Four days after leaving The Singing Cliffs, we arrived at a place called The Pearl Banks.
I do not think I have enough words for it.
My homeland is surrounded by islands.
I grew up beside the ocean.
I know the sound of waves.
I know the smell of salt carried through open windows at night.
I know what sunlight looks like across shallow water.
And yet—
This place still felt unreal to me.
The shoreline curved endlessly beneath the sky, covered in pale sand mixed with broken shells and scattered pearls worn smooth by the sea.
Under sunlight, the entire coast shimmered softly.
Not bright enough to hurt the eyes.
Just enough to make the world feel lighter.
The ocean carried colors I could not settle on.
Turquoise near the shore.
Deep sapphire farther out.
Clear enough that coral formations and drifting sea grass remained visible beneath the water.
Palm trees lined the coast beneath silver-green leaves that moved constantly in the sea wind.
Behind them were low hills covered in pale flowers that bent gently whenever the breeze passed through.
Nothing here felt harsh.
Even the sunlight seemed softer somehow.
By midday, we stopped near a place called the Lagoon of Mirrors.
I understood the name immediately.
The water was impossibly still.
So clear and reflective that the sky beneath my feet looked as real as the one above my head.
Clouds drifted across the surface slowly.
For several moments, I genuinely could not tell where the reflection ended.
Small islands rested near the center of the lagoon with white flowers growing beside leaning palm trees.
Bright fish moved beneath the surface like floating fragments of color suspended in glass.
Some of the caravan members rested nearby while others cleaned equipment or washed clothes near the warmer edges of the water.
Ryn remained near the shore.
Watching quietly while I walked farther into the lagoon.
The water reached just below my knees.
Cool in some places.
Warm in others.
I remember laughing once after nearly slipping against smooth stone beneath the surface.
Ryn smiled when she saw it.
Not surprised.
Just quietly amused.
It felt strangely easy being there.
As if nobody expected anything from anyone for a little while.
Seasong Halfeet merchants had set up small cloth tents near the edge of the lagoon.
They looked similar to other Halfeet I had seen before, though their clothing carried more shells, beads, and bright coastal colors woven into the fabric.
Most of them seemed incapable of staying quiet for more than several seconds.
Even while brewing tea, they continued telling stories.
One elderly woman insisted she once traded with a sea spirit disguised as a fisherman.
Nobody around her seemed interested in questioning whether it was true.
Tea was shared freely between travelers.
Light.
Sweet.
With a faint floral taste I could not recognize.
One of the younger Seasong merchants showed me several shell ornaments carved into floral shapes.
Small enough to pin into hair.
I bought one without thinking very much about it.
The shell itself carried pale pink and white colors beneath the sunlight.
Simple.
But beautiful.
Ryn noticed it immediately after I returned.
“You’re becoming easier to read,” she said.
I told her I did not know what she meant.
She only smiled into her tea after that.
For a moment, I almost asked her about the name Roderick.
About the port.
About her family.
The question reached the edge of my throat.
Then stopped there.
I am not sure why.
Perhaps because asking would make something feel more real than it currently is.
Near evening, I walked briefly along a section of shore covered in enormous pastel-colored shells.
The locals called it the Whispering Shell Beach.
When the wind moved through the empty shells scattered across the sand, soft sounds rose around the shoreline like distant whispers layered together beneath the sea breeze.
I sat there longer than I intended.
Listening.
After a while, the sounds almost began to resemble words.
Not clearly.
Not enough to understand.
But enough that my mind kept trying.
The ocean continued breathing against the shore while the sky slowly turned gold and pink above the water.
And for a brief moment—
It felt as though the entire coastline had fallen half-asleep beneath the evening light.
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