Submission number one for CrapPishh's fanfic challenge. I took so long to realise that it was eligible!

Yes, the old one was totally scrapped because it was so horrible and long.

So...what changes will you see here? The entire storyline, for one thing.

A Thousand Miles: Song of the Sea

There was an old man who lived in Boat Quay. Every morning, I would pass him by on my way to the market, see him resting among his belongings in the midst of the raucous gull calls. He was always watching the waves, almost as if he were waiting for something.

What was he waiting for? It was something that would never come, I could somehow feel. That was why he never smiled; that was why he never looked truly anticipating. That was why he never lost hope—for hope had been lost, a long time ago.

I asked him once, why he waited so. And he told me: Sailing had been his life. He had loved the sea, for it had been his home since his youth. But one day, years ago, he lost it all—his crew, his ship, his dreams—to a ghost of the past. To a man who never wanted to let go. To a man who had set out to find his dreams, and had died instead.

I had had nothing to do for the afternoon. Why not entertain myself and hear this story? So, lazily, I had settled down before him, and asked him to tell me that story.

And so he began.

Garren Latanica once owned the most beautiful ship in Boat Quay, the Heaven's Hope. Every morning, when Garren sailed down the Singapore River ferrying passengers, the townsfolk would wave as he pulled into the docking point.

Captain Latanica was pleased with his life. But there was one thing he still longed for. Every time he reached the mouth of the river, he would gaze out longingly at the sea, wishing that he could sail there, and explore the great distances.

The chance came when the ferrying service closed for the holidays. He told his sister Aspen that he would return within a year, and tell her the tales of his journey. He gathered up a crew of men, and made plans to reach the distant lands he had heard of.

But as they entered the deeper waters south of Singapore, they met with a storm. He struggled against the wind to continue his journey. But slowly, the ship's hull began to fill with water. His crew members worked quickly to bail water out, but they were powerless against the ocean's rage.

In his last minutes, he lit a lantern and ran about the deck, checking on his crewmen. They were exhausted, dying.

Latanica realized that there was no way they could live through it. And the familiar words of this father returned to his mind, ringing true.

'A captain never abandons his ship, not even at the brink of death.'

So, as the waters filled the hull, Garren Latanica stood against the storm, faithful to his father's ship. His crewmen stayed by him as it slowly sank. And with that, all their souls were sealed into its body, cursed to haunt the waters near Boat Quay forever.

At this point, the old man paused, looking out indistinctly at the waters.

"Aspen never found out what happened to her brother," he murmured finally, as I turned to the dark ocean just beyond us. "She searched in vain, travelling the world in the hope that she would find him somewhere, happy and content. And though she died long ago, she refused to go to heaven until she found him. She became a mist spirit, roaming the sky even now, waiting for the day when she can take him to heaven."

Ralph the Wanderer had been smiling emptily. "I don't like this ending. It doesn't bring closure. I know only too well how it feels to lose everything."

Then, his smile had vanished. "I lost it because of him."

I had nodded with fascination at this story. I hadn't believed it, of course. It had only been a tale then, one that had entertained me for five minutes—and I had enjoyed it. Believed it? Not at all.

Until I saw him with my own eyes.

A full moon, I still remember. A single luminous eye, casting a hardened silver light over the waves. A single fishing boat in the bay, rocking on the waves, a struggle to pull away from the storm. Clouds gathering overhead—clouds full of lightning, the smell of rain and salt riding the windy sky, boding a storm.

All I did was stay at the water's edge, watching. This day felt different. Something was about to happen.

Then, beyond the grey dimness, I began to discern the shape. My heartbeat rose rapidly, mouth falling open—a smudge of pale light, an ocean vessel, crossing the waters without feeling the wind. And the ghostly, drunken shanty of dead sailors as they manned the sails—chilling me deep to the bone.

Captain Latanica. Captain Latanica, the ghost of Boat Quay.

And it attacked, a mass of glowing white creatures appearing from the air, flocking down upon the fishermen amidst their desperate yells of panic, their lives rapidly smothered away.

I remember screaming. I remember sprinting from the shore under the shower, rain staining the concrete black. I remember my head meeting the front doorstep in a dead faint.

From that day, the legend became the truest story I had ever heard. From then, I heard the music every night—the music of dead sailors, singing to the moonlit waves. And I understood—why no one believed the tale, why it was no more than a myth. It always happened during a storm—a time when no one would see.

Well, I had. I had seen the truth. And never again did I want to see it.

Perhaps I shouldn't have hoped for that—for the misfortune you fear the most will befall the ones closest to you. It's strange, isn't it?

It all began when my little brother Joaquin asked to leave Singapore. The moment I heard those words, the cold dread gushed into my heart, like icy ocean water. I fought, I argued—so anxious, terrified, disbelieving! But who would understand my cause? My family members were no-nonsense people—they just didn't believe in ghosts.

It was happening, the thing I had feared so long—it was a nightmare slowly coming true. Yet there was no trust from my parents. No belief, now when I needed it.

The choices whirled in my head, dissipated, until I was only left with one option. I had worked out three things:

First—I was the only thing standing between my brother and his death now.

Second, the captain would have to be vanquished.

And third, I would have to do it.

It wasn't a choice I could make anymore.

My name is Jada. From childhood, I have lived by the ocean. All my life, its voice has sung to my world—a world I have watched every day, wondering what secrets it holds.

But it has also haunted me, all these years. It has driven fear deep into my heart, and I no longer know what to make of it. A friend; an enemy? Where is the line between these two?

It took me a dark journey to discover this: It is neither. But I continue to love it—love it despite its cruelty—for its beautiful colours, for the way it can change at any moment.

And this is how it happened. This is how a single day turned my life around.

The moon was brighter than it had ever been for half a year—a full moon like the first time I had seen his ship, bringing washes of memory into my mind. The ocean was singing through the night, the waves whispering gently into my ear. The rowboats bobbed up and down by the port as I approached, sharply-defined shadows upon the roiling water.

Jumping lightly into one, I searched for oars on the rowboat's deck. My left foot kicked them; I bent down to pick them up, the wood rough in my hands.

The plan was simple: I would bait him, draw his ship close—and attack. It didn't matter what I did after that.

Once settled, I threw the rope off and pushed away on the waves. The push of the oars slowly grew steady, like the rhythm of a song, the rhythm of a heartbeat. A strange song was coming to me through the mists, one that rode on the sparkling waves, as soft as a breeze. Were they the voices of the dead, the ghosts of Boat Quay?

There was nothing left across the starry water as I rowed; the port had vanished completely.

And it felt too silent. Something had changed. The wind was rising into a howl; the song was growing frenzied—

It flashed like lightning.

The water sparkled with light, rippling ribbons around the hull of the rowboat. The wind was rising, whipping my hair about as I turned.

A ship. A glowing ship made of ethereal light, closing in over the waters.

He had found me.

I shivered, but I continued to make the oar strokes, as I turned, rowing towards the bright coldness. It was all against my instinct, to speed straight into danger—but I pushed against that as well. The sailors' song had grown powerful, suddenly entrapping me in its despair…

"Onward, onward, never-ending

Take the path across the sea

Where to? We don't care or wonder

Onward, onward, endlessly…"

I forced myself not to listen—their voices were so empty. It was close enough, and it was time to attack. Lifting my Doomsday, I faced the hull—

Coldness draped itself on my shoulders. I shrieked, leaping—but I fell back quickly, white shadows suddenly descending upon me—one after another, frozen sheets, the weight increasing, bearing down like a blanket of ice—

This was it; it was happening to me—he was killing me! My hands—they were numb; it was so hard to breathe...

But you have to escape! Another part of my mind—the undefeatable part—was screaming. You cannot die! Think of Joaquin!

But—the only way now was into the water—

It was all I could do. Placing all trust in myself, I resisted the overbearing cold. As the deep, iciness began to crush the air out of me, I braced myself, praying for luck. Then, gripping the sides, I tilted the boat.

The rowboat tipped dangerously on its edge—

Ice burst all around me, and water filled my world, pulling me deeper and deeper into its bleak steel jaws…

It thrashed and whirled as I coughed violently, the laughter echoing over the waves as I was thrown against the sky by the waters. My rowboat—where had it gone? I cried out for it, cried as if it would answer—but all I heard was the furious, stormy song of the Heaven's Hope.

There was no ground under my feet on which to run.

Beneath me, how many miles of water were there?

The distant roar of thunder soared over black waters, the moon darkening behind the veil of the clouds. The sky was torn by another fork of lightning, a crack in the night, burning my vision away. Then rain began cascading from the clouds like cold metal, plunging deep—almost as painful as bullets.

And the world was all fury, churning like a whirlpool. I could see my death written in the whirling stars, the blinking lights that watched spiritlessly—

The water grew rapidly around me, enwrapping my body with freezing coldness—coldness that weakened my thrashes every moment. What more could I do? When had the path ended? Everything began to vanish, as I let myself go, the bubbles rising from my shaking jaws.

It was time for my end. It was time to give everything up. It was time...

...Then something happened, and everything else stopped happening.

I was thrown out of the water. Water was running down the sides of my face like sweat. The mist—it formed a sphere around me, buoying me up. That strange voice was singing again, a sweet voice—singing the sad song of the ocean.

My hair stood on end. But I couldn't question my undeserved existence—my strength was fading.

Falling back, the air caught me. Vaguely, I wondered where it would take me next—Home? Away? Somehow, I didn't care.

Then I only dimly saw the skies vanish, as my eyes closed, and I began to be swept slowly across the waves, across a thousand dark chasms of water.

Grey light danced over my eyelids, and I slowly pried them open. Where was I? The rain was still pounding over me—and I was in some distant part of the deep bay, the waters here strangely still, despite the falling rain.

What would I do now?

There was something beyond the mist, far, far within. It was cloaked, blurred like a painting, but I could just see something there...

I squinted. Floating there was great, dark shape. A frame of metal with chimneys and propellors, the shadow of something that had been made a decade ago—

The residues of a full-sized ship.

I remembered my job, wasted no time. Through the rainy water I swam, pulling myself through the stormy sky, drinking in the fresh rainy air. As I approached, I reached for the slippery surface of the ship's pale body, breathing hard, staring up at the darkened windows as I clung to cold metal. This was it. This had to be it. The Heaven's Hope, lying at rest in these strange waters.

Breathing in, I swam round to the ladder at the doorway, and climbed into the ship.

My robes were dripping as I entered the lowest deck. The floor was covered in carpeting, old and worn away. I could almost imagine it being rich in its days of use, when it had carried the weight of passengers. A table was thrown against the wall in one corner, a tarnished candle stand lain next to it. The prayer candles were scattered on the slanted floor, their wicks disintegrated. The windows were now lifeless eyes of shattered glass, rimmed with the black of tarnish.

The door of the room was broken. Pushing the creaky old door aside, I wished my staff were still with me. I had lost my Doomsday in the storm, and only had a Phoenix Wand now. The exit immediately gave way to a dark corridor, a column of pale light shining down the empty stairwell at the end, making the air glimmer like gold dust. All the way down, the open doors were like shadows, broken and decayed, ragged outlines of the aura beyond.

Somehow, looking past the shadows at the gentle golden light made my throat ache with tears. My footsteps crossed silently over the dark old carpeting. I glanced into one of the doorways, and saw a thin white object spread over the shattered tabletop. A skeleton, shreds of cloth still hanging from its shoulder blades, eye sockets black and staring.

The silence was swelling...

Then silver whirled past at the corner of my eye. I glanced back to the corridor, heart pounding, sweat breaking out on my brow. Another flash passed on my left.

Suddenly, with a shriek, they began to descend upon me, a shower of translucent silver, clung onto my arms and my hair, clawing with icy fingers. My breaths suddenly fast, I lifted my hand—and realised that my staff wasn't there, like I was used to it being. And they were pulling me down, bringing me slowly to my knees in coldness...

Screaming, I shoved them away and I began to run. Through the flocking, grinning ghosts I pushed, towards the stairwell and the light, far off—

Then I stopped.

A lantern. A glowing lantern in the darkness, casting an oval of orange light across the floor—in the hand of Captain Latanica himself. My entire body froze as my eyes fell upon him. His eyes—his eyes were bloodshot and wide. He still wore his captain's hat, the buttons glinting upon his chest.

Sweat was already pouring down my back, though I felt so cold. Captain Latanica himself—

"Did you expect us to allow you to destroy us?" the captain's voice was powerful, raspy and low. He let out a hoarse, throaty laugh.

Shaking, I felt my rage swell. "Stop attacking the ships!" I retorted, yelling into his face. Couldn't better words have come? It was all I could say as I slipped my Phoenix Wand from my pocket, and pointing it into his face. Lightning crackled. Panting, I stepped forward, fury slowly building. "Leave us alone," I repeated. "Stop it!"

The captain narrowed his eyes. "I do what I please," he replied darkly, no more mirth in his voice.

The Phoenix Wand began to shine with lightning.

All of a sudden, the ghosts were upon me, screaming and darting, silver shapes that soared through my flesh like gusts of ice, making my insides clench.

The knife of lightning scoring a dark mark through the floor. They fled in a frenzy, three ghosts dissipating into nonexistence before me. Mind working fast, I turned to the corridor. Destroy this ship! My mind called out. End his reign!

Will they be sent to heaven?

Pushing past the ghosts, I stepped into the shadows of the first room, where a skeleton lay upon the crumbled remains of a bed.

"Thunderbolt!" The bones turned to dust as they were blown apart by lightning. There was a scream from behind me, and I saw a grey figure vanish in a burst of silver.

The ghosts were screaming, flying through the air in furious pursuit, throwing their icy anchors at me, desperate to stop my flight. Another skeleton was lain before me now, against the wall. I only had a few seconds before they caught up. Biting back my fear, I held out my wand and brought the lightning to my arm again.

"NO!" They screamed, surrounding me like a thick fog, rendering me almost immobile.

Desperate, the third cry left me, my wand shining. They were thrown off, the wand rising again to the skeleton, the spell glowing once more. Ancient shards of bone flew all over the room like shrapnel; another ghost faded away in a cloud of silver, with a horrific scream.

I could see glowing tears falling from their eyes—ghosts's tears. Tears for one who would never exist again.

I turned, just in time to see Captain Latanica climbing the stairs, out of the corridor, into the next deck. Throwing my pain aside, I chased furiously.

The shadows filtered through broken windows like delicate lace, lace that I tore straight through. Just beyond these eyes, I could see the grey ocean rising and falling, endless and expressionless.

There he stood, at door at the end of the deck, imposing and powerful, the glowing lantern thrown upon the floor. But then I saw it. There was something new in his face.

Fear.

That door. He was guarding the captain's room, the place where he had died.

Taking off over the deck, I fixed my narrowed eyes on him, ready to destroy this heartless murderer. But as I drew out my wand, he suddenly gave a powerful roar—and dark tentacles grew from his heart, like ribbons of cloth, sweeping over the deck. They reached out, wound through the air like snakes. And I froze. Turned, ran.

A rush of ice. I was jerked back, screaming, my entire torso and neck enwrapped with blackness.

"Let go!" I roared. "Stop everything you're doing to us!" My arms wouldn't move, the tentacles slowly winding tighter, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

"Ever heard of vengeance?" he asked, pulling on his tentacles, so I drifted closer. "It's my revenge on the world. The sea did this to me, and I will do it to everyone else who tries to cross it!"

Closing my eyes tightly, I frowned. "But don't you feel—bad, bringing others the same pain that you had to go through?"

"Pain? Pain? I know pain. No one will never feel the pain I did! And here you are, telling me about pain?"

Everything blurred before I could even register it. I felt myself fly upwards, at the end of his long tentacles, as he began to shake me as if I were a box he couldn't open. My head whirled in a smudge of vision—up, down—

Finally I began to throw up. The vomit spattered over the carpets as everything continued to whirl, but I didn't stop. I felt completely sick. Even after I had voided my stomach, I gagged repeatedly.

He did everything to me. I was powerless, arms bound to my sides. My face smashed into the grey walls, smashed windows—I felt blood spill, warm on my skin.

Grey, white, black. Darkness, light. Burning circles of light. Pain. Blood. Red and black and the taste of horror.

But Captain Latanica wouldn't stop, however I cried out. With a terrifying cry that exploded through my world, he ripped the wall open, soaring over the sea, through the violent downpour. I plunged into the water, trailing after through pounding rain and ruthless waves that tore my skin with fierce coldness. Water gushed into my lungs, sending streams of needles through me as rain filled my eyes—

The light was shimmering, like a heaven above.

"You must die. DIE!"

The aura of the ship loomed behind me, rising, falling, as I struggled to keep my grip on my soul, slipping every moment. But vague thoughts of the home I had left not too long ago burned like stars, bringing strength—just enough.

Even though I was so close to death, I still had to fight, hadn't I? I had to fight for my cause, a cause that came before all else.

I could barely raise my arm, my wand, through the water. My voice gave almost no sound anymore as I brought the words to mind, words that could not be erased by any current.

I cast the pain away. I thought of Joaquin, smiling at me, embracing me, laughing at me—looking at me with awe in his eyes. I thought of Ralph the Wanderer, the ocean reflected in his gaze, his brimming gaze of anger and broken hope.

And I knew that I would either win, or die.

"Thunderbolt—Thunderbolt! THUNDERBOLT!"

Lightning shot down from the sky and coursed through the water, tearing the ocean apart. I suddenly felt myself spasm uncontrollably as the electricity ripped everything to shreds, pain I thought I would never survive. He roared out, so loud I thought it might burst my eardrums. Blood was filling the water from my wide, jagged wounds, thick red that swirled upwards around me.

But Captain Latanica was still there—

Bubbles, spinning away into the light above. Freezing water rushing across my face, as his icy hand pushed me deep under the waves.

A thousand icy claws were suddenly tearing my chest apart from inside. I heard Captain Latanica's wretched laugh of victory, just dimly—water pouring into my lungs, like rains of daggers into my heart. I could smell so much blood now—

Blood…the taste of everything hated by the world…

I could feel nothing, yet I could feel everything. I could hear fate's voice. I could hear the song of my life, of the ocean—my friend, my enemy.

There had been enough miracles, and there would be no more.

Light was filling my vision, nonexistent light that only told me that death was looming. It was all around, flashing, shining—

I'm sorry, Joaquin...

All my life, I have lived by the ocean, my ocean. It was my love, my heart, my life. But today, it will become my grave—my icy, cold grave, one with the fallen ghosts of Boat Quay. Today, it will become my heaven…

"Stop this, Garren!"

The light suddenly vanished, the dragging force relinquishing me. I burst out of the water, so dark. Rain began to shower over me in bucketfuls, the world filled with sparks and rain. I felt like my bones were shattered, like my throat had been torn from neck. All around me, there was mist, slowly gathering, under the rain.

"Stop it!"

A figure materialised and floated towards Latanica. "Stop it, Garren," she repeated.

Her voice. The voice of the mist. The gentle, lulling song that had saved me the night before. I knew who it was—his sister! The one who had waited so long for her brother to return.

Aspen, was it? Aspen Latanica.

"We've been over this a hundred times, Aspen. I won't go. Why would my answer change?" He swung a forceful punch at her, but she dodged out of the way in a whirl of mist, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Because she's here." She turned to me, acknowledging my presence. I was shivering again, as I watched without moving, waves washing my wounds, pain throbbing in me from everywhere.

Captain Latanica spat. "Her? She's just a pest. She destroyed my cabins. She erased five of my crew members—"

"For her brother."

Suddenly they were both silent, and the sound of water rose to replace the sound of their voices.

Aspen drew backwards. "She came to destroy you for that. You are about to kill her brother."

Captain Latanica was unmoved. "I do what I please," his answer was full of darkness, and anger I didn't understand. "I died here. Why shouldn't everyone else die here too? To die at sea, and never reach heaven—they must know how it feels!" He panted and clenched his fists, giving a roar filled with his pain.

"But I do want you to come with me to heaven," she replied, pain swelling in her own voice. "You don't want it, Garren! Is this why?" It was burning, her voice. "Don't you ever think of who you're killing each time?"

She stopped, gasping with tears. Her strength wavered, a boundary crossed. He was about to attack her once more, but suddenly his resolve faded.

Aspen began to cry.

"Don't you know how much it hurts…to have you brother leave, and never return?"

My throat suddenly ached as she said those words. Never return? Joaquin—

I didn't want to know. I neverwanted to know.

"Ten years ago," she whispered, suddenly smiling sarcastically. "Ten years ago, I watched my brother leave the port of Singapore. He promised with a smile that he would come back, and tell me the tales of his voyages. And I waited for him, sleepless for half my nights, waited for him to return! Where were you?"

Tears were sliding freely down my cheeks now, mingled with rain on my face, washed away by waves before they could fall into the sea by themselves. Never had wondered about it before, the mere after-note of the story—the story of the sailor's sister Aspen.

Now I thought of her, as I looked up into those pain-wracked eyes. I thought of her waiting at the edge of the sea, everyday, for an entire lifetime. I thought of her watching the horizon, heart pounding for an empty dream. For something she should have stopped hoping for, long ago.

Captain Latanica glanced towards me. But what did he see? His eyes were empty.

"Garren!" The pleading in Aspen's voice broke my heart. "She has suffered enough. Don't bring her any more pain, for the sake of her love. Just let go of it, Garren, and come with me. I promise you'll never need to be angry again. I promise everything will be better after this…"

He turned back to her and didn't move, didn't speak. He seemed to be at war with himself, eyes narrowed angrily.

Suddenly, he gave a roar full of thunder and fell to his knees in midair. The sky seemed to be waiting. He was on the brink of madness, battling with himself—terrified, hopeless, lost.

Then, slowly, his voice came, hoarse and soft.

"As—Aspen…I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" He stepped forward towards her, shaking, broken, full of truthfulness. "I'll tell you of my adventures here! I'll tell you of everything I've seen, Aspen. This ocean is beautiful!"

Then he looked at me. "It won't happen again, Jada. He will be safe. I'll keep him safe!"

In those eyes, I saw a human. A deep, broken soul. I thought about him suddenly—the ferryman that Garren Latanica had once been. I recalled the way he had spoken of his destroyed crewmen. I recalled the way they had sprung to his aid with such faithfulness—and I wondered suddenly about what he had been, as a person. Not a monster.

A man with hopes and dreams, just like any other. A man who had been denied all these things by fate.

I knew someone else like that. He waited all the time at the ocean side, empty and full of suffering. Shouldn't Captain Latanica be just as broken?

Garren shakily took Aspen's hand. His eyes were cast down in sadness, in hope. He was crying too, bright tears falling into the sea. What would he be leaving behind here? He would forget his pain, forget his anger. He would lose the friends that had accompanied him into death.

The breeze rose, and they began to ascend together into the sky. I finally saw the doubt leave the captain's face, slowly—until he finally dared to smile.

The mist was surrounding me, full of magic. "I'll keep him safe," he said, and his voice was suddenly filled with life, growing and growing. The captain waved one hand over the water, and the currents began to shift.

I swear I could feel their joy, and the strength of their promises, like sunlight, as they left the ocean. I swear the world stood still, and the winds bowed in honour. I wanted to hold onto that feeling forever.

Suddenly I heard something—something that had haunted me so long, a song that had come to me, across the waters, on some nights of the full moon.

Here it was again—the song of the Heaven's Hope.

"Onward, onward, never-ending

Take the path across the sea

Where to? We don't care or wonder

Onward, onward, endlessly!"

There they were, cruising away. Their voices were spirited as the wind, as they looked out to the blue waters, singing. The crewmen were walking across the deck carrying ropes, anchors and mops, smiling as they worked and sang with routine diligence, sailing the ship towards their unknown destination.

A splash. Turning back, I saw a lantern bobbing in the water. And somehow, its light was still burning—that final light that had shone on Captain Latanica's crewmen, as they had approached their twilight. I reached out and took it, cradling it in my arms. It was beautiful.

The sun shone just beyond the clouds. Had it all really ended? I had never thought it would happen this way. Had I ever, once, expected this ending?

Tired, I looked out at the endless waters and began to swim, taking bearings from the sun. Then I felt a tap on my back. Turning, my mouth fell open. It was my rowboat, whole and untouched—but wet. Shouting out in thanks to Captain Latanica, I quickly grabbed onto its side, and with a short struggle, I managed to climb onto it again.

There weren't any oars, but that didn't quite matter—the currents were flowing northwards, and would take me home.

Sighing, I settled in, the smell of salt filling my nose. I leaned my head against the bench and let my clothes and hair dry under the pleasant sunlight, waiting lazily for the coast to finally come into view.

Home, to wish my brother farewell.

As the sky slowly darkened, I could see the port lights growing at the edge of the sea. They continued to grow, and by the time I came close enough to hear the sounds of the port, I could tell that there was a small crowd of people there.

Shocked, I quickly pulled myself onto the bench and waited, willing the tiny boat to move faster.

The first thing I heard was my name.

"JADA! Where in the world have you been?"

A staff flared into brightness, and I looked up into its blinding light, blinking. I could see my brother holding it up, sustaining a bright Dispel. "Joaquin!" I screamed out in reply, throat shockingly clear and free of pain. "JOAQUIN! I'm here!"

As the rowboat bumped against the granite wall, I came to a stop. I stood up on the rocking boat, amid the anxious shouts of my family and the gentle rushes of the waves on the wall.

The instant I placed my weight on the ground, I was swept by dizziness, and fell back against my brother. "You look drunk," he commented. I slapped his arm and laughed.

I saw my mother running over from the corner of my eye. Abruptly, she took me in her arms.

"Two nights! I can't believe you ran away to sea for two nights!" She sounded furious, tearful. "How could you? We were all worried half to death! Why?" All I did was look down.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of the old man while we walked, sitting on the edge of the port, as always. Seeing his subdued sorrow, I excused myself and walked over to him.

"Jada—whatever were you thinking, going out into the sea like that alone?" his voice was reprimanding. I looked at him and smiled.

"The story has a new ending," I replied, his eyes widening beneath the shadow of his hat. "The story of Garren and Aspen Latanica—it's finally found the closure you wanted." Sitting down beside him, I turned to face the starlit bay with a sigh.

And so I began. This time, I was the one telling the story—the story of a man whose life had been destroyed by his dreams, a man who had become a monster—and had found his final, shining solace in love and truth, somewhere in heaven.

The morning was still young. The mist was rising from the ocean again, and the water was a deep blue, reflecting the colour of the lightening sky; the shape of the full moon above us.

Was I the only one who heard that distant song?

My brother was at the edge of the gangplank, the bridge into his next life. Tears were rising as I hugged him one last time and patted his back, praying for his safety.

"Come on, it's only a year!" Joaquin tried to encourage me, with a slightly sad smile. "Just wait for me, 'kay? When I come back, I'll tell you about my travels!"

His words made me start to cry.

"I'll be the same level as you by the time I come back," he said with a grin, a challenge. "And then, you'll be so envious of me!" Nodding, I stepped back. He waved once more and turned, crossing the plank and entering the boat.

Another ship was being loaded in the port. I caught sight of the captain, and it made me smile. He turned to me briefly and waved while he instructed his new crew—that old man, who had finally left his place on the seaside, and had finally returned to the call of the ocean.

The waves were still reflected on his gaze—a thoughtful gaze that never lost its depth. But there was adventure there too—wild, burning adventure that would never be quelled again.

This wasn't the same as the life that Ralph had once known. He had once sailed every sea, crossing the deepest distances in perilous storms. He had taken his ship to the corners of the world—and this would be nothing, compared to those times.

But at least he would be with the love of his life again—the deep, singing waters that had always been at his side, the world that he had been born to. It was my world, my love too, wasn't it?

The boat was almost fully loaded now, and I began to think. It would be a year, at least. A long, painful year.

And if something were to happen to him, and he did not return?

No—no crying, no silent anger and self-pity. I would go out and look for him, just like Aspen had. Look, until I could look no more.

The dawn was upon us. The ship's horn gave a merry call, and with a hum, the propeller of the boat whirred to life in a wash of bubbles. The mist shifted hurriedly away as the boat began to move, cutting through the currents towards its destination.

My mother put her arm around my shoulders. She turned to leave, and I was about to too.

Then I suddenly noticed some kind of indistinct brightness in the sky, where the departing boat was. Rubbing my eyes, I blinked and looked on, trying to make sense of what I saw.

Then as the image became clearer, my mouth opened in awe.

Two bright shapes in the arc of sky, just above the small vessel, gazing down, no more than a shining mirage. But not just any ordinary shapes—Garren and Aspen Latanica, side by side, keeping watch over my brother's boat. Looking even closer, I saw that the captain was smiling, gazing out at the ocean, his old dream, with pride.

I waved, and beamed back at me.

All the time, as I walk down the beach, I see driftwood on the tide line, among other odds and ends. Who knows? Those could be parts of a great sunken ship, one whose story could fill pages.

The day is still vivid in my memory, indelible. I can almost see the ghosts as they vanish, crying for lost hope. I can hear the roar of the tides from below; feel the coldness of the ghosts as they come to surround me.

I even remember losing my staff.

Maybe, one day, my missing Doomsday will wash up on the beach, among the pieces of driftwood. What will the children think when they find it? Will they wonder about its tale, about how it ended up in the sea?

From now, I will look out across the waters every day. I swore that I would be there when Joaquin finally returned, and so I will. I will wait.

Suddenly, I can understand how Aspen must have felt—my heart flutters in my chest, everyday, as I stand at the edge of that same jetty in the ocean wind, seeking out the shape of a moving ship in the distance. How nervous I feel! How wild my imagination, when I see a shadow on the horizon.

Someday, he will be back, I know. Someday, I will hear his tales, and they will be wonderful. But until then, I will watch the tides, remembering it—the breathtaking day when I heard, for the first time, the lyrical, majestic song of the sea.