Page 79 of Beacon

It was hard to imagine that something so beautiful could be so volatile. One moment the seas could be perfectly calm, the next a raging storm—just like the ocean inside me that either churned or remained still, depending on my emotions. Just like the ocean, whose connection with me was deeper than I’d initially supposed.

I ventured a step closer so the waves washed across not just my toes but my feet to lap almost cheerfully against my calves. The ocean was so gentle, reminding me it was a friend rather than something to fear…just like the voice I’d avoided for so long.

With each wave I felt my magic awakening, yet another part of myself I wanted to share with Owen that, like my past, I’d kept a secret for far too long. To show him my powers would force me to share the story of the tragedy they’d caused, something I wasn’t yet strong enough to do.

I’d unlock that story another day. I didn’t want to write it clumsily on my slate, neither did I want the words it’d contain to be the first ones I recaptured. Instead I wanted to rediscover beautiful words to add to the happiest one I already had in my possession.

I smiled. “Owen.” I said his name again, loving its familiarity on my tongue. Then after a moment to gather my bravery, I whispered the message I most wanted him to know in this moment. “Thank you.”

By the way he squeezed my hand, I sensed he knew all the unspoken words surrounding both his name and my next words, and although I couldn’t currently express them, I was determined to do all in my power to one day speak them.

And with both his and the ocean’s help, I knew that was a wish I’d be able to fulfill.

CHAPTER28

Every day in the week that followed, I continued pushing through my old fear that my voice had been the reason Mother had died in order to collect new words. At first I only gathered those I loved, desiring to reacquaint myself with the ones I felt were safe. For each one, Owen remained by my side; he never pressured me to speak, and whenever I did, he celebrated each word with me. His quiet encouragement stoked my growing desires to recapture my voice, making each acquisition easier than the last.

My next word after Owen’s name and my words of gratitude towards him was my own. Like with my first word, I spoke my second in only a whisper, as if each spoken word cautiously tiptoed from my lips, in hopes no one would notice, to explore this new world before hastily retreating to where it was safe.

Speaking my name again gave me a sense of ownership over the word, but for as much as I loved saying it, it was nothing to how much I adored Owen hearing it—I collected each of his warm smiles as eagerly as I gathered my new words, treasuring each.

Acquiring my name encouraged me to speak another, not Mother’s—for as much as I ached to speak it again, doing so would only make her absence more acute considering she’d never again answer to it. Instead I spoke another, one just as special.

“Father.”

While this word was also as dear to me as the person himself, it brought with it a sense of sadness. I stared across the horizon in hopes of seeing either his boat or Captain Farrell’s ship…but the sea remained empty. My heart ached, a pain his continued absence and unknown fate made impossible to soothe.

I glanced towards Owen with my usual questioning expression. He hesitated. “Still no word, but I’m sure we’ll receive news soon.”

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat and nodded. I didn’t want my third new word to be a bittersweet experience, so I considered another almost as precious to me, one I hoped speaking would create enough light to dispel the lingering shadows.

“Ocean.”

The moment I spoke the word out loud, the waves washing over my bare feet lingered, a sense that the sea was pleased and wanted to show its appreciation.I’ve missed you, I thought silently, and by the way my skin tingled as the water washed over me, I sensed it understood what I hadn’t yet been able to express.

I glanced towards Owen to find him with his usual gentle smile. “The ocean must be even more special to you than I initially supposed for it to be one of your first words.”

I crouched to run my fingers across its surface, as much as I had while on the boat when Owen and I had gone sailing. The warmth of my powers caressed my skin, a contrast to the cool water of the sea. I felt my magic’s increasing desire to be used, but now wasn’t the time.

“I’m sure you have many wonderful stories about the ocean,” Owen said.

“Love ocean.” If only I could tell him the depth of how much I loved the sea beyond those two words—how it was a part of me, a connection as deep as my very soul. The stories of our time together filled my mind, ones I ached to share…but to do that I’d need more words.

When I remained silent, Owen didn’t press me to speak, simply accepted my silence, acceptedme…and I cared for him all the more for it. Rather than filling the spaces between us with meaningless chatter, each word we exchanged conveyed an abundance of meaning, drawing us closer, even in moments of silence.

Every day, we spent hours together, often at the beach. The more I reacquainted myself with the ocean, the deeper my love for it grew. This growing connection roused my slumbering powers, causing them to expand within me until they hovered just beneath the surface, awaiting the moment I needed them. Whereas before, the thought of using my magic frightened me, now I only felt anticipation for the moment I’d be ready to embrace it once more.

But the expanding warmth that came from my time near the sea was nothing compared to the emotions filling my heart and growing brighter each day. It was as if summer had finally arrived after an endless winter, bringing daylight back to my life. The more the sun shone, the more it illuminated all the feelings I was beginning to feel for Owen.

The longer we spent together, the more our interactions shifted from clearly part of our charade to something more real, each one deepening the gradual shift in our relationship. And though the waters before us remained uncharted, it was a course I wanted nothing more than to sail. I yearned to discover where such a journey would take me, especially if the sea led me to the destination I most yearned for:him.

When we weren’t on the beach, we spent our time on my secret island. We never ventured to the enchanted pool; I was too content to allow its visions to disrupt the peace I was gradually reclaiming one grain of sand at a time. We simply enjoyed the island itself, a place becoming as dear to Owen as it was to me.

One morning he leaned back on his elbows and glanced towards the section of island harboring the hidden drop. “This is where you first spoke my name.”

My cheeks warmed at the memory. I’d still been so terrified of my voice then, only for it to gradually become more a part of me with each passing day.

“Owen,” I said, and even though he’d now heard me speak it dozens of times, he still smiled.

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