“Do you feel it?” Katrina whispered, though she knew Daisy could not answer.

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Katrina felt a tug—subtle at first, then undeniable. It wasn’t just the pull of the tide; it was a force that seemed to reach into her marrow, into the very core of who she was. Her heart thudded against her ribs, a drumbeat echoing the rhythm of the waves. She stared down at Daisy, whose eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and fierce resolve.

: The event centers on three primary figures—Katrina, Colt, and Daisy Rae.

Katrina lay on the sand, clutching the silver locket she’d found tangled in seaweed—her grandmother’s. Inside, a small key rested, cold as the night. She lifted her head, and there, on a rock, was a weathered wooden box, half-buried in the sand, its hinges rusted, its lid sealed.

But the sea was already swallowing. A thick, black foam lapped at her boots, creeping up her calves, sliding over her shins, and then, as if it had a mind of its own, began to rise up her legs, wrapping around her like kelp. The water was cold enough to bite, but colder still was the sensation of being absorbed —as if the ocean were trying to claim her story, her memories, everything she had ever been.

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