Forcing a measly meal of the biggest fish I was patient enough to catch down my throat, I was on my way to the storeroom on the other side of the boat when the ship rocked without warning to the side. Slipping on the floorboards, I dashed haphazardly to the stairway, jamming the key into the lock of the trapdoor that would let me above deck.
Dropping onto my knees—the only way I could move without falling over—I crawled painfully to the railing of the boat, gripping onto it until my knuckles went white. I looked over the edge and nearly threw up.
Waves the size of hills buffeted the boat from side to side, spilling onto the deck. I hadn't even seen what was causing the waves, and already my clothes were soaked through.
One might think the answer was obvious; that it was a summer storm or a hurricane.
But it was pretty obvious that that wasn't the answer, because when I looked up, the sky was a clear, gentle blue, fluffy white clouds drifting lazily on a salty zephyr.
Snarling in frustration, I slipped on the wet planks and slid halfway down the deck, another five trillion buckets of water slamming into the boat. I tried to grip onto the steel bar lining the gunwale, but my hands slid right off, fingers not even closing fully around the railing before my palms hit the deck. I thought of all the splinters I would have to pluck out later and sighed.
Knees barking in pain, I hugged the edge of the boat with everything I had, the water pounding onto the wood behind me. Gritting my teeth, I looked up again—the sky was still a tauntingly calm sapphire. Feeling queasy, I looked over the edge, only to have my feet washed out from underneath me. The ocean was glimmering softly, cobalt and turquoise sparkles reflecting a perfect summer sky.
It was clear that the sea would not stop.
So, letting go of the gunwale with my heart hammering in my chest, I flattened myself against the deck and strapped my dagger tightly to my waist. Taking off my soaked denim jacket, I willed strength to my sore fingers and hauled my torso over the edge of the skiff. Just as another enormous wave crested and thundered towards me, I inched my thighs further down—my knees, scraped raw through my pants—my ankles—
and I dived.
Bubbles streaked past me as I swam further down, my hair billowing out in a (very irritating) cloud around my head. Slimy kelp grabbed at my legs, pulling me down, as I realised, I hadn't even thought about how I, uh, couldn't breathe underwater. Either way, it wouldn't be long before the boat sank, and I wouldn't be able to breathe anyways. Seeing only sand and nothingness (plus one lonely fish), I swallowed and pushed back up to the surface, beams of white light flashing like torches through the water. I broke the waves, gasping, as I gulped down air, kicking desperately to stay afloat.
Another wave crashed towards me, rocking the ocean, and I plunged down through the green again.
As waves shook the water and tilted the ocean into spirals of white foam, I blinked my stinging eyes and propelled myself further into the seaweed and sand. Just as I grabbed a handful of rock, a shred of granite slicing through my palm, a huge wave pushed me into the stone. Tumbling without reason, my hair tangled around my head, my bleeding hand stinging as if it had been pushed into a shredder and coated with salt (which it might as well have been), my shins knocked into a rough boulder and bone cracked.
Water rushed into my lungs, and before I could do anything, the world spun dizzily, my shattered leg screaming. the darkness swirled on forever, on and on in front of me. I kicked madly with my uninjured leg, but the other dragged it down, an anchor or flesh. Just a metre away from the surface, the ocean went still, a vortex pulling me under.
And my vision went black.
The first thing I noticed was that I could breathe.
The second thing I noticed was that the more I did, the more tired I felt.
Looking around, my vision foggy as if I were looking through a pair of short-sighted glasses, I felt sand against my back and—and nothing else. Light split off a chipped quartz stone in the corner, beaming an infrared glow like a rainbow shattering off a crystal ball into the space, but I couldn't care less as I wriggled my spine against the sand. I vaguely remember cutting my hand on a shard of stone, the blood stifled by the pressure of the water, but I couldn't feel the sting of pain that was the saltwater soaking into it.
Then I realised that I couldn't feel my hand at all.
As the chill of the eerie ocean started to set in, I instinctively reached to rub my hands together, when I grasped that they couldn't move.
I couldn't make them move. I couldn't—make—them—move.
And more than death, more than pain and fear, that was what scared me most. I remembered a time when my body hadn't obeyed me—a memory that still haunted my dreams. Still hounded my waking moments.
"Come on, jump!" I couldn't imagine what sort of punishment awaited us if we got there late.
He shook his head adamantly as she checked her watch anxiously, biting her lip. I pursed my lips in frustration as he disappeared into the treehouse, the wooden platform below shuddering as he put his weight on it.
"Hurry up, grandma," I scowled, climbing up onto the ladder to help him down.
He took my outstretched hand.
A muffled roaring filled my head as my hands didn't move. The muscles in my back and neck strained until sand dug into my skin and poured down my sopping wet clothes, but still I felt nothing in my toes and fingers.
And without thinking, I leaped.
I tried to hold on, to stop the momentum of my body cutting through the air, wanted to reverse time and make that second of reckless thought vanish.
I tried.
Because I knew that I would land on my feet, even though I might stumble. But I knew the rocky, uneven ground surrounding this tree like the back of my hand. And I knew he wouldn't land like I would.
I tried.
Because I knew that if he was lost today, then I would not only lose someone who was dear to me, but dear to many. A hero in the eyes of a whole nation.
I tried.
Ancient, raw command ricocheted over and over again in my brain as I pulled him down with me. I indeed landed on the ground, a puff of dust rising from where my feet connected with the earth, not even slipping on the sand and dust.
But as the voice taking hold of my brain advanced, I let go of his hand, ripped his other one from the twisted rope.
His body arched; face twisted in petrified shock as his feet lost their grip on the rope ladder. She looked up, realisation and agony tearing across her face as she started forward, far, far too late.
His arms flailed uselessly as he arced through the air, rope slapping against the tree.
I tried to squeeze my eyes shut until the memory was forced out of my head, but it was then I truly grasped that I could not feel anything other than my torso. So I stood there, sat, laid—I didn't know—as I was forced to relive the moment he was taken from me—from all of us. His memory stung worse than my broken leg had, even though that pain was now numb.
It had been a while since I'd had a flashback like this. They were never in any particular order—for that I was grateful; then they did not seem like mindless replays of an endless video. I'd been foolish to think they had gone away, that his death could ever be avenged. Every day I prayed. That it was not me who had truly brought about his death. I knew that some other force had been behind it. Even so, I always wondered if I had only imagined that presence.
Out of the blue, I felt a pulsing vibration shake the sandbar at my back.
Butterflies fluttered around in my stomach, beating their quailing wings faster and faster, shuddering as wind ripped through my abdomen—shaking as they died, going still and regenerating as my heart beat faster. I glimpsed a chunk of sand stream down beside me through the corner of my eye.
And still, I couldn't move.
Another section of sand spilled down on the other side of me, scattering the water with grains of beige.
And my body was frozen, petrified as the sand at my back crumbled.
My head pounded, a shrill screaming filling it as the only thing supporting my body turned to dust.
But instead of falling, tumbling through the sea into the unknown, a sound echoed through the darkness. There was a slight, intangible pause in everything, like time had stopped and cracked down the middle.
Then time sealed itself.
And when it restarted, I was on my feet and I could feel my whole body again.
But when the two seconds of relief passed, I could not only feel my arms, my legs and feet, but also the injuries I'd sustained. I could blink freely and see the cave I was in, yes, but I could also feel a pounding headache that must've been the result of me knocking my head on a rock somewhere. I could now move my fingers, but I could also feel the stinging of the cut on my palm. Most of all, I could stand, I was indeed standing, standing of my own will, but I could feel agony coursing through that broken leg.
I stumbled back, landing on the sand with a muffled thump, trying to resist the urge to lay down and cry as I tried to hold my leg still despite the shaking of my body.
A voice rang out of the darkness. "Oh, child. There is nothing but death here. Your resilience, however impressive, will not save you." To my surprise, the voice sounded gnarled but warm, like Grandma's had been before she was…taken. I started in surprise and a tremor of pain lashed through my leg.
"Or… I could just eat you first," it added helpfully. I realised that while the voice said this, it had been inching across the seabed. One giant tendril, the length of a house, puckered with terrifying suckers, at a time. All eight of them crawling into sight, followed by a large, bulbous head with lidded eyes the size of UFOs. The enormous cephalopod's skin was a horrifying, slimy red that made it look like it had been boiled alive.
I cannot accept your kind offer, I thought as I gritted my teeth.
Bubbles like whole chimneys emanated from the octopus's head, followed by a gurgling sound. Its laughter rang across the cavern. "Aha, but I am conveniently hungry. It would be no problem. Succumb, and you will feel less pain. Or there is another option. I am incredibly bored. Tell me a story."
"A story?"
"Yes. Or would you prefer to be eaten instead?"
Well, of course I didn't want to be eaten. If I could, I would stay in one piece for as long as possible. But a story? I didn't have any of those. There were the tribal stories, but Grandma always told them best. I didn't think it was my place to tell them. I couldn't remember the details. Then I remembered.
A voice like honey and cream. The night it all began, crystal clear in my mind.
That night, kept alive forever by the power of memory. I could claim it. Tell the story and take back what was mine. For all I knew, Grandma was gone as well. In memory, I could keep her alive—her voice and the way she moved.
I moved to sit up in a more comfortable position. Agony ripped through my leg like a pack of wild dogs. Caught momentarily with my weight on my broken leg, I let out a piercing scream. I tried to move off my leg, but the movement was tormenting. A firetruck-red tentacle covered with blistering blue suckers, the smallest of which was the size of a frying pan, shot out and wrapped around me. Its cobra's vice squeezed tighter and for a second, I thought the octopus was going to make good on its offer to eat me. But then relief washed through my limbs, bringing refreshing calm. When the octopus unfurled itself from me, only soreness lingered in my leg. The pain was gone.
I sat up. Not even a memory of discomfort remained in my leg. "Thank you." I breathed. The relief was a tangible thing—there's a level of pain where you forget what it's like to not hurt everywhere. Even the cut had vanished from my palm.
Warm, bubbly air trickled into my nostrils as I breathed in.
"Once, thousands of moons ago, darkness formed in a land of forest and ocean…"
I tripped over so many parts I wasn't sure if even half of it was the same as the original. But the essence of the folktale remained; where darkness and demons had risen from a land of peace and plenty, and how four great heroes: a Fireling, an Earthling, a Waterling, and an Airling had sacrificed themselves to destroy the monsters. The gods who'd each blessed them with their holy elemental powers, impressed by their unwavering courage and strength of spirit, gave the warriors' descendants a gift: the ability to control a sliver of the power the legendary heroes possessed.
It was only a clue, that fateful night. Fireling.
A squishy, wet sound echoed throughout the cave. I realised the octopus was clapping, its tentacles slapping together vigorously. The octopus seemed to blink its heavy-lidded eyes. Water spilled over from its slitted pupils. One tear solidified and floated in the water, a contained drop of milky liquid mixing and diffusing with the silvery ichor of the demon octopus. "A classic story, but a good one." The octopus burbled. "Now you have paid your debt for trespassing my waters. I will send you back to the surface."
Even though the octopus was the reason I had jumped overboard and broken my leg in the first place, gratitude still welled up at the legendary octopus with a healing touch.
"You have proven yourself as your own hero. Take this and swallow it when your body is in its direst hour of need. My healing will invigorate you." With a mother's gentleness, the octopus grasped the floating pearl and outstretched it to me. I took it with shaking fingers.
The octopus reached out again and wrapped itself tightly around my body. The squeezing sensation was still disorientating.
"One last thing," I stopped the octopus. "What's your name?" I didn't know why I wanted to know. Maybe it could join the other memories, sealed away tightly in glass jars in the shelves of my mind. Maybe one day, this encounter would be my story to tell. Everyone deserved a story.
Its head bobbed up and down like a cheerful bobblehead. "Ilkroda." Kraken.
Bubbles rose around me as Ilkroda's tentacle stretched to the surface of the ocean, depositing me on the deck of my poor boat. I sat there, unmotivated, for a long time, thinking.
Monsters could be good. I no longer knew what to believe.