The beach where Xiao Xu was buried became our sanctuary. We built a small cabin from driftwood and tarps, its walls lined with salt-stained books and jars of fireflies that Lila insisted would "keep the dark at bay." The sea stayed calm for three months—too calm. No storms, no waves higher than a ripple, as if the ocean itself was holding its breath.
Then the letters began to arrive.
They came addressed to me, postmarked from cities I'd never visited: Tokyo, Cape Town, Reykjavik. Each envelope was sealed with bone china wax, the handwriting inside looping and precise, like calligraphy.
"You're the only one who can hear her song," read the first letter. "She's tired of waiting."
Lila found me staring at the latest letter, its words dissolving into red fluid as I held it. "What does it say?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Nothing good," I said, tossing the letter into the fire.
But the next morning, the words reappeared—scrawled in sand outside our door, etched into the cabin's walls, even burned into the soles of my shoes.
"Wake her."
The sea began to rise again, but this time, it was alive. Waves formed faces, their mouths moving in silent screams, and the water carried a faint hum—a song that felt like it was being played inside my skull.
Lila's nightmares worsened. She'd wake screaming, clawing at her skin, convinced that something was inside her. One morning, I found her in the kitchen, a bone china shard pressed to her wrist, blood oozing from a shallow cut.
"I had to check," she said, her voice hollow. "If I'm turning into one of them."
I pulled her into a hug, her body rigid with fear. "You're not. I won't let that happen."
That night, the cabin door creaked open.
Dr. Ellis stood there, her body whole again, her eyes a piercing blue. She wore a dress made of bone china scales, and her hair was braided with tendrils that writhed like snakes.
"I've come to offer you a choice," she said, her voice musical. "Join us, or watch the world drown."
I reached for the dagger, but it was gone—stolen, I realized, by the tendrils that now coiled around my ankles.
Dr. Ellis smiled. "The Deep doesn't want to destroy you. It wants to merge with you. To become whole again."
She stepped closer, and I felt a pull—deep in my chest, where the bead had been.
Lila lunged, tackling Dr. Ellis to the ground. The dagger fell from Dr. Ellis's sleeve, and I grabbed it, pressing the blade to her throat.
"Let us go," I said, my voice shaking.
Dr. Ellis laughed, her body dissolving into tendrils. "You can't kill me. I am the Deep. And I am everywhere."
The tendrils released me, and Dr. Ellis reformed, her smile wider. "You have three days. If you don't join us by the full moon, the Deep will rise. And this time, there will be no stopping it."
She dissolved into the night, her laughter echoing.
Lila and I packed what little we had and fled to the lighthouse, now little more than a crumbling ruin. The sea churned below, its surface glowing with bioluminescent patterns that spelled out "Wake her."
"I'm sorry," I said, staring at the waves. "This is all my fault."
Lila shook her head. "No. The Deep's been here long before you. It's our fault for not seeing it."
She handed me a jar filled with bone china beads—the ones we'd collected over the months. "Maybe these can help. If the Deep's song is in them…"
I took the jar, the beads warm to the touch. "What do you think they do?"
Lila shrugged. "Maybe they're a key. Or a lock."
The full moon rose, its light turning the sea to silver. The beads glowed brighter, their patterns shifting into a map—a map of the ocean floor, with a single glowing dot marking the first kiln.
"We have to go back," I said. "To the kiln. It's the only way to stop this."
Lila nodded, her jaw set. "I'm coming with you."
We took Voss's old boat, its hull now covered in bone china growths. The journey was silent, the sea calm, as if it knew what was coming.
At the kiln, the doors stood open, their interior glowing with a soft red light. Inside, the pedestal held a bone china urn, its lid open.
I approached, my hand trembling.
Inside was a single bone bead, glowing faintly.
"Wake," it whispered.
The ground shook, and tendrils erupted from the walls, wrapping around me.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bead in my chest.
The shadow hesitated, then sighed, a sound that felt like relief.
The tendrils released me, and I fell to my knees.
Lila helped me up, her eyes wide. "What happened?"
I looked at my hands—the scales were gone, replaced by smooth, unmarked skin. The bead in my chest had faded.
"I think… I think the Deep is gone," I said.
But as we turned to leave, a single bone china bead washed ashore, its surface etched with a single word:
"Hunger."