The Bond Beyond the Tide

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Kaelen had never believed that the sea would one day answer her. Since childhood, she had lived with stories of lost paths, sunken temples, and beings who came when one stopped searching. In her homeland, they called her Dreamer. When she left, she carried nothing but her bow, a map made of moondust, and a name that no longer belonged to her. Now she sat on a moss-covered stone at the edge of the world. Beside her rested Varaan—not a horse, not a dragon, but something in between. His skin shimmered like wet slate, crisscrossed with veins of turquoise. His long horns, covered with algae, resembled driftwood that had slumbered for centuries beneath the surface. His eyes reflected tides in which stars were lost. Varaan had come when she had reached the lowest point of her journey—in the emerald darkness of the Misty Ridge, where time stood still and memories began to sing. He hadn't chosen her, nor had she chosen him. They had found each other, like two lost thoughts dreaming the same dream. The morning was still, the sky a pale blue, the sand warm with the breath of the night. Kaelen held her bow loosely, but she wasn't hunting. Not today. Today she waited. Before them, the ancient stone arches of Ismur rose from the sea. Two ruins, like gatekeepers to a forgotten world. At low tide, they were said to open the gateway to the Coast of Possibilities. But it wasn't the low tide that counted. It was the moment in between—between heartbeat and breath, between doubt and determination. "Almost," she whispered. Varaan raised his head. A wave lapped against his paws, but he didn't move. An ancient knowledge lived within him. Perhaps he had carried others. Perhaps he himself was part of the ruins, a shard of stone and storm that had never forgotten how to wait. The air changed. The wind shifted. Seagulls fell silent. And then—a light. A silvery thread, as fine as spider webs, stretched between the two stone arches. It wasn't a harsh glow, but more a flicker, like the breath of a star just before it goes out. The way was there. Kaelen rose slowly. The strap of her quiver scraped softly over her shoulder. Every movement was ritual. No words were necessary. She placed a hand on Varaan's flank. He lowered himself a little so she could mount. The saddle was hard, the equipment heavy. But nothing weighed more heavily than the inkling of what lay beyond. They rode off.
Not quickly, not hesitantly—simply forward, through the light, over the water that barely foamed beneath Varaan's footsteps. The sea had grown still. Even the waves seemed to be waiting. As they passed through the gate, a tingling sensation ran through Kaelen's body. She felt no pain, no fear—only vastness. It was as if she were falling and flying at the same time. Thoughts became permeable, the past faded. Then—silence.