On the moonless nights, when the tide is full and the sky is dark, a hundred thousand stars prick the firmament and reflect in the water below. These are the nights of wonder, where magic is possible and dreams can come true.
The sea… dreams. Remembers.
Waves lap the shore, leaving foam on the sand. When there is enough, it gathers, froths upwards, taking shape. Taking form. A head and body, then arms and legs. The foam spills down, white hair that ripples like water, then a gown as deep a blue as the depths from whence she came.
In the water, she has no name. On land, in the form she has taken, she is Jenna.
She steps further onto the beach, becoming more distinct with each step. Her skin turns from translucent to opaque, the colour of the inside of a conch shell. She looks upwards, eyes on the stars. Magic swirls around her; a gift from the ocean to counter the witch’s curse.
Light glints in the air, falling like snow. Stardust.
It glimmers before her, another form, another name cursed.
“Kiran,” she says, hands outstretched.
He takes them, his smile brighter than the constellations above. “Jenna, my love.”
They fall into each others’ arms. They kiss as if starved, and so they are – of the love that pulses between them, its beat as steady and constant as the waves that lap about their ankles. A love broken by a bitter woman full of hate, but also full of power.
Yet, the ocean knows the story, and has told it to the moon. And when She is darkened by the world, when the stars shine at their brightest, Her magic lets Kiran take form. Stars and sea, working together to reunite the lovers once a month.
They have until dawn, so waste no time.
For the ocean hears many things from the ships that cut through its waters, and Jenna knows them, too. She takes Kiran’s hand and they run across the sand, to the dunes, to the brush beyond and then the long grass, damp with night dew.
The way is long. It is hard for creatures built from seafoam and stardust, no longer used to the land and gravity. Yet they endure, because there is a chance, a tale of another witch. Who might, if so moved by their plight, magic bodies formed of a glamour into living, breathing flesh. Who might break the curse upon them.
The grassland becomes forest and Kiran stumbles in the dark as the canopy blocks the starlight. A breeze whispers, smelling of salt, relaying the tale, and the trees bend their branches back. They shake their leaves and let dew fall. Sustaining both the water woman and her star-borne lover. Jenna touches a trunk and murmurs her gratitude.
Beyond the woods is the town. They skirt this – the water there smells curious and the shadows feel wrong – and head for the hills that the town sits against. Above, the stars move across the sky in their ancient dance. Far behind, the waves roll back into the ocean. The magic gifted to them grows weak, then weaker. If it fails, their forms will shatter.
If it fails, they will die.
This is their last chance to seize fate by the throat and make it do their bidding. When Jenna falls, Kiran helps her up. When he falters, she is his strength to carry on. Love fills them with a power of its own, filling in the emptying spaces left by waning starlight and turning tide. The Moon is only in shadow – Her power abides and She will see them through.
In a valley between the hills, by a trickling brook that pulls Jenna to her full height even if the water lacks salt, is a simple brick house. It has ivy up its wall and moss gathers on its roof. Smoke curls from a chimney. There is a stone wall around a garden of herbs and spices and vegetables. A goat nibbles at the grass. Chickens peck at the path leading from the iron gate to the wooden door.
The witch Evangeline stands on the step, lantern in one hand. She smiles at the lovers and beckons them in. Jenna and Kiran look at each other. Their years-long separation has been at the hands of a witch, and neither is sure that this one can be trusted.
“The wind carried your names to me,” Evangeline says. “As it told you of mine. The water babbles your story and moves my heart to help you.”
“Do you mean to harm us?” Jenna demands. “We have had enough of hate.”
“I do not, which is easily said, but listen to the wind, child. To the stream and the starlight. Hear my truth in the whispers of the elements that give you form.”
Jenna tilts her head. The wind brushes her hair back and curls in her ears. The susurration of the water sounds like her heartbeat used to. The elements speak to her, offering reassurances and hope. She meets Kiran’s eyes and nods.
“She speaks true.”
“Then you will help us?” he asks the witch, his tone hardly daring to believe after all this time. Being of stardust has left him cold of trusting anyone but Jenna.
“Magic is a gift,” Evangeline replies. “One which we ought to honour. Using it to curse is not honourable. If that were the only reason to help, then I would. That she broke a bond is more reason, though.”
She pauses, and looks at them both, her gaze stern. “As you are, your lives are endless. Should I recant the curse, you will be mortal once again. You will age and die. Know this and be sure of your destinies.”
“An immortal life is empty without my heart,” Kiran says, bringing Jenna’s hand to his lips. Love shines from his eyes, brighter than the fullest of moons. “I would live a mortal one with her, then forever without.”
Jenna embraces him tightly. When she pulls away, she looks to the witch and says, “His words are mine. We choose mortality.”
Evangeline nods, smiling. “As I thought.”
She holds out her hands. Jenna takes one and Kiran the other.
“The turn of the tide brings you home. The dark of the moon lights the stars that guide you. You stand on solid ground dressed in the glamour of the stars and the sea. By my power, by my words, by the love you have honoured through the years, be done with these forms and embody your true ones once more.”
Jenna expects to feel the same pain as when she was shattered, but there is only warmth. Like she has found herself at a fireside. Kiran’s hand gains a weight and width it had lacked. His fingers jump and she knows he senses her differently.
There is a soft exclamation and a gasp, though she is unsure which of them utters what. It does not matter as they fall into each others’ arms and feel. Plump lips that are warm. Arms that are strong as they hold on. Skin that shivers at caresses.
Another sound splits the night – a cry of fury and loss and despair. It fades to an echo, repeating and repeating, softening but never fully quietening.
“A curse broken,” Evangeline says, “reverbs back to the one who spoke the words. Magic will have its comeuppance.” She releases their hands. “Worry not about her. She has the Moon to contend with now. Go. Live your lives. But remember!”
Jenna leans against Kiran. He has one arm around her waist. Neither seems capable of letting the other go. Nor, she thinks, should they.
“Remember what?” she asks.
“Remember the sea. Remember the stars. They will watch over you until the sun sets on your lives.”
Jenna nods and then she and Kiran walk away. There is light on the horizon. They climb a hill and then sit in dew-dampened grass to watch the first sunrise that they have seen in decades. They feel the warmth of the sun on their skin and smile at each other.
They will live their days in the light, now, yet never forgetting the ocean or the sky that held them in the darkness.