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The pinks, oranges, and greens of the coral caught the sunlight like pages of the atlas that used to lay unrolled across my father’s desk.
The sea turned violet with dusk, and the last gasping glitter of light danced on the surface of the water as the sun disappeared.
It was growing darker with every minute, but I took hold of the rope and followed it down into the shadows of the kelp forest, where the towering, ribbonlike strands reached up from the seafloor in thick, wavering threads. From below, their leaves looked like a golden rooftop, casting the water green.
The rain began to fall as I waited in the alley, the mist that fell over Dern pushing through the streets like the spirit of a long-dead river.
Candles fixed into old, grimy rye bottles were set on almost every surface, their light flickering off every shiny thing tucked into corners, on shelves, laid out on tables.
Tempest Snare rose above the calm water like the ridged backs of submerged dragons.