Tidecaller stepped into the canoe and pushed off from shore. The craft dipped and rose with each small wave. Cold water splashed against their hooves, sending sharp tingles up their legs. Their scars burned hotter as they paddled further from land. The wind shifted—copper tang filled their nostrils. North, the scars whispered. Tidecaller turned the bow and pulled steady strokes through dark water. The moon's reflection broke and reformed around them. This was the first step—learning to read the signs their body carried, trusting the pain that had shaped them. Each burn mark was a map. Each pulse was a direction. The canoe glided forward, carrying them toward answers buried in salt and memory. Hours passed before the shore became a thin dark line behind them. Tidecaller's front legs ached from paddling, but they couldn't stop now. Not when the scars spoke so clearly. They needed a way to find this spot again—a marker visible across vast water in darkness. From the canoe's storage hollow, they pulled out a lantern wrapped in seaweed. The stone base felt heavy and cold in their hooves. Purple and grey stones circled its pedestal. When Tidecaller held it high, blue light poured from the glass, bright enough to cut through fog and distance. They lowered it back into the water on a tether. The glow sank deep, marking this place where copper wind met northern current. Tomorrow they would dive. Tonight they had learned to trust the whispers. Tonight they had found their beginning.

Dawn light touched the water as Tidecaller pulled the glowing lantern back into the canoe. The marker had done its work—this spot was theirs to find again. But diving blind into depths that swallowed memories would be foolish. The scars pulsed steadily now, a rhythm that matched the waves. They needed to understand what lay below before descending. Tidecaller reached into the canoe's storage hollow and found a long copper tube, narrow and sealed at one end with clear glass. When they lowered it beneath the surface and peered through the open end, the water's secrets revealed themselves. Dark shapes of rocks jutted up from the seafloor. Ribbons of kelp swayed in the current. And there—just visible in the murky distance—the broken spine of a ship's hull. Tidecaller's chest burned hot where the rope scars crossed. The wreck waited below, holding pieces of Luneth, holding pieces of themselves. They had found it at last. But others would need to find this place too. Tidecaller paddled toward the nearest shore, where forest met water in a tangle of roots and stones. They dragged the canoe onto wet sand and searched the tree line. One tree stood taller than the rest, its trunk marked with symbols so old the wood had grown around them. Tidecaller pressed both hooves against the bark. The scars on their chest flared hot, then sent purple sparks racing up the trunk. Electricity crackled through ancient grooves, lighting each symbol until the whole tree hummed with violet light. The glow would be visible from the water for miles—a beacon calling those who sought what the depths concealed. Tidecaller stepped back, watching purple lightning dance through branches. The tree would guide others here, to this shore where forest held vigil over the shipwreck's secret waters. The path to their memories was marked now, waiting for the dive that would bring everything back. Tidecaller followed a worn path inland until they found a building of crumbling stone and mossy purple wood. Voices drifted through open windows—sailors and travelers sharing stories over drinks. The Seafarer's Sanctuary, someone called it. Tidecaller pushed through the wooden door. Inside, a centaur played piano while locals leaned close to listen. The music stopped as all eyes turned to the dripping, glowing figure in the doorway. "When the lighthouse drowns, what guides the lost?" Tidecaller asked. An old sailor stood, understanding in his weathered face. He knew these waters, knew the wrecks that rested below. Before the dive, Tidecaller needed the stories these people carried—the legends that might unlock what the ship held. The sailor gestured to an empty chair. Tidecaller sat and listened as tales of the sea filled the room, each one a key to the memories waiting in the dark water.