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PART I

Defilement of Innocence

There is something to be said about a dark salty sea and its ire. What is it about water that takes life yet brings it forth? The pale blue eye of the moon watches cautiously. Demons wait with bated breath. Wander warily, for the night and the sea conspires for your soul.

ONE

A moment ago I was alive.

And now as quick as a heartbeat, I flail through the sky.

Above me, a cliff rises in a jagged black crown framed against the indigo-bruised night. The words toll through my skull, loud as the thunder that rolls around me: a moment ago I was alive.

Glancing below shows an angry sea awaiting. A visceral fear tears through me. My heart races within my chest. My mind is a riot, trying to figure out what to do.

Someone had thrown me.

Marisa.

Marisa…from where? Where had I come from?

I’m grinding my teeth so hard, the taste of copper floods my mouth. Nausea follows, climbing in my stomach.

The cold night’s air whistles around me, rekindling a soft memory of fireworks on a late summer’s day. This isn’t summer though. This is an icy chill belonging to winter that perseverates into my bones.

My body slams into a harsh swell of wind, sending me into somersaults.

The last thing I remember is falling asleep, strong hands wrapped around me, of cold ripples spreading along my skin and then, darkness.

The wind settles and I know I’m arriving closer to the water, I straighten, locking every muscle in my body.

Without hesitation, the cold claims me, and I know two things: I am Marisa, and someone has tried to kill me.

I hit the sea with a violent splash. Water surges over me, shockingly frigid as if the sea resents my arrival; a predator realizing their prey isn’t as tasty as they’d liked.

Churning waves curl around my body, dragging me down, deeper and deeper, into their endless, gnashing teeth of foam. On instinct, I fight upward, guided only by a thin beam of moonlight that shivers across the surface like a beckoning hand. When I break through, I gasp with a sharpness; it feels like knives in my throat.

The water is black as spilled ink. Twinkling stars fill the sky, and the moon appears larger than I remember, still and watchful.

Fear coils at my ankles and pulls with cold insistence. Looking ahead, I notice a towering cliffside dotted with soaring trees hugging a lonely house; an arboreal prison.

Again, the water pulls me down. In the depths below, all is strangely peaceful. Silver ribbons drift through the gloom and circle me with gentle curiosity.

How did I get here? My mind answers with a flash of dark hair, sharp eyes and a grim mouth.

The sea comes for me again, giving no respite.

Crash.

Salt fills my mouth.

Crash.

The sea roars around me, an ancient drum beating in rhythm with the moon. Each swell drags me under. Each resurfacing reveals the faint outline of the same cliffside.

I need to get there.

Thrusting my arms forward, I strain against every wave, failing with each attempt to overcome the swell.