As night fell upon the fishing town of Bonpoi, Remy followed a path he had taken on many occasions. One, which he seemed to be travelling now more often than before.

  That morning, he had been fishing on the lake when he encountered something underneath the waves. The unseen terror had destroyed his fishing rod, and if he had been any unluckier, perhaps it would have destroyed his boat, too.

  This continued to play through his mind all day. That, along with what Max had told him, about how Julius had also felt something in the lakes.

  Venturing deep into the town, he soon reached the hut of Madame Carlotta Ruspoli. Her hut sat on the bank of an inlet that ran from the lakes to the deep town. All one was required to do was follow the small stream of water until they reached her. Often, residents of the town sailed small lantern boats along the stream, containing wishes, which Madame Ruspoli praised.

  But Remy had not come here for that. Wishes for money, romance and good health were not the only things that the Waveseer dealt with.

  A small light flickered inside her hut, which suggested to Remy that she was still awake, and willing to hear. Remy knocked on her door several times, before creeping to the small arch window nearby it, and calling, “Madame Ruspoli, it is Remy. I have an appointment.”

  He had not even returned to the front door when the diminutive woman opened it, and looked around for him. When her eyes met his, Remy felt a shock. There was something always so unnerving about the way her eyes glowed blue with such intensity. It was almost like looking up at the stars and seeing bright blue planets.

  “Good evening,” said Remy. “I’m sorry, I’ve been running late to everything of recent. I hope you will still hear for me tonight.”

  Madame Ruspoli grunted, beckoning him inside her hut. Remy followed, ducking through the entrance and then into the dim interior. Madame Ruspoli closed the door behind him. The river continued inside her hut, ending at a small circular pool bordered by glittering stones. There was a single cushion next to it, and a lantern. As always, another person was present, the Waveseer’s guide, a spindly bald man with a tattooed face. He was on his knees, on another cushion, with a towel draped over his shoulder.

  “Tea?” Madame Ruspoli inquired. She was walking over to the tea stand on the opposite end of the room. Remy could see that it was already steaming.

  “Thank you,” Remy said.

  Madame Ruspoli proceeded to pour him a cup, and Remy sat down on the cushion next to the pool of water. Once she was done, she walked over to him and placed it in his hands. Remy thanked her again. The Waveseer then stepped out of her slippers and dropped her robes to the floor. Remy drew his eyes away from her, until she had submerged herself completely inside the pool. The water came up to her shoulders, lapping against her wrinkled skin.

  Remy lifted the cup of tea to his lips and drew in its vapour. The tea smelled of rose petals, and vaguely of orange peels. He took a sip, then exhaled the day’s stress. He was not sure what the tea was made of, but it always seemed to have this calming effect on him.

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  “The Waveseer awaits you,” said the guide, to his right.

  “I was fishing this morning,” Remy said, once he had lowered the cup back down to his lap, “when I suddenly caught on something large, hidden underneath the waves. Now, you could say it was junk, or something inanimate that happened to be down there, but whatever this was, it actively worked against me. And it was no fish, I can be sure of that. I am no weakling, as you may be able to tell, and it was stronger even than I.” He thought for a minute, staring down into the swirling waters of his tea. “I saw its shadow move, for but a moment. I caught it with my eyes. I wonder, what threatens our town in the lakes?”

  The Waveseer hummed, as she floated in the pool.

  Remy noticed the tea in his cup ripple like a small stone had landed in it, but he had never been sure if this was an effect of the Waveseer, or just his nervous hands.

  “Something does stir,” said Madame Ruspoli, her azure eyes staring blankly. “It upsets the waves greatly. Yes, I hear its calling. A great, tormented monster. It comes with the storm. It comes with the storm.” She twitched her shoulders, spasming in the pool. A spot of blood oozed from her left eye, and began trickling down her cheek. “Foolish boy, you have upset it.”

  Remy nearly spat his drink. “What do you mean, I upset it?”

  “Something that has been done. The world put out of balance.”

  Remy scrunched up his face. What was this woman talking about? He had not brought this beast here!

  “This spirit is not kind,” said Madame Ruspoli. “It stirs in the deep lakes, testing the waters, but will only emerge with the storm. The storm comes. It is mere days away.”

  This was also odd to hear, considering there had not been a storm in Bonpoi for many months. It was not the season for such a thing. And, days away? Taking in the information, he frowned and drank from his swirling teacup. When he was finished, he asked the Waveseer, “What can we do to prepare the town for this storm?”

  “I cannot answer that,” she responded.

  Remy sighed. Of course. The Waveseer was always selective in what she was able to reveal. She seldom was able to offer advice, aside from what she heard in the waves.

  “I am afraid the Waveseer must soon be put to bed,” said the guide, who had remained on the side of the pool, knelt on the cushion with the towel in his arms.

  “Then that is all for this evening,” said Remy. He took another sip of his tea, and then stood up, somewhat despondent. As he turned around, Madame Ruspoli spoke again, unprovoked.

  “You are clouded tonight.”

  Remy startled, turning back around to see her still in the pool, watching with her inhuman eyes. This was new. Madame Ruspoli was never one to initiate a statement or question of her own. “How do you mean?” Remy asked her.

  “I refer to your friend.”

  “Who? Max?”

  “The one whose stories you read at night.”

  Remy, who had worn a half-smile at the ridiculous notion that he was for some reason or another preoccupied with thoughts of Max, now stood expressionless. His smile had sunk somewhere in his chest, which was suddenly burdensome.

  “Oh,” he said, face burning scarlet. His head was filled with a flurry of imagery from the pages he had read the night before. He hoped that the Waveseer could not read his thoughts in that moment. Yet, his embarrassment was short-lived. Righting himself, Remy said, “These are simply things to pass the time with. I have no feelings towards my old friend. Do you call somebody a friend who abandoned you, and has not spoken in years?”

  The Waveseer hummed. “If that is what you believe.”

  Remy’s mood had soured. He glanced at the Waveseer’s guide, who had not moved, still awaiting there on his knees with the towel. “Well,” Remy said to the both of them, “I bid you good evening. Thank you for your ears, Waveseer.”

  And he left the hut.