They always told her to be wary of the ocean, of the two great seas that surrounded her homeland. For most of her childhood, she regarded the sea with an aura of mystery and reverence. She knew about the dangers of drowning beneath the waves, and of swimming too far out. The sea called out to her regardless of the warnings passed from parent to child, ancestor to descendant. It was a strange life, she knew, but she could not accept any other form of existence.
When she first entered the sea, it was out of boredom. Something about the mundanity of life, or was it the couscous she had that day? The moment she stepped into the sea, it was as if she had found a purpose in her life. She knew that most people found their purpose later in life, yet she wanted that purpose now. Thinking back on it, it must have been that childish instinct to have everything right then and there. That explained it well enough. That cerebral purpose entered her mind the moment her knees were submerged in the water. Its intent strengthened and moulded itself in her mind as she released herself from the soft wet sand. As her hair streamed around her, she found a watery world waiting beneath her. She wanted to explore longer, and so she returned time and time again. Soon, her mama found out and reluctantly explained everything, especially about Baba.
Now, her bare feet wriggled into the warm sand. She hated shoes. They were uncomfortable, and she felt a tingling sensation when she wore them that itched and numbed her. Here, she didn't have to wear shoes. The green waves reached as far inland as where her hair trailed off. The ocean was green, a rich green that she would observe in faraway pictures of similarly faraway places. She had no desire to travel the world, only to explore the sea's depths to her heart's desire. The sea, ever the fickle one, had become more fickle and capricious over the years. Calamities birthed from its depths had devastated the coastlines of many countries that bordered it. The ocean too had become treacherous, driving sailors and pilots alike to familiar haunts, away from the chaos of an open ocean. It was different in her dreams, the sky a darkly hued violet and as peaceful as the gentle waves underneath her, just as she made them.
She stood up, just as the waves rushed in and receded just as quickly. The footprints she left behind were small but sturdy, every step measured and controlled. Her feet picked up more and more, and soon she was swept into the rhythm of the sea, those pounding waves and the call of a long lost heart. A dancer's body, they told her, a dancer's body fit for the movement of the drums, a shikha's body with hips and feet to shuffle, a shikha for the rolling waves and the tumultuous tides.
One day, something else called. In a trance, she followed its desperate calls and into the depths she dove. Through the seaweed and the darting schools of fish, she found it. It fit into the palm of her hand and seemed to be lost. They were both lost, so she stayed there with it. Everyone wanted companionship, she thought, so she gave it her friendship and time. In return, it gave her abilities beyond her dreams.
When they pulled her out of the water, it had been five hours since she had been swept away into the sea's embrace.
She had been young when the Calamity hit the shores, sweeping away many, including the man who would have been her baba. If a Calamity hit again, a Calamity brutal enough to end the world in a swift and decisive stroke, would she embrace it like the sea embraced her all those years ago? She had always thought that her purpose was clear. Now, the amulet she held in her hand had given her more to think about.
Here was her home. Her home was torn apart by a Calamity bringing waves the size of which she could not fathom, dragging hapless animals and people into its hungry maw. There were bodies broken upon the sand. Whether she knew them, she refused to ascertain. The tainted knowledge would only have burdened her steps more. She walked slowly, looking for signs of life. Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she knew that there were none here, and none anywhere else no matter how far she walked or swam. Farther away, the great shadow of a cargo ship run aground created a foreboding atmosphere. Splinters of wood were scattered across the beach. The water seeped between her feet, reaching further than it should have been. In this desolate landscape, the wind tore at her face, wild and free. The choppy waves forbade passage to her, so she was stuck amidst the ruined coastline. Her amulet trilled in her hand. She carried all of the dashed hopes and unrealised dreams of this world, but she wished that she never did.
What the amulet had revealed to her...it changed everything. Looking back at the deluge that cost so many lives before and after...nothing was the same, and yet somehow...her purpose was clearer now.
Save the world from the Calamities.
In the early summer, tourists migrated to a small village close to the Atlantic Ocean. It was nice, the sea making for a mood-setting atmosphere. The locals were charming, some pleasant enough and able to speak the many languages of these tourists. Others were...others were others.
The village was nameless. Either that, or there was a name long forgotten to the river of time. Regardless, the community was tight-knit. The population was small, roughly within the range of a hundred or two hundred. They were close to the capital, enough that a decent number of the younger population had visited and found the capital or their village wanting. That was not what attracted the local and foreign visitors here.
It was the dancers. A small subset of the population were dancers, ranging from wise middle-aged women to young adults in the blossom of their youth. They were more of an attraction for foreigners than those who lived in the country. Everyone was used to it by this point in time. Most of them were their sisters or daughters.
Today, all were gathered around a raised platform set up for showcasing the dancers. The musicians took the stage first, setting up their drums and kemanjeh. The crowd shuffled in anticipation. A young man was watching the dancers going up the stage, grumbling about some of the leering men. He relaxed when the performance started.
The performance started with the shuffling of feet, the dance enticing those with their melodious vocals and swaying hips. The dancers were moved by the drums' beat, carrying the harmony of some long-forgotten past, back when there was only the constant sea, the mountains, and the sand. The stage moved with the dancers' hips. Their singing was enchanting to the visitors, as some broke formation and shimmied to the floor, slowly undulating to a standing position again. A dancer whipped her waist-length hair now and then, flashing a smile to the charmed audience. Finally, with the end of the swaying sleeves and the shimmies across the stage, the performance ended. As the dancers shuffled off, another dancer in green took the stage. This one was young, with half of her hair covering her face and a large purple belt hanging on her hips. She took one look at the crowd and steadied herself. She listened, heard the start of the drums, and her bare feet leapt for the stage.
She danced like the world was going to end tomorrow, giving her performance a finesse and power unseen before. Her feet swept across the stage like waves overtaking the land. The gold jewellery entangled in her hair clanked and mingled together with each movement of her head as she whipped it fiercely, scattering light everywhere. Her arms pulled her enthralled audience into her performance as her chest rippled outwards and inwards, drowning them in an undertow. She shimmied across the stage, bringing the audience to a crescendo with her liquid footwork on the wooden stage. The large belt on her hips bounced back as she belly dropped from the stage and slowly ascended upwards like a rising wave, just as she practised for five years. The green caftan waved in between each spin as the young dancer rotated around herself, back and forth and back and forth, just like her forbearers. At the very last second, she swept away her sleeves and unveiled a sparkling amulet shining with seawater. The young man got up from his seat and was about to say something when the shikha whispered some words and the stage was enveloped in sea-green light.
Once everyone was done, they found that all of them from those at the very edge of the crowd to the ones standing closest to the stage were soaked in seawater, some of whom had started to leave to spit out the aforementioned water. On the stage was the young dancer in a sea-green outfit that flowed around her. A choker hung around her neck with heart-shaped sections floating in a nonexistent wind. Her bare feet touched the stage, and she danced further. That billowing outfit wowed and dazzled the crowd with its wave-like movements, except for the young man who held his head in his hands. For her finale, she summoned two balls of water beside her. Those two balls then diffused into shining streams as she rotated in quick succession, diving with her and encircling her waist. All applauded for the young dancer once she was finished and the water fell onto the stage. She waved back and walked off the stage to the young man's disappointed face.
"What were you thinking?! Mama hid the truth from you for a reason, a very good reason I might add! You can't pull out this trick every time! What if this gets posted to social media?"
"Relax Samir, I'm sure we are safe and secure here. It is only used for one or two shows." She stood up. "I'm responsible for myself. Anything that happens because of my actions is on me."
Samir grumbled and facepalmed. "Can you change so no one else notices?"
The dancer mumbled something underneath her breath and detransformed. She strolled alongside Samir. "How is your pen pal?"
"He's doing well. Being back in Lisbon and unwinding is doing him good. He said my Portuguese is getting better." Samir beamed. Samir with his stern face softened by his sister.
She smiled. "That's nice—Huh?"
SNAP. A camera clicked to the surprise of the girl and Samir.
"Hello." The girl, despite her prowess at dancing, never had any admirers.
A face poked behind the camera, eyes staring. "Hello to you too."
"May I ask why you are taking pictures of me?" She looked at the camera, sleek and shiny. "Can I see them?"
It was a boy and his camera, silver and steady. "I was watching you dance today. It was...beautiful. I thought about taking some action shots, but I couldn't find any good angles. I thought that once the performance was over, I could ask you for pictures...I should have asked first."
She waved her hand. "It's fine. What's your name?"
"I'm Khalid, I live in Casablanca like the movie!" The girl was confused. "Oh sorry, I'm used to introducing myself this way. I like old American movies, and my roommate does as well."
"Where did you live?"
"I was studying at a private school in America until last month when the school year ended. I've been touring all of Morocco until I have to go back to school." He clicked on his camera. "These are the photos of you."
Samir approached him, towering over him like a statue carved from hard stone. The girl watched as Khalid scrolled through his gallery. There were blurred shots of her, and the other dancers, and clearer ones of her. Her with those eyes, those sea green eyes that enchanted and enthralled, or so her mama said.
"Do you like them?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"What's your name?"
Samir gave her that look, but Khalid, Khalid with the pleading eyes and the sleek and shiny camera deserved an answer. "My name is Nahla."