The sea did not move like the river. It rolled, it breathed, it heaved, and every part of it seemed designed to remind me how small I was. The Tide's Promise pitched beneath my boots, the deck groaning and creaking with each wave, while gulls wheeled overhead like they were laughing at us.
I gripped the railing and tried to stand tall, though every tilt felt like it wanted to send me sprawling. My knuckles whitened. My knees locked. I told myself I looked steady. From Captain Sera's bark of laughter, I knew I didn't.
"Boy grips the rail like it's his mother's apron," she called from the stern. "You'll learn. Or you'll drown."
Behind me, Mira snorted. "Don't worry, Rowan, you'll get used to it. Took me all of two minutes."
"That's because you've no sense of balance to lose," Darin shot back, ducking as Mira swiped at his head.
Callen, as usual, just folded his arms, glaring at the horizon like he could glare the waves flat. "Balance is a waste of time. You fight the water, or you sink."
"That's rich," Mira muttered. "Coming from a man who hasn't even touched a bucket today."
I smiled despite myself. The three of them bickered constantly, but they made the deck feel less empty.
Lyra moved through them like calm through chaos. She was steady in every roll, every sway, every spray of salt water, Bounty following at her heels with two crates balanced on his broad back. He didn't stumble once.
"Enough," she said, not loud, but enough to quiet them. "It's time you all learn the next step."
"The next step of what?" Mira asked, brushing wet hair from her face.
Lyra stopped at the bow. She looked out across the endless blue, then back at us. "Breathing where men shouldn't breathe."
I frowned. "You mean—"
"Yes," she cut in. "Underwater."
Darin laughed, a little too loudly. "Oh sure, let's just breathe the sea, shall we? Easy as pie."
Lyra ignored him. "You've shaped water into ice. You've drawn it and pushed it. But water is more than that. Air is hidden inside it, bound in every droplet. If you can draw it out and shape it, you can keep yourself alive beneath the surface."
That silenced even Darin.
Mira's eyes lit up. "So… like a bubble? A real bubble you can breathe from?"
Lyra nodded. "Small at first. Enough to keep a flame alive. Then big enough for your lungs."
I shifted uncomfortably. "That's… possible?"
She fixed me with a look. "It's necessary."
Callen scowled. "Waste of time. If you're under the sea, you've already lost the fight."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Tell that to the islanders when we arrive. Breathing beneath the surface is their way of life. Without it, you'll always be a guest. Worse—useless in their eyes."
That shut him up, though he muttered something about "better to swing a sword than chase fog" under his breath.
Lyra crouched, scooping a bowl from the crate Bounty carried. She filled it with a ladle of seawater, then set it in front of us. The liquid sloshed with the ship's motion, catching the morning light.
"Start here," she said. "Close your eyes. Don't pull the water. Listen to it. Feel the difference between the water and what's trapped inside it."
Mira was already kneeling, face inches from the bowl. She closed her eyes, lips moving as if she were whispering to the sea itself.
Darin crouched reluctantly, scratching his jaw. "What happens if I pull too hard? Do I drown in a puddle?"
"You'll sputter," Lyra said dryly. "And Rowan will laugh at you."
"Count on it," I said.
Even Callen came forward, though he didn't kneel. He stood stiff, arms crossed, staring down at the bowl like it had insulted him. "I'll try," he muttered, "but don't expect miracles."
I leaned in. The water shimmered, moving with the ship. I reached with my hand, then stopped. Lyra's voice echoed in my memory: Don't pull like a rope. Feel it.
I closed my eyes.
The salt smell pressed against my skin. The deck creaked beneath me. The bowl sloshed with each tilt. I imagined peeling away the water, searching for something lighter, something hidden. My chest tightened. For a heartbeat, I thought I felt it—small beads, pockets of nothing within the weight.
A prick of cold gathered on my fingertips. My breath hitched. I opened my eyes. A faint shimmer clung to my skin, like mist that refused to fall.
Lyra's mouth twitched upward. "Good."
Beside me, Mira gasped. A bubble the size of a grape floated up from her palm, wobbled in the air, and popped with a wet snap.
Darin swore. "How the hell—"
"Because I actually listened," Mira said smugly.
Callen grunted. His bowl rippled violently, then went still. Nothing happened. He crossed his arms again. "Trick of the light. Fog. Doesn't matter in a fight."
"Keep telling yourself that," Mira shot back.
Darin leaned over his bowl, muttering curses. A thin fizz rose on the surface, then collapsed. He groaned. "I'll drown for sure."
I laughed, maybe too loud. The ship pitched just then, and I nearly toppled into the rail.
Lyra shook her head. "Again. All of you. Don't stop with a drop. Work until you can hold a bubble. Until you can imagine it lasting long enough to breathe."
We worked until our fingers ached, until the bowls sloshed half-empty, until Callen stomped away in frustration. Mira managed another bubble, this one the size of her thumb, which Darin pretended not to see. My skin dampened again, a faint mist rising from my knuckles. Progress.
Lyra finally stood. "That's enough for today. Tomorrow we'll move to buckets. After that, the shallows. By then, you'll either breathe beneath the sea or choke trying."
"That's encouraging," Darin muttered.
Bounty brayed as if mocking him. Mira laughed, bright and easy, while Callen scowled at the horizon like the waves themselves had betrayed him.
I stayed crouched a moment longer, staring at the empty bowl. My fingertips still tingled. For the briefest moment, I'd felt it—the shape of something inside the water that wasn't water at all.
Terrifying. And exhilarating.
Lyra walked past me, pausing just long enough to touch my shoulder. "You're closer than you think."
"Closer to drowning?" I asked.
Her mouth curved in that half-smile of hers. "Closer to breathing."
The sea rolled under us, endless and deep. And for the first time, I felt like it was waiting to see if I could belong to it.