capital city. Even Gerd couldn’t really complain if she chose to escape there, given its sacred nature.

And yet, standing on its shores, she’d still be staring right back into the bridges and buildings she always did. It wasn’t enough.

If she couldn’t go out to sea and she couldn’t go to the bay’s mouth, that left her only a few options. She’d just see what she found - and she hadn’t gotten to see outside the city in her last excursion. A smile tugging at her lips, she turned, sending a spray of saltwater across the ocean’s surface, and accelerated up the shoreline.

Efren’s city was built on an estuary, springing forth where the rivers that formed the lifeblood of their people met the oceans that had given their god his very existence. Inlets blossomed here and there, twisting and turning their way towards the grand rivers further inland. Natalin picked the largest one she could find, putting the ocean at her back and sailing against the current.

The world stretched out before her.