Clouds Over the Sea

Chapter 1: The Oceans call

The sound of the waves was the first thing Elowyn heard, though she hadn't yet opened her eyes. It was soft at first, like a whisper, but it grew louder, crashing against her ears with a rhythmic insistence as if the ocean were calling her by name.

She stood at the edge of a vast, glittering sea. The horizon stretched out before her—endless and vast, where the water met the sky in a seamless line. The moon hung low, casting its silver light over the water's surface, and everything shimmered in a quiet, ghostly glow.

Elowyn reached out, her fingers grazing the cool, wet sand beneath her feet. The shore was empty, save for a single, delicate shell lying half-buried in the sand. She bent down to pick it up, its surface smooth and warm against her palm, and as she held it to her ear, the whispers of the ocean seemed to grow louder still, like a voice calling her from the depths.

Her heart began to race, the sensation growing sharper, more insistent. She could feel the pulse of the ocean now, as if it were beating in time with her own heart. And in that heartbeat, the world shifted.

The water before her began to move, curling and twisting in patterns too strange to understand. She saw flashes—glowing coral, the shadow of something large and dark beneath the waves. Then, as if the sea itself were alive, a shape emerged, rising from the depths.

A figure. Tall, fierce, with eyes that shone like the storm-tossed ocean. He reached out to her, his hand an offering, but his expression was somber, as though he had been waiting for her—waiting for years, waiting for something inevitable.

"Elowyn," he said, his voice as deep as the ocean, a command and a plea wrapped into one. "You are the one. The one that will save us all."

The words echoed through her mind, vibrating in the very marrow of her bones. She wanted to respond, to ask questions, but the ocean was calling her, calling her deeper, urging her to come closer.

Her hand trembled as she reached toward him.

"Elowyn..."

The voice whispered again, closer now, as the waves surged. Her body felt lighter, as if the sea were pulling her into its depths. She closed her eyes, and in the moment between waking and dreaming, she felt herself falling—falling into the depths of the ocean, into the waiting arms of something ancient, something powerful.

Elowyn jolted awake, breath shallow and heart thundering in her chest. The room was still, washed in the soft hush of early morning, but the call of the ocean lingered, echoing in her ears like a fading lullaby. For a moment, she sat frozen, hands gripping the edge of her bed, the dream clinging to her like salt air.

On her nightstand, the pendant her father had left behind caught the first light of dawn, casting a warm, gentle gleam—as if it, too, remembered the sea.

The dream was already dissolving, but the ache it left behind remained. A pull toward something distant. Ancient. Unnamed.

She turned toward the clock.
7:15 AM.
She was late.

With a groan, Elowyn swung her legs off the bed, her feet meeting the cold floor. The house was silent, save for the creak of the old wooden floors beneath her. It always felt too quiet now. After her father disappeared, the silence seemed to stretch out, filling every corner of the house.

She pulled on her school uniform—stiff, uncomfortable—and glanced absently at the small wooden shelf by her bed. It was still cluttered with her father's things: a few books, a half-empty jar of dried seaweed, a battered fishing cap. Her father had always been quiet, but now his absence was deafening.

Her eyes lingered on a framed photo of her mother, taken when Elowyn was just a toddler. It was the only photo she had of her, a faded memory captured in time: a young woman with sun-kissed skin and eyes that seemed to sparkle with the same wild energy that had always drawn Elowyn to the ocean.