Celeste stood in the sand. No matter how hard she squinted, she only saw one star above her head. Its corona blazing out in a chariot wheel of flame, the Sun sat upon its throne of clouds, unrivalled, unopposed. The pastel blue depths of the warm summer sky kept no secrets. There was nothing lurking in the depths of the heavens that dared challenge the Sun.

Celeste felt foam lap at her ankles. Wet sand pressed inward with her weight bearing down, sinking her just a little. Waves washed in and out, in and out, in and out. A new tide cresting just as the last receded. *How lovely*, Celeste thought. *Waves are never lonely.*

A shrieking child snapped her to her senses. Whirling, heart racing, just in time to see brother and sister let loose with water guns. Cheap plastic triggers grated against the confines of their construction, all too desperate to keep up with the speed they were being pulled at. Beach toys weren't meant for combat this rigorous. She couldn't remember their names. Celeste watched them brandish their neon-painted implements of aquatic violence. They were getting so tall, both of them. Celeste wanted to believe they were smiling.

Weren't they smiling? Celeste narrowed her eyes. They were. They were laughing.

No. They weren't smiling or laughing or anything else. Celeste had looked too close and swept away the mirage.

Their arms flailed, gouts of water struck center mass, raucous laughter danced atop the crashing of the waves. But Celeste couldn't see their faces. They were blurred out, features swarmed over by a writhing cloud. It crackled at its edges, a scrambled aura of unravelling threads and jagged web. Celeste ran to them without a word.

She reached them and dropped to her knees, grasping for purchase, pulling her little sister, her little brother, so close.

"It's okay. I'm here."

They wormed out from Celeste's embrace and screamed. The broken-glass edge of the yell cut itself to silence and made way for the crystal-clear chime of a bell. The waves ceased their dance, white foam crests suspended in time.

Celeste strained to move. When her eyes darted down, she saw the ocean snaking its way up her legs, her stomach, her arms, her neck. Coiling, winding around her, locking her joints and muscles even as the brine-soaked ocean chilled down to her bones.

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The twins opened their mouths to speak, but only the sound of the bell came out.

The Sun watched its subjects from its imperial throne.

They pressed their water guns against Celeste's temple.

A shot rang out. Celeste felt her brain shatter. She felt every synapse and nerve ending rip themselves asunder. She felt superheated metal pierce bone. She felt every crack, every shatter, every fracture, every burn.

Celeste jolted awake, breathed in, and felt water fill her lungs.

-

It was seawater. Stinging brine rushed into her throat. Celeste grasped for her neck and felt a shock course through her wrists as they snapped against manacles. Deep black metal encased her hands. Her fingers scratched at their prison as she struggled to lift them, desperately thrashing, only to hit the edge of her leash every time. She forced her eyes open, subjecting herself to a stinging flood of salt. She was chained to the bottom of a cylindrical glass canister filled to the brim with seawater. Blurred shapes hurried back and forth across her field of vision. Amorphous white silhouettes mashing at keyboards, flicking at switches, yelling in a muffled language made imperceptible by a wall of water. She opened her mouth and screamed.

Then, the bell rang out.

The walls of her glassy prison dissolved all at once, a deluge of seawater throwing her to the ground. Sterile steel broke her fall while the water seeped along precisely inclined floors, guided into industrial drains that would take Celeste four steps to cross. She clawed at her eyes, her throat. She felt like salt broke between every molecule in her skin, as if it had subsumed part of her being and cast it out to the ocean. A reparation for the fraction of life it imparted her. It was the only help she was going to get.

Coughing and sputtering, she was heaped on the floor like seaweed abandoned on the shore. People swarmed around, constant blurs of motion, never ceasing. They kept shouting. It was all too loud. Too much. She slammed her hands over her ears, wrists screaming in defiance against her cuffs. Celeste was screaming, too, the sound welling up from the base of her chest and slashing serrated pain all the way to her lips.

"Someone shut that one up," someone barked, their voice muffled and distant.

Rough hands gripped her shoulders, pushing her to her feet. Too fast, too violent. She wretched saltwater onto the floor. More work for the drains. Someone waved their hand and spurred the rest of the room to action. The whole room buzzed like a roiling hive. Celeste felt something sharp pierce her shoulder. The gentle slosh of waves and water drowned everything out as Celeste's vision faded to black.