The boarding house creaked with the weight of Stratus Haven's night winds. Helletta lay on a narrow bed, one of dozens crammed into the long dormitory room. The air smelled of salt and old wood, like everything else in the city, but here it was sharper somehow—almost metallic. Sleep came to her like sinking, like being pulled under by a gentle but insistent tide.

  The dream started with thunder.

  She was young again, small enough that the needle in her hands felt too big, though she knew—somehow—that it had been made just for her. The sky above stretched endless and gray, heavy clouds grumbling with distant storms. Most children would have been frightened by such a sky, by the way it seemed to press down on the world like a lid on a pot. But to her younger self, it felt right. Natural. The way things should be.

  Their small boat rocked gently on water so dark it was almost black. Yet she could see into it, down and down into depths that should have been impossible to glimpse. The darkness should have been frightening too, but it wasn't—not completely. There was something familiar about it, like recognizing a lullaby you'd heard in your cradle.

  Her master stood at the bow, his form strangely blurred in her memory, like trying to see someone through churning water. But his hair—that she remembered with perfect clarity. It was the deep blue of the ocean itself, flowing past his shoulders in waves that seemed to move even when he was still. The color caught what little light filtered through the storm clouds, shimmering with a life of its own.

  Thunder rolled again, closer now, and the dark water below their boat began to stir..

  “Watch carefully," her master's voice came, both distant and near at once. "The thread is not just a tool—it's an extension of yourself." The silvery line from his needle caught the storm light, weaving patterns in the air that seemed to bend the space around them.

  Young Helletta fumbled with her own needle, the thread tangling uselessly between her fingers. A fat droplet of rain struck her hand, making her start.

  "No, no," her master's laugh was warm despite the chill wind. "Let it flow. Like water." He demonstrated again, his movements so fluid they seemed impossible. "See? The thread follows your intent, just as water follows the pull of the tide."

  When the thunder growled closer, he paused, studying her with eyes she couldn't quite remember. "Perhaps," he said gently, "we should try it in the water."

  Fear seized her chest, pure and instinctive. The water was so dark, so deep. Even if it felt familiar, something in her knew there were things down there—things that moved in ways nothing should move.

  "I'm scared," she whispered, the words small against the vastness around them.

  His form might have been blurred, but she could feel his smile. "I know," he said. "But I won't let anything hurt you. Come here."

  He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, stepping off the boat and into the black water in a single fluid motion. The water seemed to part around them, keeping them dry even as they sank beneath the surface. Despite holding her, his movements were unnaturally graceful—more like dancing than swimming.

  "Look," he said softly. "You need to see."

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. The underwater world spread out around them, darkness stretching for what seemed like miles. Her master moved through it as easily as walking, the thread from his needle drawing complex patterns that glowed faintly in the gloom.

  Then something moved in the distance. Something big.

  "Ah," her master said, his voice carrying clearly despite the water around them. "Perfect. A fish, come to help us practice."

  But even as young as she was, Helletta knew immediately that it wasn't a fish. There was a wrongness to its movement, a twist in its shape that made her eyes hurt to look at it. Yet her master smiled—she couldn't see his face clearly, but she knew he smiled—and his voice was warm with encouragement.

  "Watch now," he said, setting her gently in the water. She floated, suspended in the darkness, as he swam toward the approaching creature with the same impossible grace. The wrongness of the "fish" grew stronger as it neared, its form twisting in ways that seemed to bend reality itself.

  But her master showed no fear. If anything, he seemed pleased.

  Energy pulsed from him suddenly—a ripple that moved through the water in ways water shouldn't move, making the darkness itself shudder. The creature surged forward, its wrongness now unmistakable, but her master's thread was already weaving. The patterns he created seemed to cut through reality, leaving trails of light that burned into young Helletta's vision.

  A flash. Brilliant. Blinding. For one moment, the depths were illuminated as bright as day.

  When the light faded, the creature was gone. But her master didn't return. He stood—not floated, but stood—on what looked like solid darkness, his ocean-blue hair moving in currents that weren't there.

  "Come here!" young Helletta called, still suspended in the water. "I'm scared!"

  But he remained where he was, unmoving. When he spoke, his voice had changed, becoming something deeper, stranger. Something that seemed to come from the darkness itself.

  "You shouldn't fear the water, little one," he said. "You were born from its darkest parts, after all."

  The water around her grew colder. Something brushed against her leg—something that felt like fingers, but wrong, so wrong. She looked down and saw them: pale hands reaching up from the depths, stretching toward her with horrible eagerness.

  "Master!" she screamed, but when she looked back, he was gone. Only his voice remained, echoing through the dark water.

  "Remember..."

  She sank deeper, the hands pulling her down into darkness that went on forever. Just before the black consumed her completely, she caught a glimpse of something vast moving below—something that made the corrupted "fish" look tiny in comparison. Something that was reaching for her with more than just hands...

  The darkness swallowed her whole, and she kept sinking, down and down, into depths that had no end.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Helletta jerked awake with a gasp that tasted of salt. The boarding house was dark and unfamiliar, filled with the soft sounds of sleeping fishers and creaking wood. Her clothes were dry, but her skin remembered water—cold, pressing, wrong. She could still feel phantom fingers trailing across her legs, still sense the weight of depths that shouldn't exist.

  She sat up slowly, pressing her palms against her eyes until spots of light danced in the darkness. The dream was already fading, slipping away like water through spread fingers, but fragments remained: her master's ocean-blue hair moving in impossible currents, the complex patterns of his thread cutting through water and reality, the wrongness of the thing he'd called a fish.

  His words echoed in her mind: The thread follows your intent, just as water follows the pull of the tide.

  The borrowed needle lay beside her bed, its thread catching the weak light that filtered through the small window. She picked it up, letting the thread run through her fingers. Yesterday's fight came back to her—how naturally the movements had flowed, how right the weapon had felt in her hand. She'd thought it was instinct, or luck, or just the desperate energy of the moment.

  But now...

  She tried to recreate one of the simple patterns from her dream, and her hands moved before her mind could catch up. The thread wove through the air exactly as she'd seen it do beneath those dark waters. Her body remembered, even if her mind couldn't quite grasp the memory.

  What else had he taught her? What else lay buried in her memory, like those pale hands reaching up from the depths?

  You were born from its darkest parts.

  Outside, the first gray light of dawn was touching Stratus Haven's towers. Soon she would meet Remarn, walk into his territory with Ella at her side. She should be thinking about that, about the dangers ahead. Instead, she found herself staring at the thread in her hands, wondering what other memories might surface—and whether she really wanted them to.

  The boarding house creaked around her, and for a moment, it sounded almost like distant thunder.

  Morning light spilled through Stratus Haven's towers like water through a broken net. Helletta stood on the boarding house's narrow balcony, the borrowed needle moving through practiced forms that felt both new and ancient. The thread caught the sunlight, weaving patterns she both did and didn't remember learning.

  Like water follows the pull of the tide...

  "You're up early," Ella's voice cut through her reverie. The younger girl leaned against the doorframe, watching with that careful distance she always maintained. Her usual bright smile flickered slightly. "And you look terrible."

  Helletta grunted in response, her focus on the thread. A particularly complex pattern formed in the air—one she'd seen in her dream, one her hands somehow knew.

  "Did you sleep at all?" Ella moved closer, studying her with uncommon intensity. "Because meeting Remarn while exhausted isn't exactly—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes fixing on Helletta's hands. "Where did you learn that pattern?"

  Helletta blinked, the thread going slack. "What pattern?"

  "The one you just..." Ella shook her head, her smile returning too quickly. "Never mind. Here." She produced a wrapped package from her satchel. "Eat something. Can't face Remarn on an empty stomach."

  But even as Helletta tore into the food with her usual appetite, she caught Ella watching her threadwork with unusual attention. Each time Helletta absently moved through another form, Ella's eyes would narrow slightly, that calculating look returning.

  "You're different this morning," Ella said finally.

  "Bad dream," Helletta muttered through a mouthful of bread.

  "Must have been some dream." Ella's voice was casual, but her posture had shifted subtly. "You're moving like... well, like someone who's been training with a needle for years."

  Years. Or a lifetime spent in dark waters, learning things she couldn't quite remember.

  The thread whispered through the air again, drawing patterns that reminded her of ripples in deep water. Each movement felt more natural than the last, as if her body was remembering something her mind had forgotten.

  "We should go," Ella said, but she made no move to leave. "Though maybe first you could show me that last pattern again?"

  Helletta tried to repeat it, but the movement slipped away like a dream upon waking. Instead, her hands moved through a different form—one that made the air itself seem to bend, just for a moment.

  Ella's sharp intake of breath was barely audible. When Helletta looked up, the younger girl's usual smile was firmly in place, but something had changed in her eyes.

  "Right then," Ella said brightly, too brightly. "Time to meet the man who controls a hundred killer birds. Try not to look quite so... otherworldly when we get there?"

  Helletta nodded, but her mind was already drifting back to dark waters and impossible depths. The borrowed needle felt warm in her hand, like it had been waiting for her to remember how to use it properly.

  Remember...

  Her master's voice echoed in her memory, but when she tried to focus on it, it slipped away like everything else. Only the patterns remained, flowing through her hands as naturally as breathing.

  Or drowning.

  The sky over Stratus Haven had turned the color of old iron, heavy clouds threatening rain. As Helletta and Ella made their way toward Quartersquare, something about the weather tugged at Helletta's mind—a sense of familiarity that went deeper than memory.

  "Storm coming," Ella observed, but Helletta barely heard her. The dark clouds, the way they pressed down on the city... it was right somehow. Natural. The way things should be.

  A Serkull's cry pierced the morning quiet. Then another. And another. The birds wheeled overhead in growing numbers, their shadows crossing the streets like omens. Each one seemed to pause in its flight, watching them with too-intelligent eyes before moving on.

  "They're marking our path," Ella said quietly. "Making sure everyone knows we're coming."

  The closer they got to Quartersquare, the more the world seemed to shift. The familiar streets of Stratus Haven took on a different character. Market stalls stood empty, their awnings flapping in a wind that felt wrong somehow. The few people they passed walked quickly, heads down, giving the two girls a wide berth.

  Thunder growled in the distance.

  Helletta's hand kept straying to the needle at her hip, fingers running along the thread as if seeking comfort. Each touch brought fragments of her dream floating back—dark water, impossible depths, pale hands reaching...

  "You're doing it again," Ella's voice cut through her thoughts.

  "Doing what?"

  "That thing with the thread. Making it move like..." Ella trailed off, her usual smile faltering as she watched the silver line weave patterns Helletta wasn't even aware of making.

  They turned a corner, and Quartersquare spread out before them. The market that had once been the heart of Stratus Haven's trade now looked more like a fortress. Serkulls perched on every surface, their black feathers making them look like pieces of the darkness itself. The buildings seemed to loom, their shadows stretching too long for the time of day.

  And there, at the center of it all, stood a structure that hadn't been visible from the outside of the square. A tower of some kind, but wrong—like it had been built from pieces of a dozen different buildings, all fused together in ways that didn't quite make sense. Serkull nests dotted its surface like wounds.

  "That's where he'll be," Ella whispered. "At the top."

  Thunder rolled again, closer now. The wrongness of the place pressed against Helletta's skin like cold water. For a moment, she thought she saw something move in the shadows between buildings—something that reminded her of pale hands reaching up from depths that shouldn't exist.

  "Ready?" Ella asked, but her voice seemed to come from very far away.

  Helletta stared up at the twisted tower, at the hundreds of Serkulls watching with their sharp eyes, at the sky that looked so much like the one from her dream. The borrowed needle felt warm against her hip, like it was responding to something—something that stirred in both her memories and the shadows around them.

  "No," she said honestly. "But we're going anyway."

  They stepped into Quartersquare together, and Helletta couldn't shake the feeling that she was sinking into deep water all over again.