“I do? Who?”
“A curious young girl who passed on a long time ago.” My eyes softened. Alma thankfully continued, sparing me from finding the “right” words. “And yes, it does sound cruel. It is, in a sense, but it’s also very beautiful. Spiritual—to find that connection between your soul and Thalassa. And if the young lady is indeed a Water Nymph, a melodic wail is heard, similar to the haunting cry of a humpback whale. The echo pierces your ears, vibrates your body, but I swear to you, Delia, the moment the sound fades, you immediately long for it—weep for it. And then the shifted daughter emerges triumphant—a Water Nymph, with thick, blue-grey skin, large eyes, razor teeth, and webbed hands and feet. Their sight is beyond marvellous—dangerous, too. A grand feast is held later that evening to celebrate a successful Confirmation.”
I may have stared at her in silent judgment—at the way she beamed—then asked, “What happens if the Confirmation is not successful. Do the daughters always drown to death if they’re not Water Nymphs?”
“No, not always. Most drain their daughter’s lungs and accept them as humans.”
Thank the gods. “Well, it sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“It is. Water Wielders also start manifesting their powers at a similar age. I cannot tell if Blake is a Wielder or not.”
“You’re a Water Wielder, then?”
“Yes, which means there’s a strong possibility that Blake is a Wielder, too. Only goddess knows if we’ll ever find out. Not that it matters, though.”
My lips pursed. “What’s it like? To wield water,” I asked, my voice low.
“Oh! It was the most fascinating thing,” Alma exhaled, her face blushing. A grin took over her face. “It felt like a surreal connection—an invisible yet tangible thread between my soul and water. A thought, a pull and a push, and it moved as I wished. It felt empowering, like a puppet master in full control of its puppet’s strings.” Her eyes gleamed. “Parting the sea was my favourite. Every month, Norrin and I, we would take Blake to Crystal Bay. We used to go for long strolls deep into the ocean.” Alma shook her head. “How can something feel like yesterday and a million years ago at once? I still remember how the wet sand felt beneath my bare feet, as Norrin and I cleared a path through the sea. Blake used to point and laugh at the fish swimming around us, above us. Thalassa drown me, what I wouldn’t give to go back to those times.”
“That truly sounds wonderful,” I murmured, wondering why her husband did not flee with his wife and their only son. But I didn’t want to pry, so I asked something else. I asked her the same questions I’d been asking around the village all morning. “Alma, I—there are answers I seek. By any chance, do you happen to know anyone else with the surname Wildheart?”
She appeared focused, as if trying to flip through all of her past memories. “No, sorry, nobody comes to mind. It’s a lovely surname, Wildheart.”
“Or perhaps you’ve heard about an accident that occurred in Ramel? In Kalnar. The parents died but the daughter survived.”
Her gaze turned puzzled. “No, sorry, nothing comes to mind. Do you have any first names?”
“No, just Wildheart.”
“Sorry, dear, you’re the only Wildheart I know. May I ask what kind of accident it was?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Delia, did something happen to—”
Marshen and Blake returned, bringing with them sacks of logs and a ruckus. They lit the hearth and fed the stove. I poured them tea—servants’ habits. Then I helped Alma chop vegetables for the octopus stew.
“How do you guys catch your fish?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, with the strong currents, it must be difficult to fish. I imagine no one goes in or even near those waters.”
“Oh, no. But farther north, near the waterfall, there are natural pools. Quiet waters, shielded by boulders. Our fishermen set their nets there. It’s one of the only two places on this island where we can swim. Ironic, isn’t it? You know, since we’re Ilmans trapped on an island with so many restrictions.” Alma added a bay leaf and covered the simmering pot. “There, it should be ready in a couple of hours.”
That meant we had time on our hands…
“Marsh?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you come with me? I need to speak with you.”
Marshen raised a brow. “Uh, sure,” he said, following me to the door.
“Thanks, Alma, we’ll be back in a few hours,” I voiced from over my shoulder.
“Bye for now, darling.”
