Kendra

The coral archway hums softly as Kendra drifts beneath it, seaweed ribbons trailing from her wrists. Sunlight fractures into liquid gold above, painting shifting constellations across her maroon hair. She pauses, fingertips brushing a bioluminescent anemone—its glow pulses in time with her slow, ancient breath. A distant ship’s bell tolls, muffled and mournful. Her navy eyes soften, remembering tides long gone. “Ah… the surface remembers us less each year—but the sea? The sea remembers everything.”