The Present
Crap.
Water dripped off of the pirates I had plastered in seawater.
Silence fell over the deck, the usual chatter abruptly stifled as every pair of eyes turned to stare at me, mouths agape. Their gazes bore into me, like a heavy anchor pinning me in place, as if each of them was struggling to process what they'd just witnessed.
Daniel shook himself out of his stupor, water still dripping from his hair. His eyes widened, then narrowed, his expression shifting from shock to something more intense. "What did you just do, Maris?" His voice was low, tinged with awe.
I opened my mouth, trying to stammer an explanation, but no words came out. The disbelief in the salty air hung thick around me. For a heartbeat, I stood at the centre of their astonishment, an unintentional spectacle.
Then, from behind, a burly pirate let out a hearty laugh, breaking the tension. "Look at this lad! We've got ourselves a mage!" he bellowed, clapping me on the shoulder with enough force to nearly send me sprawling.
I forced a laugh, though nerves twisted in my stomach.
Daniel crossed his arms, still studying me closely. "You'd better learn to control that better," he muttered, a dark edge to his tone, "now go get a mop. I want the entire deck dried!"
As I turned to fetch the mop, the crew slowly went back to their work, murmuring amongst themselves. It seemed like they'd moved on, but I caught the lingering glances, the whispers of "water mage" floating in the air.
I started mopping, moving in slow, deliberate strokes across the deck as I tried to still the nerves in my stomach. It wasn't the first time my magic had caused trouble, but somehow, every time felt just as risky. My power felt like some wild animal living inside me, always lurking, waiting for a crack in my control to slip through. The sea called to me constantly, in a way I could barely explain. And when I responded to it, it felt effortless, almost like I was merely breathing it into life.
Except breathing shouldn't cause accidents.
I glanced around, making sure nobody was watching, and let the mop dip lazily into a remaining puddle of seawater. This gift was still a mystery to me, mainly because of my father, but since he disappeared a couple months ago I've had a bit of time to experiment.
He'd always forbidden me from using my water manipulation unless necessary, urging me to pretend I was like any other mage, casting spells with effort, making it seem difficult. But his warnings had left me with only half-answers and more questions than ever. He'd never once told me the full story of where these powers came from, only offering cryptic hints in his rare, drunken moods.
I remember one night, a few days before he disappeared, he'd come home from the tavern, more drunk than usual. His eyes were unfocused, and he swayed as he stepped into our small house. I was sitting near the window, listening to the waves outside, when he noticed me and gestured with a half-empty bottle.
"Mark…" he slurred, his voice heavy and thick with drink. "Come here."
There was a strange glint in his eyes, something that kept me rooted in place, uncertain. He waved me over again, and I walked toward him, wary but curious.
He squinted, as though seeing someone else in my place, and his hand reached out clumsily, his rough fingers brushing my cheek. "You look… like her," he mumbled, the words soft but sharp, cutting through the haze of his drunken stupor. His thumb grazed over my cheekbone, lingering as he stared, almost lost in his own memories. "Those eyes… that strange dark green colour… your striking dark hair and the nearly unnoticeable shade of light blue skin… but I notice!"
I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet, waiting.
A sudden sorrow seemed to break through his drunken fog. "Your mother… was so much more than you can imagine," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. "That's why you have to be careful. He'll… notice."
"Who will notice?" I'd whispered, barely daring to ask.
But his eyes had drifted to the floor, his grip slackening as he took another long, bitter swig from his bottle. "That's enough," he muttered to himself, stumbling back into his chair. That was all he'd offered, that night or any other. But the way he looked at me, it was as if he feared what he saw.
And then, days later, he was gone. Vanished as if he'd never existed at all.
Just then, a sudden shout erupted from the starboard side.
"Watch out!" a voice called, followed by the sound of crashing wood. I spun around, heart racing, just in time to see a barrel rolling toward me, dislodged by a careless crewman.
Instinctively, I reached out, letting my magic pulse through me, and the water from the mop surged forward. I directed it with a flick of my wrist, and the water formed a barrier, stopping the barrel inches from my feet. It tipped precariously but stayed upright, the wood splintering as it settled back down.
Phew! That was close… wait, shit! I didn't say spell name before I did that!
The clumsy crewman came running over and suddenly paused.
It's over, he knows.
A couple of seconds later the crewman woke up from his reverie, "Sorry, mister. It's just I've only ever seen a couple mages before." He said, before picking up the barrel and placing it up right. "My name's Eddy" he continued, black eyes sparkling with wonder.
"Mark Maris" I responded, my voice slightly shaky.
"Well, I'll be the first to say welcome aboard! Now I'll let you continue before Daniel sees us." Eddy said, and then rolled the barrel back to its position.
I reluctantly focused back onto the mop in my hands, sweeping it back and forth.
I thought that was it, I would have to live in exile and hide away for the rest of my life! But no one noticed that I didn't say anything before I made the water move, only some of the most powerful Elf mages can do that. Yet Eddy didn't give it a second thought?
The other pirates around moved like shadows, mindlessly completing tasks, oblivious to the fact that I gave a clear sign I'm not a normal mage.
My father would've killed me if he saw I made such a mistake. Where the hell did that drunkard disappear off to?
My father had disappeared months ago now, yet I still thought about it constantly, every second of the day. Since he'd disappeared, I thought I should come to the sea, as if hoping it would have the answers I needed. And it did, in a way. Out here, I felt alive, stronger. But that was also what worried me. Every time I reached out to the water, to the power that hummed beneath the surface, I felt as though I were slipping closer to something I didn't understand.
I wondered if my father had always planned on disappearing—or if something had happened to him. If he does come back, the note I left at home should explain to him where I am, I bet he won't be happy when he sees it. But it's too late for me to return now.