I saw Rekië when we hit the water. Everyone else was caught by shrapnel or swimming to save each other, but I saw him.
I saw the water part for his entry then gather around him like a shroud, cloaking every scale with a cool darkness that could convince even the most restless spirit to drown quietly. While all else was a silver opposition of air rushing to the surface and rubble racing to the bottom, Rekië seemed - dare I say it - safe.
The way of things. False safety, then a misstep and a headlong dive into dark water. It seemed like ages ago we were standing on a gangway about to walk out into the resolved light. Then upside down and slapped into water.
His blue scales embraced the water, and he floated for a minute in the blue cocoon.- more still than I had ever seen him before, serene even. He hung in the water for a one eternal moment before something sneering and gold slipped into his cocoon.
Innocent enough. Innocent and gold. But not to Rekië. When the orb landed on his chest his whole body twitched and curled around the thing. I saw him. I saw him thrash in the internal battle to open the thing. I knew that struggle.
I tried to paddle toward him, but Oceanus was already upon me, dragging me to the surface. I screamed and only added to the white rage of lost air. In the water, decisions are made alone.
I saw Rekië wage the battle I well knew: to be animal or above. I saw the feral twitching along his brow, the snarl for something desired but hated at the same time. I saw the eyes racing behind eyelids grinding together to block out the call of beastial pleasures.
I saw the collapse. I saw the eyes snap open and cloud over like oil poured out on paper. I watched something else enter in. I saw the terror give way to power. The way of things: false serenity punctured by our inevitable descent into darkness.
I saw Rekië hurl himself upstream, raging furiously against the tide that dragged us all backward. There are only two things to be in this world. Tainted and powerful or innocent and drowned.
I only ever hoped to reach the Sea. I never once dreamed it would lead me into oblivion. But perhaps that is the way of things - the comedy of the world. To place hope in the innocent and dare them to escape the desert, knowing full well when they do, they will be smashed upon the rocks and torn to bits by the tides. Or they will choose to embrace despair and survive a sort of half-life, riding the ebb and flow eternally in the shallows.
What else in this world can anyone be except Dark or Drowned?
Oceanus and I are almost to the surface now. I think I would rather sleep here.