Fearless

Chapter 1

14 Years Later...

Our feet were silent as we jogged through the village market. The stars had begun to fade as the first shades of light were starting to emerge from the East. My white hair waved behind me as I picked up my pace, breathing in the fresh morning air. I smiled as I felt my heartbeat quicken in exhilaration.

"Come on, come on." I whispered to my brother who had fallen behind my long strides.

"You're too fast!" he whined and began dragging his feet along the dirt, leaving a trail of tiny earth particles to be carried through the air.

I whirled around and in a few short strides I knelt down to his level and placed a hand over his mouth.

"Seriously Michael? Do you want everyone to hear you? 'Cause I sure as hell don't feel like be dragged back home by Enforcers." I hiss in annoyance. The last time that happened, our father was furious.

He shook his head murmuring through my hand. I raised my eyebrow and he went silent.

I smiled lightly, "come on, it's going to be fun, we just have to be quiet." I ruffled his white hair and stood back up.

He gave me a toothless grin and we begin to jog lightly in out of alleyways towards The Cove.

Apparently, The Cove was beautiful before The Surge. It used to be brimming with life. Tourists would come from around the world to view all it had to offer. The harbour had ferry's come in and out everyday allowing people to travel from one part of Sydney to another. There were cafes, boardwalks and pure merriment.

That was then. Now it's submerged in water.

Its iconic monuments have different names too. We call the Opera House The Peaks; it is completely underwater apart from its interlocking snow-white shells that push through the surface. The Harbour Bridge is no more than twisted steel collapsed in the water.

From my home I can see what is left of The Cove and I sometimes feel despondent. How could my ancestors do this to such a beautiful place? To such a beautiful world?

Our town uses The Cove as a fishing outlet and despite its bleak appearance at this time of the morning, it's the best time to come down. There is no one to bother us and no one to question my elaborate hand movements.

We were getting close now. I could smell the fresh salty air as we passed the ancient buildings. Most people don't live near the water because the tide is so unpredictable and the buildings are so unstable. Many of the buildings around here have been destroyed by the water and have crumbled away over time.

We take a left and pass under one of the camphor laurel trees; its branches twisted within a building's sandstone structure. Our sandals begin to dampen in puddles of salt-water as we run through the high-tide line and towards our small boat tied to a makeshift dock.

As we pushed our boat away from the dock and out into The Cove, the sun had started to break through the horizon.

I passed my brother the oars, "get rowing, I'll help steer."

"Do you think we'll catch anything big?" he asked, his eyes twinkling as he began to row.

"You never know what the tides will bring" I smiled, flicking my wrist behind me to get the boat really moving, "but I really hope it'll give us a big one! It would be great to have a huge breakfast today."

He nodded in agreement, his white curls bobbing up and down. I continued to move my arms backwards and forward to pull the water beneath us. I remember when my father first tried to teach me to waterbend like this; he said it was all about the stance. When you pull your arms back, you must not twist your hips or that will weaken your hold on the water. It took hours and hours of practice and frustration to master it, but it has definitely come in handy.