He sinks further into the sand as the waves die at his feet.
He isn’t thinking about the finale of the water’s journey from elsewhere to here. He is looking ahead, instead, looking at the horizon as the sun dips down towards it. It is almost surreal to watch the sunsets here. It is mesmerizing, the way the sky seems to bleed red and spill out across the water. It’s nothing like the sunsets of the Dale, all golden light but muted by clouds and bounced between mountains. In Ischia, there are no barriers to stand between them and the brilliance before the dark. There is only the boiling, crimson sea that quiets when the moon rises.
Sabrael stares at the sun even though he knows he shouldn’t (even though mother’s voice rings in his ears, warns a younger version of himself against it). He is alone, save for the seagulls circling above his head. He is usually alone, these days, both a sign of the times and the change in their crumbling family. Because when the earth went to shaking, so too did the foundation of their once wholesome family. He misses his siblings. He misses his father. He is a man now, and he’s had to become one without any of them – who might he have been instead?
The sun kisses the water and melts into its embrace. Sabrael waits until the stars come out, watches as they blink into life. There is a grim sort of satisfaction to yet another day passing. He wonders if he will wake up and know the day he will leave this cramped island or if he will simply not swim home the next time he is away. It is inevitable, he knows. Entropy is the law of nature; their family will eventually crumble to the point of no return. Even if he wanted to stop it, to stay and make the best of an unfortunate situation, he isn’t sure he could.
When the stars reveal no new truths, no secrets, he turns away. It is louder here certainly, even at night. The rustle of the macaws searching for an evening roost in the trees, the sway of the palm fronds against one another, the spray of the high tide against the rocks – all a chorus that plays well into the hours after sunset. Another sound joins the symphony, the telltale crack of a seashell under a hoof. Sabrael meets the snap with a narrowed gaze. “Sorry, show’s over, he says into the dark. Secretly, silently, he regrets that he’s missed sharing it.
Sabrael