RED- The Sea Remembers

They say the sea forgets nothing.
Every name it drowns becomes a note in its endless song-every secret, every scream, every prayer sinking into the dark where even gods refuse to listen. The sound of it is everywhere: in the rush of the tides, in the creak of coral bones, in the heartbeat of the deep. Some nights, if you listen long enough, you can almost hear the stories it keeps-the birth of stars drowned in salt, the first voice that broke the silence, the last one that tried to silence her back. But some names echo louder than the rest. Mine always did.
The sea remembers everything. She remembers the first voice that sang her into motion, the first law that chained her still, the first girl foolish enough to think she could break both. That was me. They say I was born during a tide that moved backward-waves clawing toward the abyss instead of the shore, the whole kingdom holding its breath as the moon forgot its pull. My father took it as a warning. My sisters called it a curse. I call it proof. Even then, the sea wanted to swallow me whole.