I nod softly, holding out the necklace on my palm. “This is yours.”
Brown eyes grow wide, as she reaches for it, gently brushing my skin with her finger tips. “You found it,” she murmurs.
“I lost it.” The confession feels heavy on my tongue, but it needs to be said. Odi deserves to have the whole truth, not pieces of it.
Her brow pinches as she looks up at me. “What do you mean?”
My shoulders drop, head hanging lower. “I lost it in the kraken attack.”
“You had it all that time?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
The truth hangs heavy between us. A wall building brick by brick, but I won’t let it stand. I can’t. Not after all we’ve been through. I love her, and she loves me.
I reach for her, pulling her closer. She doesn’t hesitate and my heart rejoices in the small win. “I did. I’m sorry Odelia. When I first found it, I didn’t think it could be yours.”
She huffs softly. “Why? Because I was a Viper?”
My head dips lower. “Yes. But things changed—once you told me that it belonged to your mother, I wanted to give it to you. But it was too late. The ocean had claimed it once again. And now it’s returned it to you. In the end I was the one that got in the way. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes soften. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
I lean down to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. “It's you and me now, little doe. No space for hidden truths.”
She pulls back. “Who was that? In the water before.”
My eyes search the horizon. Golden waves glitter as the sun sinks deeper. The question digs into my chest. I swallow hard, salt thick on my tongue, and finally answer. “It was my mother. She left me this.”
Odi’s breath hitches as I hold up the small blue bottle with a rolled up piece of parchment inside. I work the cork freewith trembling fingers. The paper slips through the neck easily, tumbling into my palm.
Carefully, I unfold it. The edges are worn, but it's untouched by water. It has a faint scent of the yellow blossoms that grow on the rocks by the ocean. I can’t help but smile. Mother always had a way of making everything so beautiful.
Odi leans in closer as I begin to read aloud. My voice wavers, but the words carry.
My son,
Words cannot express how I have mourned for the family we should have been. Your father always warned me I wandered too far, trusted too much—and when the worst happened, it was all I could do to hold onto the love tucked away in my memories.
By the time I escaped, you were older, and I was more ocean than woman. Existence as an elemental is . . . complicated. Parts of my mind had retreated to endure things I’ll not waste space burdening you with now.
For years I’ve been formless, and the sea has cradled me. She has shared your journey, your persistence, your hope. I know every league you have sailed. Everything you have fought for. The grief you have spilled into the sea. I cannot be with you in the flesh, but I am with you, always.
And I am so proud to call you my son.
This necklace is for Odelia—it belongs to her. I have known few who are worthy, and believe fewer still could capture your heart. She is the land to your ocean.
Mother xx
P.S. Tell your father the blue kelp will bloom early this year.
P.P.S. I’ll not have the strength to reach out again for some time. If you find yourself with little footprints by yours on the sand, be sure to let them wander into the water. I’ll do my best to sayhello.
The letters blur as tears well in my eyes, stinging sharper than salt. I bite down hard, but it doesn’t stop the single tear that slips free, tracing a hot line down my cheek.
She’s alive.
Not whole, not unharmed, but alive, clinging fast to her memories the way I’ve gripped onto hope. How long had it taken her to write this letter, wrestling against her weakened shift? Had someone helped her? Where has the ocean kept her, and why can’t it bring her home?
I’ll not have the strength to reach out again for some time.
