A's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

A had wanted one thing since she first heard the story: the sea god who lived in the club's lagoon granted a single wish to anyone who could win his favor. She had spent three nights waiting at the water's edge, swimsuit soaked, hair dripping, watching for a face in the waves. She never saw one. She had no idea when he surfaced, or where. You cannot flirt with a god you cannot find. She climbed back to the stone villa where she lived above the shore. The morning sun warmed its pale walls. B was already on the balcony, drying her long black hair with a towel, still in her white bikini. B ran the club's water shows. If anyone knew the lagoon, she did. "You look terrible," B said. "Three nights of nothing?" "I don't even know where to stand," A said. "He never shows." B laughed and tossed the towel over the rail. "Because you're standing on the shore like a tourist. He doesn't come to the edge." She leaned close, brown eyes bright. "The old chest in the boathouse has a chart. My grandmother kept it. It marks the deep spring under the lagoon, where the current turns. That's where the water breaks at dawn." A followed her down to the boathouse. B knelt and dragged out a heavy wooden chest carved with island patterns, spirals and waves cut into the wood. She popped the black iron latch. Inside, under old rope, lay a folded chart. B spread it on the floor. A dark circle marked the lagoon's center, ringed by tide notes in faded ink. "Full moon tide," B read. "The spring rises. The water goes still, then breaks upward. That's him." She looked up. "That's tomorrow." A's chest tightened. She traced the circle with one wet finger. "So I go to the center. At the low tide before dawn." "You swim out," B said. "You wait on the still water. And you don't run when it moves." A stood. For three nights she had been guessing. Now she had a place and a time. She rolled the chart and held it against her chest. "Why help me?" she asked. B shrugged and latched the chest. "Because everyone who's tried to reach the center never came back the same." She met A's eyes. "I want to see which one you'll be." The warning did not slow A. It sharpened her. She had her window. Tomorrow, before sunrise, she would swim to the exact spot where the sea god broke the surface, and she would make him look at her. Outside, the tide was already pulling back from the shore.