Ocean

Mara Chen leaned against the railing of the research vessel, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the deep blue of the Pacific met the fading orange of the sunset. The salt-laden breeze whipped strands of her dark hair across her face, but she made no move to brush them away. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in the mysteries that lay beneath the gently rolling waves. “You’re gonna turn into a statue if you keep standing there like that, missy,” a gruff voice called from behind her. ...

The wind-whipped spray stung Mira’s eyes as she peered through binoculars at the churning gray sea. No sign of the tagged fish she’d been tracking for weeks. She lowered the lenses with a sigh, her data sheets fluttering in the gale. “Anything?” called Dr. Reeves from the research vessel’s cabin. Mira shook her head, salt-crusted hair whipping across her face. “Nothing. They should be migrating through this channel by now.” ...

The wind howled as Mara Callahan stepped off the small research vessel onto the rocky shore. She squinted against the salt spray, taking in the looming silhouette of the lighthouse that would be her home for the next month. Its weathered white tower stood stark against the gray sky, a lonely sentinel on this remote stretch of coastline. “Welcome to the edge of the world!” Dr. Elena Reyes called out behind her, voice raised over the crashing waves. The expedition leader’s enthusiasm was infectious, despite the gloomy surroundings. ...

The sea was restless that night, its waves crashing against the rocky shore with a fury that seemed to mirror Mara’s own tumultuous emotions. She stood at the base of the lighthouse, her father’s old brass telescope clutched tightly in her hands, scanning the horizon for any sign of distress. The beam from the lighthouse swept across the dark waters, a steady rhythm that had been her lullaby since childhood. ...

The salt-laden wind whipped across the docks of Bristol, carrying with it the cacophony of seagulls and the shouts of sailors preparing to embark on their next voyage. Amidst the chaos, a slender figure in ill-fitting men’s clothing made its way purposefully toward the imposing merchant ship, “Poseidon’s Grace.” Eliza Blackwood tugged nervously at the rough fabric of her borrowed jacket, willing her racing heart to slow. She’d spent the last of her meager savings on this disguise, and everything hinged on her ability to pass as a man. At thirty years old, she was taking an enormous risk, but the alternative – a loveless marriage to a man twice her age – was unthinkable. ...

Naia’s fins sliced through the warm currents as she raced toward the heart of the reef. Her blue scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight filtering down from the surface, but today their usual luster was dulled by worry. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the water, taste it in the subtle shifts of salinity on her tongue. As she approached the vast expanse of coral that formed the living foundation of her undersea home, Naia’s heart sank. The vibrant colors she’d known since childhood had faded to sickly browns and grays. Entire sections lay barren, the skeletal remains of once-thriving colonies now ghostly and lifeless. ...