Turning Tides

Chapter Six: Sinking Spirits

Malia wasn't sure why, but ever since she became a water spirit, she managed to have the best sleep of her life. Maybe there was something in the water; Beatrice always raved about its magical properties. Or maybe it was like how the sounds of the ocean would lull people to sleep, except she was actually in the ocean. Or maybe it was because she was, well, dead.

Whatever the reason, Malia always found herself routinely waking up well-rested and refreshed in Okeanos's lodgings. And while the gray rock walls and plain sponge bed weren't exactly cozy, she supposed it was on par with her nights on the old couch in her lab.

That was what she thought until one morning when a loud bellow echoed within her room.

"What the hell was that?" Malia exclaimed, more as an outlet for her shock than a request for answers.

As it turned out, both purposes were fulfilled a few seconds later, preceded by incessant pounding at her door.

"Malia, wake up!" Beatrice shouted from the other side. "That was the conch!"

At first, Malia's mind jumped to her middle school English class; it took another moment for her to remember her water spirit lessons.

She swore as she scrambled out of bed, quickly swapping out her baggy clothes for fitted, streamlined attire before rushing outside.

Unsurprisingly, Beatrice was ready. Unexpectedly, her garments were also fitted, but unlike Malia's, hers had long sleeves and pant legs. They were a complete contrast from the loose clothing she normally selected, and at the visual, Malia briefly froze in shock before regaining her bearings. If the sound of the conch resulted in that dramatic change, things had to be serious.

They joined the bustle of water spirits that glided down the hall. Even after a little over a month, Malia had yet to swim alongside that many others, and she tensed at the thought of accidentally embarrassing herself with her inexperience. Thankfully, she and Beatrice quickly made it out into the open, and Malia couldn't help but take a liberating "breath"—that is, simply going through the motions of breathing out of familiarity's sake.

Outside, Okeanos was alive with activity. Crowds swam throughout the city, deftly avoiding others with practiced movements. A few younger spirits stayed pressed to the sides of buildings, watching the commotion; one group held onto a small dog that seemed eager to chase after everyone that passed. Most spirits gathered in the city square: a central clearing of smooth stone amidst the towering architecture. When Malia neared, she couldn't help but stare at the assortment of people that awaited her.

It took her a moment to remember they were in the Atlantic Ocean, and the spirits that resided there were not just from the Americas, Africa, and Europe, but they were from different time periods as well. While they all shared the same seafoam green-tinted skin and radiant blue eyes, they each had their own defining traits.

A few had hints of traditional jewelry and tattoos adorning their persons, signs of their identity that both death and time could never take from them. Some ignored the recommended streamlined clothing, electing instead to keep their garments of multi-layered pirate attire or outdated navy uniforms. Several were older in appearance, but their steady postures and bright eyes gave them an air of youthfulness. Others were mere children, but their focused and determined expressions indicated that they had years of skill and experience that Malia lacked.

"At least pretend like you're paying attention," Beatrice whispered.

Malia guiltily turned ahead.

Four spirits were perched on a boulder in the center of the square, each equidistant apart and speaking with the crowd directly before them. While the one before Malia spoke English, the others sounded like they were using other languages.