The Night the Sea Spoke

The stars above Evermore shimmered with quiet promise. The village lay hushed beneath their gaze, cloaked in peace and the excitement of what tomorrow would bring. Doors were locked early. Children had been told stories of love and fate before being tucked into bed. Even the wind that often whistled through the trees had gone still, as though holding its breath.

Lily stood at her window long after Sam left, holding the shell he had once given her as a child. It was smooth and pale, shaped by time and tide just like their story. Tomorrow, they would stand under the fig tree, and everything they had waited for would finally be theirs.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "Almighty, protect him."

Meanwhile, Sam walked the narrow path down to the shore, as he often did on quiet nights. The sea had always been his companion. He found comfort in its rhythm, its voice. Tonight, he wanted to speak to it one last time before becoming a husband.

He sat on the rock near the edge, the same one where he used to dream as a boy. The moonlight painted silver trails across the water. All looked calm.

But the air was not the same.

The temperature shifted ust enough to raise the hairs on his arms. A gust of wind came from the east, sharper than it should've been for spring. Sam rose to his feet slowly, narrowing his eyes toward the horizon.

Clouds, thin and low, began to gather far off where the sky kissed the ocean.

He took a step back.

Then another gust hit, stronger this time. The calm tide turned restless. Waves licked higher against the rocks, and the sea began to speak but not gently.

Sam didn't panic. He'd seen the sea change moods a hundred times. He knew its temperament. He knew when to leave.

But this time, he stayed a little longer.

One more minute.

One more memory.

And that was all the sea needed.

A wave rose higher than any he'd ever seen on a calm night. It didn't roar like a storm wave. It struck fast, sudden, and without warning. Sam turned to run but the wind shoved him forward, and his foot slipped on the slick rock and fell into the sea.

The sea grabbed him. The wave didn't stop it surged with relentless force, dragging him farther from the shore until it was beyond Sam's control.

The waves kept coming, one after another, swallowing him whole. The sea pulled him deeper and deeper, until the world above became distant. From beneath the surface, Evermore looked like nothing more than a speck like a tiny bird flitting far away before it disappeared completely from sight.

Back in the village, Lily startled awake.

A strange gust of wind had pushed her window open. She hurried to close it, but her heart was thumping without reason. Something was wrong.

She rushed outside, barefoot, into the darkness.

"Sam?" she whispered, though she didn't know why.

By dawn, word had spread like a fire in dry grass.

Sam hadn't returned.

His parents were the first to search the shoreline, followed by his friends, then nearly half the village. They found his shoes near the rock.

But no sign of him.

Not a piece of clothing.

Not a sound.

Not a breath.

The sea had gone silent again, as if nothing had happened.

Lily refused to speak for hours. She sat on the edge of the cliff in her wedding dress, the one her mother had finished that very morning. She clutched the shell. Her face was pale, her eyes unblinking.

When her father knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, she finally whispered, "He promised tomorrow."

He swallowed hard. "And he meant it."

"But where is he now?"

The waves below didn't answer.

For the next three days, the villagers kept searching. Even those who had once whispered cruel words about Sam and Lily now joined in, guilt etched in their faces. The prince had long departed, unaware of the storm that had come after him.

Lily didn't eat. Didn't sleep. She wore Sam's coat around her shoulders like armor and refused to leave the cliff where they last stood together.

And yet, some still believed he would return.

Because sometimes, the sea gives back what it takes.

And sometimes, it doesn't...