The sea wasn't angry.
That was the thought that wouldn't leave me alone.
Anger was loud. Violent. Obvious. Storms ripping through the coast, waves smashing boats like toys—that was anger. That was destruction without purpose.
But what had happened to Hope?
That felt… targeted.
I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it might confess something if I stared long enough. The dorm was quiet in that heavy way, like even the walls were holding their breath.
Hope hadn't been dragged under.
She'd been taken.
By someone.
And then brought back.
The sea didn't do that. Not randomly. Not ever.
I stood up and paced, hands running through my hair, my mind replaying every detail she'd told us. The way she could breathe. The way the water opened. The city—structured, alive, full of people who weren't hiding.
Civilizations didn't exist without power.
And power didn't exist without someone sitting at the top.
A king.
My stomach twisted.
I'd spent years thinking the ocean was a monster. A force that took my mother and didn't look back. Something cruel and empty and endless.
But monsters didn't build cities.
They didn't keep order.
They didn't hesitate.
Hope said he warned her.
Not threatened. Not punished.
Warned.
I grabbed my jacket and didn't bother locking the door. I didn't even fully know where I was going—just that I couldn't sit still with this in my head.
Hope opened her door before I knocked properly.
Like she already knew.
"You know something," she said quietly.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "Yeah. I think I do."
She stepped aside, and I went in.
Her room felt different now. Like it had weight. Like the sea had brushed against it and left something behind.
I didn't sit.
"I don't think the sea is reacting to you because it wants to hurt you," I said.
Her shoulders tensed.
"I think it's reacting because someone else wants control."
She looked up sharply.
"The city you saw," I continued. "It wasn't hiding from you. It let you in. And then he told you to stay away from the throne."
Hope's fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves. "He said it was his."
"Exactly," I said. "People who are secure in their power don't say that."
Silence fell between us, thick and charged.
"The sea reacts when you're near," I went on. "The same way it reacted around my mom. Not violently at first. Almost like… pressure. Like something trying to push you back into place."
Hope swallowed. "What place?"
I met her eyes.
"The one you're not supposed to remember."
Her breath hitched.
"I think the king is corrupt," I said quietly. "And I think the sea knows it."
She shook her head slowly. "But why me?"
I hesitated.
"Because kings don't panic over strangers," I said. "They panic over replacements."
The word hung there.
Replacement.
Hope's face drained of color.
"You're saying—" she started, then stopped. "No. He hates me. He said I wasn't welcome."
"Hate isn't the opposite of fear," I said. "It's usually a cover for it."
She pressed a hand to her chest, right over the pendant. "The water felt… wrong around him. Like it was holding itself back."
That sent a chill down my spine.
"Then that means the sea isn't loyal to him," I said. "It's loyal to the throne."
Hope laughed weakly. "That's not comforting."
"No," I agreed. "But it explains why it hasn't killed you."
Her eyes flicked to mine. "You think it can't?"
"I think it won't," I said. "Not if you're… important."
She stood up suddenly, pacing now, the same way I'd been earlier. "He said I wasn't allowed near it. That I didn't belong."
"People lie when the truth threatens them," I said.
She stopped.
Turned.
"What if I don't want any of this?" she asked. "What if I don't want a throne or a kingdom or a sea that keeps watching me like I'm a mistake?"
Something in my chest tightened.
"Then that," I said gently, "might be exactly why it wants you."
We didn't speak for a long moment.
Outside, the wind shifted. Not strong enough to be a warning. Just enough to be noticed.
The sea, reminding us it was still there.
"I don't think it wants you alive," I said finally. "But I don't think it wants you dead either."
Hope hugged her arms around herself. "So what does it want?"
I shook my head. "I don't know."
Then, quieter, I added, "But I think it's waiting."
She looked at me, fear and something else tangled in her eyes.
"Waiting for what?"
"For the king to fall," I said.
And for the first time since my mother disappeared—
The sea didn't feel like an enemy.
It felt good.
It felt like a witness.