Marisol took one step off the fairy shrimp and nearly toppled over instantly.

  The open sea was, indeed, the very definition of a ‘storm’. The waves were as violent as ever, the cracks of thunder as fierce as ever, but if she didn’t move , she’d never touch stable ground ever again.

  She hurtled forward with a leap before she could get cold feet, and a massive wave swallowed the shrimp behind her the moment she did, dragging it down into the abyss. That would be her if she ever slowed down and refused to ride a wave out to its very end.

  The speed was unreal. She tasted salt on her lips, felt the icy sting of rain on her face. The roar of the winds, the crack of thunder, and the constant, relentless pounding of the sea; it was a natural, world. She felt tiny and vulnerable skating across, her glaives slicing through the froth. Her breaths came in short gasps as she fought to keep her balance, muscles already burning with effort ten seconds in—how long would she have to do this for again?

  the Archive said, its voice ringing even harder than the storm in her ears.

  Ten minutes. of this. Heart pounding, teetering on the tip of her glaives, arms swishing back and forth for balance. The taste of fear was sharp and metallic on her tongue, but… when the next massive wave came and she had to skate to the side of it, she gritted her teeth and forced out a brilliant, toothy grin.

  Nobody would see it, but despite the risk, she launched off the crest of the wave and twirled through the air with her legs crossed—before landing wobbly on the next wave, spreading her arms out as she unfurled her fingers one by one.

  Not perfect.

  She had to try again—

  the Archive snapped.

  she thought, clenching her throat as she approached the next massive wave.

  Just before her next attempt to skate up the wave, the shadow of a Sand-Dancer shimmered into existence fifteen meters in front of her. The lady’s long cloak fluttered behind her like a pair of broken wings.

  The shadow didn’t so much as turn around to glance her way, not even once. When the shadow launched off the wave and spun, she did the same a few seconds later—doing her best to mimic the amount of turns, the amount of speed, and the amount of sure-footedness in the landing. She succeeded a little, but her landing was still wobbly and her glaives were cutting through the froth unevenly. She could do than that.

  the Archive muttered, so quiet she almost believed its comment was unintentional… perhaps it was.

  She didn’t answer immediately, but she chuckle.

  She reeled when a ball of water splashed onto her face and she practically skated through the tiny wave, approaching the base of a third massive wave.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The minutes that followed came as a blur. Lightning streaked the sky, painting it in ephemeral flashes of blue and purple. Cold rain changed directions as frequently as the fickle winds. The mountains of waves crashing at her seemed endless, but she followed in the shadow’s footsteps. She remembered with fondness as she recalled the first time she saw a Sand-Dancer dance. She’d watched in awe from that little bed next to the window—and oh, the in her eyes as she watched her mama outrun a sandstorm.

  She remembered that day down to the very grains of sand her mama kicked up.

  She was a swirl of motion and sensation as she hurtled past wave after wave, soaring over froths of fury beneath her gleaming glaives. Draining stamina be damned, her breaths coming in ragged gasps be damned—her fingertips brushed across the surface of the sea as she saw a glimmer of sunlight past what looked like the edge of the storm.

  There was just one last wave standing in her way, and it was gigantic: twenty meters tall, moving so fast it was already about to curl over itself. It dwarfed any hill or building she’d ever seen in her little desert town.

  was the outside world, and her mama’s shadow didn’t hesitate to skate up the side of the final wave, determined to outrun it before it could collapse on her.

  she thought, gritting her teeth, her eyes glowing with thrill alongside a grin that grew even wider.

  She turned, raising one glaive from the surface. She bent her knee, coiled her waist, and tensed every muscle in her body. She felt the wind catch beneath her cloak, giving her speed. With a powerful push— before the massive wave could collapse on her, or crush her under the sea’s might—she launched.

  Arms crossed over her torso.

  She defied gravity.

  For a few seconds, she was suspended in mid-air—then, with a twist and a snap, she spun a graceful pirouette high above the seas. She past the edge of the storm, her glaives a glittering flash of sunlight.

  She was out.

  For a few more seconds, she basked in the sensation of flying a dozen meters through the air. She screamed in joy, completely blinded by the life giving sun. Despite trying to regain her vision, the thought… made her giggle. It made her . The wind was still on her face, the rain and sea spray clung to her skin, all of it—the exhilaration of having outrun a living storm made her tear up. She landed gracefully on relatively flat waves like a snowflake settling on ice.

  Now, her mama’s shadow was gone, and she could clearly see the outline of an island a good few kilometers out in the distance.

  she thought, smiling softly as she resumed her skating pace forward.

  Then she glanced down at the little water skater on her shoulder, shooting it a small, tired, teasing smile.

  [Objective #2 Completed: Skate out of the storm and head towards the unidentified landmass]

  [Reward: Survival]

  the Archive said, sounding just the slightest bit amused as it turned to look out at the open sea.

  She groaned, rolling her eyes in jest.

  Water Bug Facts #6: While a lot of insects have hydrophobic wings that protect them from getting wet and heavy, most insects do not fly during heavy rainstorms. Some hide in eaves and under trees, while other insects have built-in barometers that detect pressure change in the atmosphere, so they can essentially ‘predict’ when a storm is about to hit and fly away before it even arrives. Water striders, however, are what entomologists call ‘absolute chads’, because their whole bodies are covered with so many hydrophobic spines that they can usually come out of a rainstorm completely unharmed!

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