Shadow Requiem

Chapter 7: Retrograde

~~[498 Words]~~

Time crawled. The world started pulling itself back together — waves steadied, the wind quit howling, and the sky stitched itself up. Sunlight slipped through the holes in the clouds, just little traces at first. Finally, Saedan and the others were halfway home. The yacht looked beat-up, scratched and dented. But it kept pushing forward, picking up speed as the water calmed. They had to be going at least fifty miles an hour, probably more. For Calvin, that meant one thing: they'd reach shore before dark.

"So," the old man said, leaning into the railing, staring ahead. Saedan stood next to him. "You sure you made the right call?"

"Honestly? No," Saedan said. His voice was quiet, even. "Right now, I just want to enjoy being alive. That's enough for me."

The old man laughed. "Good. That's how you do it. When I want to have fun, I have fun. When it's time to relax, I relax. You've gotta live. Don't waste it." He slapped Saedan on the shoulder. "Set your troubles down for a while. They'll be waiting when you're ready to pick them back up. That's life! Sometimes you're sunk, sometimes you float."

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"You two look way too serious," Caroline said, coming up behind them.

"Oh, Caroline," the old man grinned, wrinkles deep around his eyes. "How's Lisa?"

"There, still knocked out." Caroline tipped her bottle of Red Horse and grinned. "Actually, she's snoring." She took another drink.

Saedan laughed. "Only Lisa." He grabbed his own bottle and took a swig. The old man joined them.

A heavy sigh slipped out of Saedan, almost a groan.

Caroline leaned on the rail, eyes closed, beer in hand. "God, that breeze feels unreal. And the sky — just listen. It's like everything's holding its breath."

They all looked up. The sky stretched wide, so quiet you could almost believe it had just been born. A little too beautiful, maybe.

But far away, nowhere near their battered yacht or the peace settling over the sky, someone else moved.

Redd. That was the name Saedan called him.

He'd made it to the surface at last, but "home" was still somewhere distant.

He moved with an eerie calm, seawater peeling off his body. Training finished. He'd clawed his way out from the deep ocean, carrying something silent but powerful — a pressure that bent the air.

He didn't stop. Saltwater dripped from every inch of him, except where it stuck, like a second skin. Something heavy seemed to hang around him, invisible but dense, clinging close. You couldn't see it, not really, but you felt it: like gasoline vapors shimmering over a hot engine, waiting for a spark.

The force rolling off him was brutal. With every step, sand kicked out in bursts, as if gravity itself had shifted. Little wisps of that weird energy curled and vanished in the air.

A monitor lizard watched from nearby, frozen still, eyes wide.

And at last, the sky — grey for so long — let out its breath.