Woven into the Waves (Seafolk of Starbron #1)

Prologue

Lir

Fire is burning across the water.

The light itself just a match of orange flame flickering above the plumes of mist that divide the dark sky and sea. Yet, for how small an artificial star—how thunderous are the screams and screeching that spiral from it below the water.

Going under the surface, I think that I will be safe from its presence, but even when I can no longer see that orange flame, I can still feel its burn.

Its cry claws through the sponge interior of bone and rolls down the spiral track of my conch shaped inner ear to where it rattles around in molten musket ball paths, searing the inside of my skull.

A sound so sharp it is not actually heard in your ears, but instead vibrating in your teeth and melting out from the back of your eyes.

That looming combustible shadow wrings me out like a worn rag, so tightly twisted at each end that I do not know up from down.

My internal compass smashed into uncountable shards that are being lost into the waves.

In this storm they are more foam than water, and are further frothed from the violent thrashing of my own body.

Tossed in the waves I am abandoned by hope, by all the old Gods, and by the sea itself.

Except for a soft cry that rings out like silver bells strung along by a precession of giant siphonophores. A symphony I have no choice but to follow, no choice but to fall at the feet of its musicians for a moment of peace from the upheaved currents.

They call to me through the chaos and drag me out of the crashing waves.