The Sea Daughter

They say she was born from the sea, with not a father’s, nor a mother’s blood flowing through her veins. There was never a clue to her existence, just a story, a legacy. Mia, like every other young daughter who eventuated Suli, was aware of the story, more so the burden it came with. The sea was sacred, treated by its subjects as a god. The Suli people built temples and monuments, branding their foreheads with her symbol.

Mia had never quite understood it, unlike the other daughters, she had never felt the imperceptible pull, but the girl who had walked from the sea only to sacrifice herself back to it was a story she treasured. Water spirits were not uncommon on Suli, and like the sea itself, were treated with the utmost respect, for they were, simply put, carriers of her word, of her power.

Suli revolved around its faith, so when Mia stood before to Council on her eighteenth turn, her words cut deep. She was a daughter of Suli, and yet standing among the other girls she felt foreign, her own white hair a stark contrast to the traditional black, and her obsidian eyes piercing through the veil of green. eleelea, they called her. Unclean. She had never known her father, just as no Suli daughter does, and yet her lineage was questioned in whispers around her town. She recalled begging her mother to change her hair, but her mother scolded her, whispering back tales of white-haired soldiers. But these were tales, just as the tama teine ​​sami, the sea daughter.

That day standing in front of the Council, Mia spoke her heart. The shock rang around the room, and her sisters scowled at her disobedience. She had expressed her desire to leave Suli, to search for her father. No daughter had left Suli since the First Wave, and to do so was considered banishment. Her mother stood stoically, sad at her daughter’s choice but proud of her fight for freedom. Mia’s mother had fallen pregnant before the First Wave, and Mia was born the day of. Her birth brought celebration, as people believed the sea daughter had returned. It became apparent that Mia was not the sort - just different. 

“Mia?” The only voice other than her mother’s that Mia had hoped not to hear, stopped her as she exited to the temple. Elei stood with her arms by her side, a look of disappointment painted on her face. Mia had met Elei when she was a child. The girl had been born two months after her, their mothers having been friends before the Wave. Mia had always admired the headstrong girl. She was everything she had ever wanted to be, but now looking at her, Mia felt a wave of sorrow. “Mia, did you mean that?” She whispered softly. “Are you leaving us?” Mia nodded and swallowed a lump in her throat. Daughters like Elei lived and breathed Suli traditions. They painted their hands white, they sang the songs, and when called, they gave themselves to the sea. It was something Mia had once greatly admired about her friend. Elei was a people pleaser, and Mia remembered the girl telling her that when she grew to be of age, she would happily give her blood to tama teine ​​sami. Mia had nodded in agreement, but it was the first time she had began to question Suli’s traditions. How could the very thing that brought them life demand such a harsh sacrifice? A look of sorrow fell on Elei’s face, and she turned to go back to the temple. “Talosia ia e le sami lou auala”, she whispered with a silent salute. May the sea give you your way. Mia fell back, as Elei disappeared into the temple. She could hear the singing inside, and it pulled at her heart. She could go back, the sun had not yet set. She could go back to her mother, to Elei. She turned to a small rock pool beside her and gazed at her reflection. No, she couldn’t go back. Every part of her screamed eleelea, every part of her begged her to leave. She smiled at the temple and returned the silent salute. 

Mia’s mother had not given her much to aid her journey, and Mia had never ventured off the island before. What was she trying to find? She didn’t even know. Answers, she supposed, although according to Suli lore, the world over the sea was a twisted, dark place, hidden for protection. She had no boat, no way to cross the sea, so she roamed around the island aimlessly for days.

Suli was large, and the daughters kept within its limits, away from forested parts, away from danger. She fed off forest fruits and vegetables and was pleased to find an abundance of Game where she strayed. Daughters ate well, and the only thing the Council prohibited was the consumption of sea-born creatures, however, meat was a rarity. Whilst she treasured her freedom, as dark fell on her fourteenth day, she found herself aching for comfort. She missed Elei’s meaningless banter, and Tamah’s obnoxiously loud laugh, but mostly her body ached for her mother’s arms.

She was still yet to find a way off the island but had spent her days reading the lore her mother gave her before she’d left. They were written in Armen, a language Mia had been taught when she was a child. She remembered her mother speaking it to her in quiet, how she angrily hushed Mia when the little girl had tried to show it off to her friends. Suli law forbade the teaching of other languages, so children grew up with Suli and nothing else. Mia’s mother had written the books for her in Armen, and handed them to her under a piece of dark cloth. The stories she told echoed through Mia’s mind, and she wondered if this were truly who she was. Armen had come easy to her, and reading descriptions of Armen people, she felt a pang of familiarity. 

On that fourteenth day, as night began to fall, she sat beside a small pool covered by trees, and read the story of the mut’ zinvorner. The Dark Soldiers. A shiver ran down her spine as her eyes flowed over her mother’s words. The mut’ zinvorner were ruthless creatures who guarded Armen. These soldiers had hair the color of clouds and ruled the streets of their country. Before the First Wave, Suli daughters had gone to Armen, in hopes of developing a trading relationship, but they were met with violence. Her mother had been one to go, and the only one to come back bearing a child. Her mother had kept quiet as the Council relayed stories of violence, only whispering to Mia in hushed Armen the stories of the gentle soldiers.

Mia sat reading the book in silence when suddenly a small light appeared out of the corner of her eye. She blinked and looked up. It was still there. She placed the book down and stood up, making her way to the soft yellow light that danced above the water. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just playing around.” The voice was soft but made Mia squeal in shock. She turned suddenly and saw a young woman sitting on one of the rocks. She was beautiful, her light hair cascading in waves on her dark skin, the faintest yellow glow emitting from her body. She wore a simple white dress, that flowed softly in the non-existent breeze, and her green eyes observed Mia carefully. 

“He?” Mia stuttered, taking a step towards the woman, as if under a trance. The woman nodded.

“He’s teasing me.” She stated in mock annoyance. 

“Who- who are you?” Asked Mia, watching as the woman threw a stone at the glimmer of light. 

“Natia,” she replied, her gaze returning to Mia. The woman spoke perfect Suli, but Mia had never seen her before. 

“Are you vai agaga?” Asked Mia cautiously. Water spirits were kind creatures, but catch one alone and you’d likely find yourself being dragged hair first to the Council for reprimand. Natia scoffed and Mia frowned. 

“Of course not,” she said, her hand on her chest taking offense to Mia's suggestion. 

“Then what-“ Natia held up her hand and Mia’s mouth stopped moving. The girl watched as the beautiful woman turned her attention to the water. She lifted her hand and the water lifted with it. Mia’s eyes widened and she fell into a deep bow.

“my tama teine ​​sami,” she gasped, “please forgive my ignorance.” Natia narrowed her eyes, as Mia lifted her head. 

“Stand,” she ordered, and Mia got back to her feet. “You speak my language and yet you look like him?” 

“I beg your pardon,” pleaded Mia, “I am a Suli daughter, just as my mother.” Natia looked unimpressed. 

“I thought the daughters stayed away from the forests?” She pondered questioningly. Mia nodded, her hands going to her hair instinctively. “You are afraid,” noted Natia, offering for Mia to sit beside her. Mia took the offer, her eyes not meeting the sea daughter’s. “There is no need to be, I once knew of another who looked like you.” Mia frowned. “Oh yes,” laughed Natia, “they don’t teach Suli girls lore anymore?” Mia shook her head.

“My mother wrote me books, but she wrote them in Armen because the Council disapproves.” Natia rolled her eyes.

“Of course they do, a bunch of stuck-up pricks.” Mia raised her eyebrows. “You really do look like him,” the woman mused. 

“Who?” Asked Mia respectfully. 

“My brother Hayk, you bear my mark, but you wear his skin.” Mia blushed her pale skin yet another contrast to the Suli people. 

“Respectfully,” began Mia cautiously, “why are you here?” Natia sighed and flicked another rock at the light.

“I was a child when my twin brother and I were split up. He remained on Armen, I was taken on a ship in the dead of night and thrown overboard as soon as Armen was no longer in sight. Mia gasped in horror but Natia shrugged. "I died that night in the sea, and yet the next morning I walked out onto the sands of Suli." Mia recalled the story of the sea daughter’s birth.

“tama teine ​​sami” she murmured, then frowned, “but your powers?” 

“Born from the sea, my vessel was not.” An uncertainty grew in Mia.

“But where have you been? The Suli people, we pray to you, why do you hide from us?”

“For just that daughter,” she mused, “they made me a saint, but banished me, telling a story of a sacrifice to the sea, for what rings better than a martyred hero.” Mia’s heart dropped and she felt betrayed. “I cannot leave my little prison,” Natia remarked, “I cannot even reach the source of my power.” She motioned to the water and the light that taunted her. Mia felt a wave of sorrow for the young woman, who appeared not much older than herself.

“You said you have a brother, Hayk-“ she began, determined to move away from Natia’s painful past. Natia’s eyes shone and she smiled. 

“Hayk stayed in Armen, he built an empire, his children bearing his sign where you bear mine.” 

“What happened to him?”

“He became a myth, just as I did, suffocated by his own creation.” She scoffed, reaching over to trace the Suli mark on Mia’s forehead, her fingers soft and cold. “You’re one of his,” she added, “but you’re also one of mine.” Mia felt a shiver run down her spine, as Natia’s fingers moved to her chin. The woman tilted Mia’s head back and smiled. 

“My brother and I lost our freedom a long time ago little girl, Suli made sure of it.” The First Wave. “I’m surprised you were not locked up.” She laughed at Mia’s confused look. “They made you believe you were a Suli pureblood? Branded you with my mark and threw you into their midst?” Mia shuddered, her voice empty. Natia dropped her chin and pressed her fingers to Mia’s forehead. A sharp pain seared through her head and Mia screamed. It lasted only seconds before Natia was holding her hand and guiding her to the water. 

“Welcome masaga” she whispered, as Mia stared at her reflection in the water. Her eyes glowed a deep green, and her forehead now displayed a new symbol. A symbol of freedom, a symbol of the twins.