The tide came in with a sound like breathing. Slow. Heavy. Rhythmic. It washed over the sand, licking at the boots of the refugees who stood watching. They were exhausted. Their clothes were stiff with frozen sweat. Their faces were chapped from the wind. But here, on the coast, the air was different. It smelled of kelp and salt and something else. Something metallic. Like blood in the water.
Ezra stood at the water's edge. He had been there for an hour. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just watched the waves. They were warm. He had tested it. He had dipped his hand in again and again. The heat radiated from the surface. Steam rose where the cold air met the warm sea.
Behind him, the camp was forming. Varen was directing the placement of the tents. They were using the sails from the b
