The house felt too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind—more like the kind where even the walls were listening.
Seraphina had gone downstairs to make tea. She said it casually, like it didn't matter, but we all knew it did. This wasn't a conversation for everyone. This was one of those conversations.
Xylan stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the sea like it had personally offended him.
I sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the piece of seaweed in my palm. It had started to dry now, curling in on itself, but it still felt wrong. Like proof I wasn't ready to have.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Xylan finally said, quietly,
"You said you saw something down there."
I looked up. "Yeah."
"A city," I added. "Buildings. Lights. Streets. It wasn't… empty. It wasn't just water."
His jaw tightened.
"That's not possible," he said, but his voice didn't sound convinced.
"I know how it sounds," I said quickly. "I thought I was dreaming too. But it felt real. Too real."
He turned away from the window.
"I hate the ocean," he said suddenly.
The words came out sharp, like he hadn't meant to say them at all.
I stayed quiet. Let him talk.
"When I was one," he continued, "there was a storm. The worst one the coast had seen in years."
"I still remember this one part of my life very clearly."
I could almost see it—the dark sky, the wind, the waves smashing against the rocks.
"My mom wouldn't come inside," he said. "Everyone else was panicking. Boats were being dragged out. Sirens everywhere. But she just stood there, watching the sea."
I frowned. "She wasn't scared?"
Xylan shook his head. "Not of the storm. She was scared of something else."
He let out a small, bitter laugh.
"At least… that's what I think now."
I leaned forward slightly.
"People always said she loved the ocean," he went on. "That she trusted it. That she was 'one with the sea' or whatever."
His fingers clenched into fists.
"But that wasn't true."
I swallowed.
"She hated it," he said. "She used to tell me never to go near it alone. Ever. She'd grab my hand so tight whenever we passed the shore. Like she was afraid it would take me too."
The room felt colder.
"That night," he said, slower now, "she told me to stay inside. Locked the door. Told me not to open it for anyone."
His voice dropped.
"She said, 'No matter what you hear.'"
My chest tightened.
"And then," he finished, "she went out."
Silence.
"They said she drowned," Xylan said. "That the waves were too strong. That she slipped."
He shook his head again.
"But she was a strong swimmer. Everyone knew that."
I thought about the file I'd found in the library. The reports. The dates.
"Xylan," I said carefully, "I found something."
He looked at me.
"A file. Sixteen years ago. About the storm."
His eyes widened just a little.
"It said your mother was already missing before the worst of it hit," I continued. "Before anyone else was even in danger."
He went still.
"They wrote it off," I said. "Said it was chaos. Confusion. But… it didn't add up."
Xylan laughed again, but this time there was no humor in it.
"So I wasn't crazy."
"No," I said softly. "You weren't."
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"I always thought the sea killed her," he admitted."Like it was angry or something. Like it wanted to take something from me."
I hesitated. Then said the part I hadn't wanted to say out loud.
"When I was underwater," I said, "the man who took me… he didn't say the sea wanted me dead."
Xylan froze.
"He said the king didn't want me alive."
Slowly, Xylan looked up.
"…King?"
"I don't know who he is," I said. "But someone is ruling down there. Someone in control."
I took a breath.
"And the ocean," I added, "reacts to both of us the same way."
His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"It pulls," I said. "It listens. Like it recognizes something. Like it's been waiting."
The air between us felt heavy.
"So," Xylan said slowly, "whatever took my mother… isn't just the ocean."
"No," I said. "It's something in it."
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Seraphina appeared in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs. She paused when she saw our faces.
"…I'll leave this here," she said gently, placing the tea down. "Call me if you need me."
Then she left again, quietly closing the door.
Xylan stared at the mugs for a second.
"Great," he muttered. "Life-changing news and chamomile tea."
I almost laughed.
He picked up his mug but didn't drink it.
"If there's a city down there," he said, more to himself than to me, "if there's a king…"
He looked at me.
"Then my mom didn't just disappear."
"No," I said.
"She was taken," he finished.
The sea crashed softly outside, like it was pretending not to hear.
And deep down, I knew one thing for sure—
Whatever lived beneath the waves
hadn't finished with either of us yet.