Tide's Kiss on the Shore

Coral's song was very soft at first.

As soft as the first time she asked Lu Wenchao in the net if that was a welcome mat. As soft as the first time she ate candy and said her mouth was flooding with tide. As soft as when, after losing a piece of her song, she still wrote crooked characters on paper: I am not a goldfish, nor an exhibit.

Then, the song slowly grew bright.

Brighter than the hunter's light array, brighter than Lady White's pearls, and brighter than all the imprisoned eyes in the Rift Tide.

It was not a complete Tide-Keeping Song.

It had been shortened by the silver hook's poison, torn apart by the light array, and she herself had cut a piece from it to save Lu Wenchao. But precisely because it was incomplete, it did not plunge straight into the Rift Tide like a key—instead, it slipped through the cracks of the door, searching for other broken songs.

Songs in bottles. Songs in lanterns. Songs in pearls.

All the nameless voices heard the sea at that moment.

Lady White's face changed.

"No." She reached out to grab Coral. "Your song belongs to me!"

Coral shook her head.

She could not speak in full sentences, but she said it clearly in her song.

A song is not a collection.

Neither is love.

Lu Wenchao pressed his pocket watch into the crack of the Rift Tide's door. The hunter's blood contract was reversed. Silver characters rose from the seabed, coiling one by one toward Lady White. Those characters had once read: purchase, transport,保管, intercept. Now they read backwards: return, repay, release.

Each character cut through her pearl light.

Lady White screamed. Her young face twisted like a reflection in rippling water. She reached for a fragment of the broken song, but it slipped through her fingers, transforming into a tiny blue fish that swam toward Coral's song.

More broken songs awoke.

They were no longer docile. They no longer revolved around her. They shattered pearls, broke through glass, and carried all the nameless merfolk back to the sea. Lady White's youthful appearance peeled away bit by bit, until only a person reaching out before an empty display case remained.

"I only wanted to keep her." Lady White's voice suddenly became very soft. "She saved me. Why wouldn't she stay?"

Coral looked at her, and for a moment her song held a trace of pity.

Being saved is not a reason to possess.

Neither is being loved.

The Rift Tide shook violently.

The reverse contract could only hold for a short while. Without its key, the Black Tide began to devour everything it could devour. Half of Lu Wenchao's body was entangled by silver characters, and the pocket watch burned so hot it nearly seared through his palm. By the stone pillar, Lu Qi raised his hand, and the last blue light scattered from his body.

"Wenchao."

Lu Wenchao turned back.

His father looked clearer than before—as though a decade of the Black Tide had finally receded a little from his eyes. He was still pale, still exhausted, half his body nearly translucent, but in that moment, he was truly Lu Qi.

"Go back to the shore."

"Dad!"

"This time I remember your name." Lu Qi smiled. "Wenchao, go home."

Lu Wenchao swam toward him.

But Lu Qi used his last strength to push him away. The blue light transformed into a current, sweeping Lu Wenchao upward. Aunt Lan and the Tide-Keepers rewove their web of song, pulling the side gate of Tidepool Bay back into safe waters.

Coral's body grew increasingly translucent.

She was not being devoured by the Rift Tide—she was being lifted by all the returning songs, like a shell merging into the sound of the tide. Her tail scales lit up again, then slowly dispersed. When Lu Wenchao saw this, the bloodshot in his eyes nearly exploded.

He lunged over and finally grabbed her hand.

"You said we were going home."

Coral looked at him, her eyes curving.

With her fading voice, so faint it was almost inaudible: "I am… going back."

"Not like this."

She shook her head.

There are many ways to go home. Back to Tidepool Bay. Back to the sea. Back into the song. Back to where all imprisoned voices are finally free. She did not yet know how to explain this to Lu Wenchao, so she could only press the last shell into his palm.

It was the little shell she had always kept hidden, containing a small piece of paper she had slipped inside when she first learned to write. On it were only a few crooked words: Wait for my reply.

Lu Wenchao clutched the shell tightly, as if clutching her hand.

"Coral."

She smiled.

The tide surged and kissed the shore.

The moment the Rift Tide closed, all the blue lights in White Whale Town went out at once. The aquarium glass shattered across the floor. The hunter's light array on the sea wall billowed black smoke. The pearl earrings crumbled to dust. Surrounded by broken songs, Lady White sank at last into a Black Tide like an empty glass display case, never to make a sound again.

Lu Wenchao was swept toward the shore by the current.

The last thing he saw was Lu Qi standing at the Rift Tide's door, raising a hand toward him. Just like many years ago when he sent him off to school, or every time he taught him to tie a knot before setting out to sea.

By dawn, White Whale Town was in shambles.

The aquarium glass was all shattered, the hunter's light array extinguished, and the sea was calm as if nothing had happened. Xiao Man sat on the steps of the old school, holding a group of frightened children in her arms, still gripping the candy she hadn't been willing to eat. Jiang Yue stood beneath the lighthouse, her pipe soaked wet, cursing a very soft curse—then wiped her eyes with her hand.

Lu Wenchao knelt on the sand.

In his palm was only a shell.

He pressed the shell to his ear.

For a long, long time, from within came Coral's very soft laugh.

Like the first time she asked if she could give back the welcome mat.

And then, no more sound.