I reflected on what I’d just thought and felt, sitting under an olive tree in the rain.

To think I had quickly become so terrified of something that was omnipresent, such an integral part of my life. Days as a child were spent playing in the surf, collecting seaglass, turning up rocks for hidden crabs, traipsing along the rocky coastline. Sailing with my dad, when he came back to the island during school breaks and the summer. Helping my mom and the guys on her ship bring up lobster pots and measure our hauls…

Of course, I was well aware that the water itself, and many of the creatures in it, could easily kill. But I knew the risks, and how to avoid the dangers.

Not so, now. Too many variables, too much conjecture, an unbelievable and insanely terrifying shift from everything I thought I’d known.

The way it sunk in made me remember a story I had told to my brand-new college friends. A few summers ago, my dad’s old watch fell off right as he was reaching over with the boat hook to snag our buoy. One of the boat’s stays had rubbed against the watch’s fraying strap. Plunk, it went, right into the drink.

The Thorofare’s water wasn’t deep, but was ice cold and murky. My dad hadn’t been in much condition at the time to go swimming, especially in waters like that, so I had stripped down, slapped on goggles, gritted my teeth, and jumped. Finding the damn thing didn’t take too long, at least. I had sharp eyes, and the current wasn’t strong. When I finally got back on deck, my usually tanned skin was pale, and I was violently shivering, but grinning like mad nonetheless.

I considered how they reacted. Some scoffed and thought I was a stubborn weirdo idiot, one perhaps was impressed, others commented that they would’ve been too afraid to do the same. Just that it wasn’t worth it, and why the hell would you do that for a watch which wasn’t so important anyway? (It wasn’t anything of a family heirloom.)

Even though we were in Rhode Island, none of them had ever really been at sea. All six were from different states, or even countries. I was sharing what I thought was a short, somewhat amusing story with a happy ending, but was left confused, almost embarrassed. I knew I’d grown up sheltered, in a very different place, but actually experiencing the disconnect among peers was what made its existence truly hit home.

And I had thought the shock of going from a rather remote Maine isle to an Ivy college was bad enough! Being where my dad taught, I had a good bit of information, though it was never as effective as the experience.

But now. Now, in an entirely different world, I believed I understood what made the fear of the ocean, the unknown, so powerful.

However. I had new and mysterious things, literal magic, on my side, too.

Gathering up scraps of willpower, I forced myself to feel more confident–not only would I get through this in one piece, I’d make the absolute best of it!

The summertime rainstorm continued on into early afternoon. Thoughts grasped firmly in hand, I set about doing a methodical inspection of the magic… thing. After I had finished cooking (rather terribly) and eating the clams, that is.

That spirit was what unlocked it, so why not call it the same word? Sounded mystical enough, for now.

One of the most immediately bizarre things I had noticed a while ago, upon learning to use the flame, was the panels’ color coding.

The panel of the biggest tetrahedron, which was about the size of a fat watermelon, had two short lines in that obnoxious glowing blue. The first, which I knew to represent the flame, was actually incised very lightly into the surface. However, the second ability was not, simply glowing above it.

Was that a signifier of progress, or total duration used? Experience, maybe?

Rotating it right to the next face with ease, I observed that the panel had three separate text lines in non-glowing dark blue. They were all deeply incised. The writing's aesthetic reminded me of Ancient Maya in the way each miniature cartouche-like form was squished together. It made me smile, thinking of my dad's studies and his ancestry, despite it the similarities being a coincedence.

I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus on the meaning of a single part of a glyph in the third line. It was incredibly familiar–the exact same feeling of a gift that the shrine spirit had emanated.

Some form of connection was produced, my mind instantly grasping onto words that could represent the concept. A gift, in this case. It was much like the feeling of connections made as the spirit was making me learn a language. Not only between spoken words, but written ones too. I suspected that decoding and interpreting would be far harder if I wasn't both literate and familiar with different ways of constructing written languages.

Pressing on, I was certain that the next was something along the lines of divinity… reverence, power. It was accompanied by a star-like logogram, looking entirely alien from the writing surrounding it. The pieces immediately fit together in my mind. It was referring to a gift, a blessing, really, given by the god Enşe, the one who the shrine was dedicated to. Once I envisioned the words and assigned parts to each section of glyph as a syllabary, I could suddenly read it far more easily.

Belatedly, I realized the star logogram was actually in Iralic, the shrine spirit's language... and also that of the god who supposedly gave a gift to me. Proof of an outside influence.

Next in the line was simply a wide, empty oval, its meaning clear. A big, open space, bringing to mind the word 'expansion'. Then two small overlapped triangles, a pictograph of my own spirit. It wasn't an 'expansion' as in an increase of power or strength. It seemed… very literal.

I rotated it again, and looked at the single fully exposed face of the smallest tetrahedron. Most of its form was merged with the largest one. On its left edge were odd unnatural bits of bronze-like metal which looked to have been welded there. They lacked the greenish patina the rest of my spirit had.

Upon experimentally giving it a poke, a door swung open!

Cautiously peering inside, it was a rich bronzed brown-orange, and looked exactly like what you’d expect based on the shape of its exterior. Judging by the interior’s size, the walls were half an inch thick.

With nary a thought in my mind, I stuck in my hand, followed by my forearm, and then all the way up to my shoulder! It appeared strangely minimized, like the appendage had gone through a concave lens. Instantly removing it, I briefly stared at my arm, and then the spirit, then back to my arm, utterly stupefied.

Into the compartment went three pebbles, and they just hung there, in stasis. After a brief consideration of the consequences, I swung the door shut and de-summoned my spirit. Then, it was immediately re-summoned. Opening it, I was happy to see the stones still there, fully intact. Reaching inside, I couldn’t immediately touch one at first, but was able to remove them once I focused.

Yes! I collapsed backwards in relief and elation against the tree’s rough, gnarled trunk. More testing was needed, but being able to safely carry items was a huge boon already.

Not having a slightest clue about its mechanisms other than ‘it’s magic’ made me shift in discomfort, but that wasn’t going to stop me in the slightest from putting it to good use.

Whether gods truly exist here or not… well, thank you, Enşe.

The next hour was spent deciphering all of the two panels’ blue-coded inscriptions. The glowing ones, which I mentally labeled arts, went like so:

Arts–

Child’s Flame

Sifting of Salt Waves

And the boons–

Island-Born

Ardent Linguist

Gift of Enşe

Sifting of Salt Waves simply removed undesirable particulates and impurities from water. I was pretty sure that I could tweak and bend it a bit to separate out pure salt, too.

It was the boon Island-Born that had been helping me so much with survival, and comprised a complex slew of benefits. When on an island or near the sea, I didn’t need as much food or water, and was resistant to harsh temperatures and environments. Additionally, it made me less likely to get infections or disease.

Ardent Linguist bestowed improved general memory, especially recall and retention of new languages.

Of course, the third was the new storage compartment’s origin. It noted an expansion, specifically, and not bestowal of a new ability, and I concluded that other people who used magic likely had a variant of it.

So, in essence, doing magic is conjuring a form that’s a physical representation of my… being? spirit? soul? Which enables me, or others, to make additions and possibly modifications. The third boon was given, but I was nearly sure the other two had been acquired, for lack of a better term, ‘naturally’, from my own life experiences.

Maybe getting one or not had a random element, since even though I liked learning languages, it was certainly not what I was the most passionate about.

Overall, I didn’t have enough facts to build a solid opinion on the matter of it possibly being my soul. ‘Vaguely uncomfortable’ sounded about right, though.

Glyphs covering one of the two fully visible panels on the mid-sized tetrahedron were that same yellowish green color as the bubbles. All of them hovered a hair’s breadth above the surface. Half was taken up by several particularly large sets of glyph combinations, all squished up alongside one another so they would fit. Each carried both a concept, and what could be charitably called a measurement–in the sense of someone trying to describe a temperature without using Farenheit, or a weight without pounds. Useless without a frame of reference to compare to. Not only the measurements, but their associated concepts were muddled. Some in an uncommunicable sense like the serpentinite stone, others just... not yet known or figured out.

The only concept I could begin to identify with a single word was Vitality. The word's particular flavor reminded me of Vitalistic beliefs, as it conjured up relations to the concept of a 'vital spark'. With an added association of memory and experience. My theory was that it was related to, like a measurement of, the bubbles that would leak out upon an organism’s death.

Every piece of text on all other sides were engraved, to varying degrees, in absolutely miniscule gold writing. It definitely represented the knowledge I held, carrying the same concept as the golden bubble I had been given by the shrine spirit.

Sighing, I took a short break. Eventually, I started in earnest on that water purification magic, using the smallest pot filled with seawater. It was more of a cup, really, with a band running through the middle and thin, curved blue triangles on either side that evoked ocean waves.

It was so much harder to cast! Guiding my power over the blueprint’s markers was like drawing a connect-the-dots picture, but with the pencil held between my toes. Trying to blindly follow along with what was in front of me, without a clue of how or why it functioned, was intensely frustrating. Even worse, it seemed I occasionally had more success when I actively deviated from the path.

By the time the rains abated in the early evening, I managed to envelop the cup with a silvery, semi-opaque aura coming from my hands. The water itself was crystal clear, but I still had trouble actually lifting the separated impurities out of it.

Exhausted, though still unsatisfied, I quickly fell asleep.

I woke to a start, immediately feeling pangs of hunger.

I'd like to catch one of those birds today. There were a few plants and berries that looked edible, too, but I wasn’t going to try my luck just yet. It was mid tide, but maybe I could still find–wait. Standing at the cliff’s edge, I thought I saw a small whale on the beach. My body jolted backwards in a panic, and I immediately rushed down the cliff path.

Questions flew through my mind. Was it alive, could I get it back to the sea, was it dead, and if it wasn’t… should I try to kill it instead?

My feet sped across the beach, making loud slapping sounds against the wet sand. I stumbled to a sudden halt upon realizing it wasn’t a whale, a dolphin, or even a known animal! Upon stopping, I could hear quiet snores echo throughout the cove.

It was a mermaid. Her skin was grey, sleek, and shiny, like that of a dolphin. Instead of a ray-finned fish, the tail was a cetacean's. It was pock-marked with scars. Some were from simple slashes, others clearly bite marks made by dagger-sized teeth. A few wrapped around like a snake, inflicted by the tentacles of a massive squid.

Curiously, there were small, stumpy fins on the tail, nearly crossing the line into being called legs. Tearing my eyes away for a second, I noticed foot and handprints in the sand leading to her napping spot.

The snores stopped. I heard a grumbling sound, then coughing, and she slowly turned to face me in a way that oozed contempt.

The mermaid was naked as the day she was born. Her human half’s skin was a slightly lighter grey color, worn and weathered, hanging loosely over her frame. Her body was thin, but not lacking as much muscle as I would expect from a person of such venerable age.

Long tresses fell down her back, obviously cut by a knife. It, and the fresh seaweed run through, exuded the air of someone deliberately trying to look fancy, but in a way that was supposed to seem natural and effortless.

Her face was placid, kind, in that generic grandmother sort of way. But the eyes…

I found myself staring into them way past the moment of awkwardness. The irises were deep blue, a shade darker than lapis lazuli, but her pupils were a lighter, greyish color. Their borders were hazy and indistinct against the sea. Bafflingly, her sclera were a vibrant yellow-gold, but not in a way that made her seem sickly. It was a truly piercing stare.

I heard a noise from somewhere, which snapped me back to reality.

“Hey, stop staring like a damn gutted fish,” she quietly repeated.

“Er, sorry. It’s just… Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She rolled her eyes, but then brightened up a bit and said,

“Haven’t heard anyone speak Iralic like that in a long while…” she said, voice still unnaturally low in volume.

“So, um, what’s your name? I’m Linus...” I said, still in utter shock.

“I’ll allow you to name me Nana, dearie,” she replied, ever so slightly patronizing.

Wait, that name… her coming here, right after the wards disappeared, too… it can’t be.

“How are you so old?!” I blurted out.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, little shrimp?” she simpered, as if knowing exactly the conclusion I had made.

Nana’s slight smile spread across her entire face into a grin, round eyes bulging slightly out of her head. It was an unnerving blend of sweet grandmother and predatory shark. Her peg-shaped dolphin teeth were pearlescent, shining brightly in the early morning sun.

“Yes, please,” I replied.

Can’t hurt to be polite. I hope “shrimp” is a term of endearment. I’m not that short, right?

Despite (almost) looking and sounding like an old gramma, she had an oddly comforting, ancient, battle-scarred sort of aura. I inwardly shuddered upon realizing it was familiar because it was like what my mom had.

I felt sure Nana could kill me as easily as she breathed, but my initial shock only ended up morphing into excitement and fascination.

She snorted and slapped her tail twice against the sand. Taking that as a cue, a barrage of questions flew from my mouth.

“How do the shrines–Was I brought here by–Can you take me to the–What was the purpose of the green stone that–How many other people have travelled…… and what exactly is the Apsu, anyway?”

She let out a long, horribly tortured, sigh. But upon hearing my final question, a hint of that smile returned to her face, before becoming more grim.

“I will show you the Apsu.”

After Nana assured me of my safety–I was reluctant at first, but too curious–we swam out. My wrist was held firmly in her hand, and she dragged me along like a sailboat would a dinghy.

Soon, we suddenly stopped. I was mercifully allowed to tread water on my own. In the distance, I could still see the shrine island.

Nana made a few rotating gestures, like the kind one does to signal ‘carry on’. I was about to ask what she meant, when a writhing, silvery eel emerged from her hand and wrapped itself around me. I looked down and my entire body was encased in a shimmering field.

Entering a world filled to the brim with life, I found I could breathe in it.

Great rocks littered the sea floor, covered with a rainbow of different algae, huge barnacles, and a multitude of coral, anemones, sea sponges… Some corals looked as if they were thin, chalk-white trees rising out of the rocks, each branch holding hundreds of small fruits. Others were thick, steadfast, on which bloomed vibrant red flowers.

Long tendrils on anemones gently waved in the current. All around me, a treasure trove of multicolored fish flitted about, my expression perfectly matching theirs. I could see an enormous lobe-finned fish the size of a small whale keeping a wary distance. Its bone-plated head and wide teeth instantly called to mind Dunkleosteus. Its jaws looked like they could easily tear a chunk out of a sailboat, let alone my body.

Nana tugged at my hand, and I turned around, seeing our destination. It was a giant crack in the earth itself, dark as pitch. Trickles of bubbles gradually escaped the void.

Just before we entered, upon instinct, I drew and held a breath.

We descended deeper,

and deeper,

and deeper.

I felt Nana’s hand on my face, gently closing my eyelids. Instantly, I reopened them, then got the message.

I shut them again and saw nothing. Utter and absolute darkness. Even the dance of subtle stars and patterns always seen when one closes their eyes had vanished.

My body felt nearly weightless. A slight current tugged, threatening to set me adrift. I felt the sensation of falling downwards ever further.

Fresh and pure water rushed up from unfathomable depths.

Suddenly, a glimmer of light appeared far below me, wavered, and a stream slowly came into view. The ocean vent's walls were nowhere to be found. I floated inside an incomprehensibly large space.

Staring at the river of light drifting through the darkness, I knew that I could gaze at it forever.

Looking more closely, it was made up of spirits, moving and twisting beings. In their forms, many times smaller than I, some were simple, mere wisps or spirals. Others’ structures were complex, comparative to plankton or diatoms. Yet more were long, waving chains.

They were basal forms of life, drifting along currents in the fresh-water ocean under the sea.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw Nana’s eyes, her pupils filled with the same glowing green-gold. Then, I heard her voice call from far away.

And I was pulled back to the surface.

“Entrancing, isn’t it?”

I dumbly nodded, speechless. Spots persisted in my vision, inexplicably golden-colored.

“It is, some say, the source of life itself. Stare for too long, and your spirit, your very presence, will fall into its flow. There, vast Apsu-eels and other such beasts swim through the millennia.”

Nana paused.

“The few lost people who escape its current… hm. It is better to never fall in the first place,” she explained, voice steady and solemn.

Nana’s face was distant, completely blank. Those blue-yellow eyes, pupils indistinct and milky, stared right through me, looking at things none but she could see.

I held back waves of nausea during our entire swim back to shore, and promptly collapsed upon the sand. My mind was still swimming with visions of that otherworldly river.

Despite my distress, I didn’t think for a second she had shown me it out of the desire to see me suffer–the opposite, really. Nana seemed the type to have a sink-or-swim mindset, immediately throwing me in the deep end so I would know what I was truly getting into.

Wait, Nana had mentioned "lost people". That... was the same term the votive inscription had used. Besides the whole 'deep dark ocean void' similarities, I think my method of arrival, and the Apsu itself, definitely was linked in some way.

I sighed, and struggled to my feet. It was time to move forwards.