Listening.
No.Deciding.
And so it does.
It heaves and crashes and claws at the rocks, as if the sea itself has risen to bar her passage—sentient, furious, alive with refusal.
Panic rises hot and sharp, but Teddy’s words score through it like a knife through silk.
It is the inevitable end when your body panics before your mind can intervene.
Spray from the ocean crawls into her eyes, all salt and sabotage. But Seren grits her teeth, baring them in retaliation. She plants her feet.
The sky shakes, preparing to unleash lightning like a divine whip.
Seren moves.
She crouches low in a fighting posture—the ocean her opponent. It churns, building momentum, driving its swell higher.Like it knows her.
Lightning flares in the gray skies, the light catching in her eyes like polished steel.
The swell builds—a crawling wall, whipping and snarling like an angered beast. The angle of the water tilts, no longer rising and falling, but this time, driving straight at her. It climbs high enough to reach beyond the mouth of the cavern. But this time, Seren is not afraid.
Soft knees.
She crouches lower, ready to absorb the impact.
Three points of contact.
She places another hand on the ground, weight back in her heels.
Never meet force head-on.
She angles herself away from the force.
Exhale on contact.
She braces, holding her breath.
Until the ocean rains down on her in a heavy blow—needled peaks press into her skin, tearing at her flesh.
The force blasts her sideways, but her knees take the hit, absorbing the force.
The ocean ebbs, regaining its strength, readying itself for more.
So Seren runs. Not because she knows what to do, but because stopping isn’t an option anymore.
Breath is timing.
She sucks in sharp, fragmented breaths, and she runs.
Faster than she’s ever allowed herself to move.
She’s awkward. All stumbling feet and tangled limbs, but she runs, uncaring for correctness.
The ocean draws back, ready for destruction.
So Seren braces.
