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# Waverider Expedition - Sea Elves

Ocean encounter

The Waverider drifted on a still sea, its sails hanging loose, the air so quiet that even the ropes seemed to hold their breath. Far off, something shimmered, sails, but not cloth. They caught the sun like leaves dipped in gold and green.

“Captain,” Severin called, shading his eyes. “We’ve got company.”

Solonex joined him at the rail. “Not imperial, by the look. Their rigging’s alive.”

Phaedros squinted, smiling faintly. “Sea elves. The Tuarela. Haven’t seen their kind since the Inner Reefs.”

The ships came closer, three of them, sleek and curved, hulls grown from pale living wood, their sails whispering softly as if breathing. Music drifted over the water, faint but clear, wordless and beautiful. The sound seemed to make the air lighter.

A voice rose from the nearest ship, melodic, carrying easily. “Waverider! You are far from shore. Are you lost?”

Solonex cupped his hands to call back. “No, only curious.”

Laughter answered him, bright as sunlight on the waves.

They met in the still water, ships lashed side by side with lines of braided kelp. The deck of the Sylirith Tidebloom felt alive beneath their boots, pulsing faintly with warmth. Elves with skin like pale bronze and hair streaked in colors of coral moved gracefully among them, barefoot, each with silver cords and shells woven into their clothes.

Their Navaron, a tall woman with sea-green eyes and voice like running water, bowed to Solonex. “I am Elirah of Tidebloom. Welcome to our float.”

Solonex returned the bow. “Solonex of the Waverider. We mean no intrusion.”

“There are no intrusions on open water,” she said. “Only meetings meant to happen.”

They shared food, salted fish, fruit soaked in rum, and seaweed bread that tasted faintly of spice and brine. One of the sea elves, a young man with hair like wet sand, plucked a stringed shell and began to sing. The tune was unlike any the crew had heard, shifting like waves on the tide. Soon others joined, their voices blending into a deep harmony that made the air hum.

Phaedros closed his eyes, listening. “They’re telling their history,” he murmured. “Every note is a voyage.”

Severin leaned against the rail, studying the sails that rustled softly even in the calm air. “Their ships breathe,” he said. “Like beasts of the sea.”

“They’re alive,” said one of the elves near him, smiling. “Born of Anirel, the World Tree. We grow them and guide them, not build them.”

“Do they... die?” Severin asked.

The elf’s smile softened. “Eventually.”

That silenced him for a while.

When night fell, lanterns were lit, not with flame but with captured light, glowing softly in jars of clear water. The sea elves danced between the decks, moving like wind over water. Some of the Waverider’s crew joined them. Even Solonex smiled, though he rarely did.

Later, when most had gone to rest, Severin and Phaedros sat at the edge of the deck, watching the two ships drift together in gentle rhythm.

“Strange folk,” Severin said softly. “Like they’ve found peace and just... refused to let it go.”

Phaedros nodded. “They live in motion. Never stop, never own, never fight unless they must. Maybe that’s peace.”

“Or maybe it’s just another kind of prison,” Severin said. “Always moving so they don’t have to remember what they’ve lost.”

Phaedros smiled faintly. “You think too much, my friend.”

“Someone has to.”

By dawn, the Tuarela were gone. No sound, no sail, only the faint scent of salt and song on the wind.

Ulfar looked out over the sea. “They move fast for ships that look grown out of trees.”

Solonex nodded. “They’ve been on this ocean longer than we’ve been on land. It’s their home.”

Severin leaned on the rail, watching the horizon. “A home that never stays still,” he said quietly. “I wonder if that’s freedom... or fear of standing still long enough to see what follows.”

No one answered. The Waverider turned east, her sails catching a new wind, and behind them the ocean lay calm and bright, as if nothing had ever disturbed its surface.

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