the tidekeeper

Her wrath tore me from my fitful sleep. It was primal and heart-wrenching. Fear gripped me—an instinctual terror that made me want to crawl under my bed like a child. What could She need? Never in my twenty-eight years on Eira Island had I felt such rage from Her. Splashes of the high tide lashed violently against my window panes, jolting me from my frozen state.

I rushed outside, neglecting to even grab a wrap or tie my sandals on, tripping over my shell trinkets and driftwood talismans scattered across the cottage floor. The moonlight illuminated Her wrath in the crashing waves, and the wild, howling wind. Briny seawater and my tangling hair whipped at my face and neck. Oh, She was furious! The wind threatened to knock me down, but I pressed on, running closer to the raging sea. The sand and broken shells irritated the calloused soles of my feet, but I spread my arms wide and let Her rage envelop me.

“Please… tell me! What is the cause of your anger? What can I do to remedy it?” My voice did not reach my own ears, lost to the violent winds and the crashing of Her waves. Yet, I knew the sea heard me. She always heard me.

But this time, She did not answer. Her fury only grew… and with it, a deep, insatiable hunger.

“What is it you need? I will give it to you!” I screamed. A supplication? A ritual? A lengthy prayer?

No answer.

Her dark waves were blurred by the tears in my eyes. My strength was waning. I could feel Her power pulling me, threatening to claim me—and with me, Eira Island.

I looked down at my white nightdress, now stained red. The seafoam, gathering over the sand after each swell, was tinted with crimson—a message. Sobs wracked my body, and I was dangerously close to Her ferocious high tide, close enough that I could be swallowed at a moment’s notice.

I was Eira Island’s only Tidekeeper. It was my sworn duty to keep the sea at bay and to calm Her tides. I could not run away now. If I did, Eira Island would be swallowed by the next evening.

Stay calm, Maren.

The wind grew more turbulent, knocking me to my knees. I pressed my hands into the sand to hold myself steady and recited the Hide Tide’s Prayer through trembling lips. The words came out in rushed, stuttered fragments.

Hunger.

It gnawed at my bones and shook me from my prayer—a ravenous, consuming need that hollowed my insides.

“I am open to you,” I whispered. “Pour all of your anger into me. Let me bear your hunger. I will endure it, so that you may feel peace again.”

She crashed into me. Briny water filled my nose and ears. My face and arms stung from the lashing of seawater. I wanted to scream, but I held my breath instead as Her current pulled me under. The howling of the wind and the crashes of Her waves abruptly stopped and were replaced with the sedative sound of being underwater. The bitter coldness of the night sea made me freeze. I was helpless to Her, the tide and current whipping me around like a doll.

I hear you. I feel you, I prayed to Her.

Calm.

She spit me back out onto the shores, the shells scratching at my skin as I rolled violently over the sand. I retched on my hands and knees. The tangy seawater burned my throat as it came back up. Coughing, coughing, and more coughing… until the chilly night air filled my lungs once more. The winds calmed. Her high tide had ended, and the sea had returned to Her beautiful azure color, lapping at the shores.

Yet, my dress was still stained red.

* * *

“Maren, do not be so reckless again. You do understand what would have happened to the rest of us, had She consumed you last night,” Elder Cain rebuked as he carefully slathered a medicinal kelp rub with his bony fingers over the gash on my knee. Elder Cain was the closest person I ever had to a father. He was also the most knowledgeable on Tidekeepers and our duties. He had lived through five of us, and I was the oldest Tidekeeper he had witnessed in his life at twenty-eight years of age—something I was undeniably proud of, but I wondered what that might mean for the rest of my days here on this island.

“I couldn’t have done anything differently.” I winced as he placed a cloth poultice over my wound. “She was angry… and so incredibly hungry for something. She wouldn’t answer any of my calls. I have no idea what it is She hungers for.”

He sighed and tried to distract himself by tending to my wound, but his furrowed brows gave away a kind of sorrow. Elder Cain had raised me from a babe until I was able to live in the Tidekeeper’s cottage on my own at just nine years of age, away from everyone. The other islanders on Eira Island always kept their distance, only communicating with me when necessary. Secretly, I envied them and their freedom, and late at night, I fell asleep imagining a life where I could work as a seamstress or a healer, choose a loving partner, and start my own family. Yet, mothers scolded their children for playing with me, and the men and women of the island showed me no romantic interest. They feared me. No—they feared Her, and they saw Her in me. Elder Cain had instilled in me that the islanders just didn’t understand and that I ought to love them all the same. I did love them. I lived for them.

In fact, Elder Cain taught me everything I needed to know about being a Tidekeeper. It was my responsibility to keep the sea calm, listen to Her needs, and answer Her calls. Only the Tidekeepers could let in Her energy and control Her. Without us, She would have consumed Eira Island hundreds of years ago.

Last night was the second incident in two weeks that I was almost unable to restrain Her. The first was when She washed up hundreds of rotten, bloated flounder, mackerel, and rockfish onto the shores. I had been performing my daily rites and saying my prayers just as diligently as always when it happened. Her wrath enveloped me then, and when I asked why, She didn’t offer an explanation—just as last night.

The islanders watched me study the fish, Her waves, Her high and low tides. They whispered amongst each other, concerns and accusations. I wished them to stop, only so She wouldn’t grow restless from all of their negativity. Elder Cain was also uneasy, lecturing me more often and delivering an overabundance of supplies for my devotions and prayers, unable to make eye contact.

Perhaps they were right to worry. I feared not being able to control Her any longer. I feared failing them all. I worried that I would be the sole reason behind Eira Island’s demise at Her hands.

Elder Cain interrupted my racing thoughts.

“Tomorrow, you will need to complete the Deep Ritual. It’s our best attempt at appeasing Her. Prepare from now, and I will meet you at Kaia Cove at twilight,” Elder Cain ordered. He left the room in a hurry before I had the chance to answer him.

* * *

I had only performed the Deep Ritual twice until now. Both times the rituals had been requested by Her. I worried that completing the ritual now would only anger Her more, but Elder Cain knew better than myself. I was not going to question his knowledge—not at a time like this.

I grabbed my seagrass straw bag and collected everything I had prepared: butterfly jasmine soap and a sponge (for cleansing), driftwood talismans entwined with whispered prayers to Her (for guidance), spotted conches and scallops carefully wrapped with long strips of seaweed (for protection), a ritual knife and a small glass vial (for supplication).

Near my cottage was a tide pool that only Tidekeepers were permitted to enter, and only for ceremonies such as the Deep Ritual. The tide pool was dangerous. One could only enter during low tide, and even then, Her unpredictable current might sweep one under if not careful enough. I crawled into Her waters, one foot at a time, staying on guard for any changes to Her tide.

The high noon sun marked the first part of the ritual—the tide pool bath. I scrubbed the butterfly jasmine soap with the sea sponge. The suds were difficult to form in the salt water, but eventually, a soft lather formed, and I cleansed my body with it. Her waters were calm today, and I thanked Her as I bathed.

I dried under the warm and inviting sun rays, and a thin coating of salt remained on my skin. It was time to take the sacred path to Kaia Cove, and I would arrive just before twilight. I prayed to Her as I walked, promising that I could take care of Her and keep Her at peace. I asked Her to confide in me once again when She was ready.

* * *

Distant voices interrupted my communications with Her and caught my curiosity. Only Tidekeepers and Elders visited the cliffs above Kaia Cove. Had Elder Cain brought along the other elders to assist in the Deep Ritual? Surely not, as they would only distract me and hinder the ritual itself. I called out Elder Cain’s name, and the voices hushed abruptly.

Elder Cain rushed toward me and motioned for me to join him up on the cliff. I waved and began carefully walking up the jagged, rough rocks. The sun was about to set, just in time for the ritual to begin. I cleared my thoughts for Her.

As more of the cliff crested into my view, I squinted my eyes at the group of people close to the edge of the jagged rocks: Three elders including Elder Cain, a man and a woman sitting on the rocks, and an infant girl in one of the elder’s arms. What had I stumbled into?

The sea answered my confusion with a violent slap of a wave against the cliff. Her anger was returning. I could feel it. I picked up my pace, cautious not to trip and scrape anything against the rough rocks.

“What are they doing here?” My voice was only slightly louder than Her growing waves. “Her wrath is growing, even worse than before. All of them need to leave here immediately so I can carry out the Deep Ritual!” I yelled at Elder Cain.

He grabbed my arm once I was within reach. “Give me your bag,” he said, then forcefully took it from my person.

“What in the damned abyss is wrong with you? I need those items for the ritual!” I tried to snatch the bag back, but Elder Cain’s grip on my arm was surprisingly strong, causing me to yelp in pain. As if She heard my cries, the sea hit the rocks with a roaring, crashing wave. Her splashes reached over the cliff, drenching Elder Cain and myself, along with the others near the edge. The sun would soon set, and the ritual needed to be completed. Her wrath was coming.

Elder Cain dragged me by my arm to the others. The man and woman, both slightly older than myself with ashy blonde hair and tan skin from working in the sun, were sitting on the ground, weak and disoriented. They looked up at me with wide eyes. The woman was crying profusely.

The infant, I realized, was their daughter, and she looked to be perhaps a year old. She writhed in the elder’s arms and reached her little arms out toward her mother and father.

“Tell me what is happening, Cain! Why have you numbed them?” I screamed.

“I was so proud of you,” he shouted over Her tumultuous waves. “Twenty-eight years is the oldest any Tidekeeper has lived, and for that reason, I thought you were the one—the Tidekeeper that could finally give Her what She needed. I thought She would accept you, unlike the others. I was foolish. She needs your energy now. A new Tidekeeper is to be brought up so that the island will continue to live. I hope you understand that your sacrifice is so that many can live. Their sacrifice as well.” He motioned to the parents.

“Sacrifice? What are you—” I couldn’t finish speaking. Too many things were happening. Did he intend to let Her take my life? And this child was to become the new Tidekeeper?

“The sea. She took the lives of your mother and father along with the life of the previous Tidekeeper. In turn, She became your mother. That connection is what allows you to control Her, but She grows restless as the years go by… She grows hungry for more life. We must feed her. We must appease her. Now, fulfill your final duty as Eira Island’s Tidekeeper, just as those before you did.” Elder Cain squeezed my shoulder gently and smoothed my hair—fatherly gestures he used to do when I was young. I looked away from him and at the little girl with curly hair like mine, except hers was red where mine was golden. “The child’s parents are willing to make this sacrifice. It is their duty as much as it is yours. But we need you to hurry, Maren,” he yelled. “Their numbing will soon wane, and the sun will soon set.”

The makeshift altar near the edge of the cliff looked the same as it would have for the Deep Ritual— a rough canvas cloth spread out and hung over the edge of the rocks. Adorned with a green and blue swirled design carefully painted on its stitches, the cloth overlooked Kaia Cove and dripped with seawater. The wind picked up the edges of the cloth, fluttering them around. The ritual would be the same, except instead of simply offering Her some of my blood in a vial, She would be taking three lives… one of them being mine.

Elder Cain pulled me toward the altar as the other elders helped maneuver the mother and the father onto the painted canvas cloth. I sat down slowly next to them, and Elder Cain placed all of the necessary items in my bag out within my reach for the ritual. I didn’t resist him. I could never resist Elder Cain.

Elder Cain always knew best, didn’t he? It was my duty to do whatever was necessary to keep everyone safe from Her. I had always known that one day my duty as Tidekeeper would mean death… that I would need to die to keep everyone safe. Yet, I never thought that I would be asked to sacrifice myself.

…I was just a device to them, wasn’t I?

The sea roared Her waves into the cliff and drenched us all.

Now they were to throw me away like a cracked and rusted cauldron… because they thought me useless? They would only do the same to that infant girl in a few decades’ time, and that’s if she was lucky.

A downpour of rain fell onto us in an instant, a mixture of fresh and briny water. Thunder cracked nearby, and the little girl began to scream—she would grow up lonely and feared, just as I had.

Suddenly, I hated them all. I hated them for isolating me, using me, confining me. I hated them for doing the same to the women and girls before me, to this girl who would succeed me.

I clasped my hands together and looked down. My dress was stained red. The altar cloth was stained red.

They were right to fear me. They were right to fear the sea, because I was She, and She was I.

I ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped. The elders screamed out for me, but I let the rain and Her waves drown them out. I would ruin this ritual, the island, and their plans.

My back hit the crimson waves with a slap, yet I felt no pain—only wrath. My wrath, Her wrath, the other Tidekeepers’ wrath.

Our wrath. We were one.

Wait! I called out to the others. Let us keep the girl.

They agreed, and we were set free.

We soared our briny waters into the sky with all of the grief and anger that the sea could hold and collided violently with the rocky cliff over and over. With so much force our waves battered the cliff until it was nothing but dust, swallowing all who had stood on it.

We would not be controlled anymore.

Our crimson waves, festered with the sea’s restless and ancient spirit surged past the shores. We uprooted trees from the soil, flooded the paths of the islanders’ village, splintered the wood of their homes, and tore roofs off. There was nowhere for the islanders to hide as we filled the entire island with our icy waters.

Our tide was unleashed from years of suppression, destroying everything and everyone in our path in an instant.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over.

Relief.

Our tide receded, leaving the island in ruins, now nothing more than a memory swept away by the sea’s unforgiving embrace.

We left behind a silence that was almost deafening.

And in that silence, I laughed. It materialized in soft, undulated waves that rippled throughout the azure waters, no longer crimson. The sea was at peace. We were at peace.

She released me from Her waters, and I walked out onto Eira Island’s shores with my body, reborn, able to return home to Her at any time. I was light and untethered. I stretched my limbs, savoring this newfound freedom, before strolling to the Tidekeeper’s cottage—the only structure left standing after our destruction. I creaked open the door, and the infant girl sat on the wooden floor chewing on a piece of driftwood attached to a thin string. She looked up at me with wide, uncertain eyes.

“Come, Calypso,” I beckoned.

The curly-headed girl hesitated before running to me and burying her face into my dress. I ran my fingers through her hair and hummed a mother’s sea shanty—one of comfort and strength. Calypso would come to know the beautiful ways of the sea and Her untameable nature, just as I did. Nobody would confine Her again.

“And nobody will confine you either, Calypso. For your soul is bound to the tides and Her immeasurable greatness,” I whispered.