Page 17 of Onyx Realm

Peering past the trunks, just beyond the flowing grass, was the sparkle of blue.

Whatever she was saying was lost on me. I didn’t remember rising from the chair. My feet seemed to be in control of their own agency. I simply answered the call, letting the harsh whisper of the water beckon me forward.

Breaking through the last grouping of trees, the first sight of the ocean hit like a punch. Not to the gut, but to the soul. It stretched endlessly before me, a dazzling expanse of blue so vivid it seemed unreal, as though someone had painted the horizon with colors too pure for this world. The sunlight bounced off the waves, turning the water into a shimmering field of liquid diamonds that seemed to ripple and dance, pulling my eyes and my heart further in.

I stood there, frozen, my breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat. The salty sting of the sea air filled my lungs, sharp and clean, like nothing I had ever breathed before. It clung to my skin, carried by the breeze that whipped my hair into my face. I tasted salt on my lips, as if the ocean were already claiming me as its own.

The first step I took was hesitant, almost reverent. The sand gave way under my feet, soft and warm, molding to me like it had been waiting for me to arrive. I walked closer, each step pulling me toward the water like a magnet, until the waves finally reached out and licked at my toes. The water was cooler than I expected, a sudden shock that sent shivers up my legs, but it felt like an invitation.

A delirious laugh clawed from my throat.

This was nothing like Lake Michigan, green and tangy. This beautiful, living body of water seemed...sacred. My chest ached with a strange mix of joy and awe. I had never seen anything so vast, so alive, so untouchable yet welcoming. I didn’t just see the ocean—I felt it. It was in my ears, my nose, my skin, my very breath.

What the hell is this strange magic?

The moment broke when heavy pants sounded behind me. Not wanting Evangelia to see the emotional reaction to the sublime beauty of nature, I bent and began scrubbing saltwater over stinging, sensitive feet, ignoring the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I was just overwhelmed and didn’t need a stranger commenting on the tangled state of my thoughts.

“Yep, so um, this is the ocean,” she said by way of introducing us.

I wanted to cackle. What kind of dismissive welcome was that? Such a thing of wonder, power, and beauty shouldn’t be encapsulated in such a short blurting of words.

“You’ve never been, have you?” she asked softly.

Her observation was damn near prophetic.

“How did you guess?”

She shrugged. “The way you’re looking at it just now is like someone coming home. Like you were always meant to be here.”

I’m a prisoner.That harsh reality helped to sap some of the dominating sparkle from the moment.

“What is that over there?” I changed the topic as I stood and pointed.

“Oh, the marina,” she explained. “Sometimes tourists come to take chartered fishing trips out into the water, but it’s mostly our fishing grounds. The docking stations we mainly use to haul the catch of the day onto. It gets ripped up every storm season—that’s the fall time—but the boys have a system to pull it down and set it back up without disrupting the business too much.”

As she explained enthusiastically, we walked toward the docks. The natural landscape changed as we moved, shifting from grasses and sand to a precise slope made of cut stone. It wasn’t as pretty, but the little sea critters and shells decorated the stone as if to defy the efforts of engineering.

Evangelia stopped short before the path turned to cracked pavement. “This is as far as we should go.”

I wondered if it was because of me, or if she really wasn’t allowed up there. It was hard to believe they would be so misogynistic and old-fashioned as not to let a woman near the ships.

But what did I know?

Wooden docks stretched out on the water. A variety of boats, some big and some little, bobbed on the water. Several were even turned upside down. I couldn’t begin to name or describe all the parts, but they were different than the speedy little trappings we used on Lake Michigan. Mainly, these seemed to use the wind with big sails rather than motors.

I wish I paid attention when Leonardo talked about water vessels.What was the point of knowing a yachting enthusiast if I didn’t pick up on some useful information?

“What are they doing?” I asked, jerking my chin to the men in loose, linen pants throwing things into a ship.

“Oh, um, getting ready to fish when the tide turns.”

I shot Evangelia a side look and noticed her chewing on her thumb. The question was, what was fishing short for with this Greek mob? Because there was no doubt in my mind that they were up to no good.

“That’s my dad’s old boat,” Evangelia jabbered, pointing at the soft yellow vessel. “Iosif has been navigating her since he was a boy.”

Blinking, I looked at the men. “Is Markos there?”

My question stopped her commentary on the trip her brother took around the Gulf.

---