Blood of the Sea, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter 35: Impasse

Astrophel

After Seyune, Kildanagan appears humble and down to earth as the caravan arrives back at the port-city. Bustling with life, the people of Kildanagan seem to have more of an appreciation for what they can offer each other, rather than being worried about the appearances they might put off for others to bear witness to. Settling back into the hubbub of regular life, the unrealized stress of Seyune melts away. The islanders help with fishing, boat construction, and even assist in building a few more houses: making quick work of transporting materials as they work with the residents of Kildangan.

A week of easy life passes almost in the blink of an eye. The lives of the islanders and those of Kildanganians mesh like strands of an interwoven basket. The only thing that stops it from being blissful, is the call of the ocean that everyone hears. Astrophel catches the looks thrown out to sea. The way the ships take longer and longer to return to the harbor on fishing trips. The way his people talk of the tides and the winds: their growing knowledge of the coastline spurring on talk of navigation.

Aside from his people, Astrophel finds himself taking comfort in Seri’s company. A wanderer at heart, she also talks about traveling, leaving Kildangan and making her way somewhere else. Her talk turns towards the islands as she spends more time amongst those from Magellani; her curiosity bright and potent. Astrophel finds himself spending evenings holding Dionne close, and sharing stories with Seri of his home. Of the islands and the ocean and the gods. Of how they build ships and ride hydrurga. Of their voyage to the continent.

The firelight licks across their skin, warming them and melting away the barriers present between their groups. The night hides their fears and reveals the vulnerable truths shared in stories turned legend. Dionne even offers for Seri to read the journal: the two of them pouring over the pages in a mix of understanding and frustration while Astrophel looks on.

It doesn’t take long before Astrophel feels the itch take hold of him. The current. The Call.

One such night, with Seri and Dionne huddled together, a blanket tossed across both of their laps, Astrophel extricates himself, reassuring them both he would be right back, and heading down to the shore. Dionne nods upon hearing him, her eyes dark with worry and the self-same longing pulling at Astrophel; Seri just smiles at him, not knowing the reason, the urge driving him, and rests her head on Dionne’s shoulder.

As his feet hit the water, a silvery head appears from the surf. He trudges forward, his faithful ‘urga surging closer with the next wave, butting her head against him and rumbling in greeting. Water, wet and cold and comforting, splashes up and soaks into his pants and shirt, making him feel more alive than he has in the weeks it’s been since they first laid eyes on Kildangan’s harbor. He wraps his arms around Iska’s neck, letting the waves wash over him before he allows himself to go limp: the water supporting him as his ‘urga turns, hauling him deeper into the water. A cheer goes up behind him as a few islanders see him head off, water crashing around his shoulders before bubbles fill his ears and the quiet of submersion envelops him.

Ryju swims out to greet him, a series of warbling clicks moving through the water between them. Shadowed at his side is Pyxis, the ‘urgas’ pup clad in silver with dark points pressed into their fur. The male and pup hang back as the continental shelf drops away below Iska and the she-‘urga picks up speed, wheeling away into the ocean.

When next they resurface, the harbor is a blip behind them, the coastline a dark shadow on the horizon, and the moonlight has turned the water to liquid silver. Astrophel sucks in a deep lungful of pure ocean air - cool with the kiss of midnight as it burns into his lungs, but he cares not with the mist off the water blowing salty kisses in his face. They bob in place, E’len and ‘urga, soaking the moment into their skin, their bones, as if the sea would dissolve them right where they are until they could exist as seafoam, forever a part of their beloved element.

Moonlight, thick like blood, mixes with the water, surrounding Astrophel in a pool of cold, bright light atop dark, endless water. He shivers, cooling in the night air, and he wonders if his lips are bruising blue from the cold yet; they would have back home, but it was warmer here than in Gytheio’s waters.

A familiar voice fills his mind like the calm before a storm, the pause between waves, and the crystalline feeling of a fresh breath of air in one’s lungs. What are you doing out here, Prince of Stars?

Astrophel closes his eyes, easily picturing Eulla surrounding him with her presence. She would always be with him in the ocean. She had promised that much. “I wanted a moment to breathe.”

Away from your people, their expectations, the new lands you’ve found, and their foreign laws?

“I just needed to get away. It’s suffocating.”

Do you not see the longing etched into the faces of your subjects? Your friends? And yet, you are the one to break first.

“I know I can’t go home…” the statement threatens to choke him as he says it. “I needed to remember what I’m fighting for.”

What you’re fighting for? Oh, little prince. Her voice sighs over him. The war is far from started.

“I don’t want to forget where I came from,” Astrophel pleads.

You won’t forget. Some day you will curse me for it.

Astrophel hears pain in the Goddess’s voice and his heart thumps heavily in his chest.

Your life belongs to the continent now. You will see the rise and fall of cities… leaders. The stars will bear witness to your vigilant heart, even when that same heart feels as cold and distant as the moons.

Astrophel swallows hard, blinking past the disbelief and aching with the truth of her words. It feels as though he is watching a set of doors seal in front of him, forever blocking him out. “I’ll never go back, will I?”

No. You won’t. Eulla’s voice is gentle - both a warning and a caress. In the play between silver and darkness, Astrophel can make out eyes studying him, large and unfathomable. Her hair, the ripples in the waves. I’m sorry.

Astrophel’s mouth quivers, homesickness choking him like a torrent through a too-small canal. He pats Iska’s neck and urges her back under water, the pair turning back toward the distant, foreign harbor.

Under the water, her voice rattles his bones. When you leave, follow the cliffs. Somewhere between heartbreak and hope, build a house and make it a home.

He has no response; not that he could respond underwater anyway. Instead, he tucks himself tight against Iska’s back and moves with the ever familiar propulsion of her tail.

The water does not warm him.

When he reaches shore, the forest-scented air doesn’t fill his lungs as it should.

Sleep evades him and the stars blur behind the water in his eyes.