The Call

When early spring arrived, Tide Bay finally welcomed the long-awaited warm breeze. The icy chill of winter was slowly receding, and the thick mist that hovered over the sea no longer clung as heavily as before. Life returned to the docks once more; children chased seabirds along the shore, and the fishermen felt a renewed flicker of hope for the upcoming fishing season. Yet Seren knew that many things were no longer as they used to be. Through this winter, she felt as though she had grown up all at once. Her mother relied on her more and more. The woodcarving of the seabird that old Eden had given her still rested by the window. Whenever sunlight spilled into the room, the bird's carved wings glistened with a warm, soft sheen. Many days had passed since that dream. The stone archway, the road extending forward, and the moment she placed the woodcarving down remained vividly etched in her memory. She did not know what it truly signified. Yet in her heart, she felt a quiet certainty that she was drawing closer to something—something that had not yet come to pass, but had already begun to alter her fate. A few days later, a vessel arriving from distant lands dropped anchor in Tide Bay. It was no ordinary local fishing boat. Its hull was broader and grander, and its sails bore unfamiliar emblems. Word spread quickly throughout the entire village. A crowd gathered at the docks to watch. The crew brought with them strange goods from foreign shores, alongside countless tales of the world beyond.

Some spoke of vast, majestic rivers. Others spoke of endless, rolling hills. And some told of distant cities where the lamps burned brightly through the night. Seren had only intended to pass by. Yet when those tales reached her ears, her feet froze in place. She stood at the edge of the crowd, listening in silence. For the first time, she realized she was not listening out of idle curiosity, but out of a deep, earnest desire to know. What did those distant places look like? What kind of lives did those people lead? And where did those endless roads ultimately lead? That evening, she sat alone on the rocks by the sea. The wind blew in from far across the waters. Seabirds swept low across the waves. She suddenly realized that she was no longer merely gazing into the distance; she was beginning to ponder what lay beyond the horizon. The change felt strange, but it did not frighten her. On her way back, she crossed paths with old Eden. The old man was carrying several logs back to his hut.

"Watching the sea?"

"Yes."

"You've been watching it quite often lately." Seren offered a faint smile.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Of course."

Old Eden set the logs down and stretched his aching shoulders.

"Before the wind rises, the seabirds always know first."

Having spoken, he continued on his way, as though he had merely uttered a casual, ordinary remark. Yet Seren stood there, watching his departing figure for a long time.

Night fell, and the dream came upon her once more. She stood upon that familiar path. The stone archway was now left behind her. The road ahead stretched wider and farther than ever before. The wind swept past continuously from the far horizon. She pressed onward. She did not know how long she had walked. Gradually, the wind began to change. Faint sounds seemed to intertwine within the breeze—soft, distant, as though drifting from beyond countless mountain ranges. She could not discern the words, nor recognize the voice. Yet of one thing she was entirely certain: the sound was a call. Not a command, nor a gentle urge, but a true calling. She halted her steps.

The wind drifted past her shoulders. The distant path continued to stretch into the unseen mist. The voice echoed once more, still faint, still far away. Yet it stirred a feeling within her heart she had never known before—a feeling that something was waiting at the end of that road, and that one day, she would inevitably reach it.

The dream slowly faded. When she awoke, the faint glow of dawn had already touched the windowpane. Seren sat at the edge of her bed, gazing at the sea outside. She thought of the ship from afar, of the tales told at the dock, of the wind in her dream, and of that soft, distant calling. And then, a thought clearer than any she had ever known surfaced in her mind: Perhaps, one day, she would truly leave Tide Bay. When the thought arose, she did not immediately dismiss it as she used to. She simply sat there in silence, letting the morning light illuminate the room bit by bit. For the first time, she felt no fear. For the first time, she was willing to embrace the possibility. A gentle breeze drifted through the window, brushing softly past the wooden seabird on the sill. The woodcarving stood silently, as though gazing off into the far distance. And Seren looked out in the same direction.

Beyond the ocean horizon, the morning sun was rising. A new season had begun.

the tide beat softly against the shore. The road was quiet until her mother suddenly broke the silence.

"You were always a strange child." Seren blinked in surprise.

"Strange?" Her mother chuckled warmly.

"Other children loved chasing seabirds along the beach, but you would stand there, staring into nothingness—sometimes for half a day at a time."

Seren could not help but smile; she remembered those days well. Her mother continued,

"One winter, when you were only seven, I woke in the dead of night to find you gone. It scared me half to death. Then I found you sitting outside in the snow, gazing at the moon. When I asked why you weren't sleeping, you told me you felt the moon was waiting for something."

They both laughed, Seren finding her childhood thoughts foolish now. Yet as their laughter faded, her mother grew quiet.

"And those dreams," she said softly.

"The ones you've had since you were small. Sometimes you'd wake up and remain lost in thought for days; other times you'd be inexplicably joyful, or wander off alone just to watch the sea."

The wind swept across the coastline as they walked side by side. Her mother gazed out toward the distant horizon, and only after a long silence did she speak again.

"I've always felt you were different from the rest." Seren remained silent.

"Not better," her mother added,

"nor worse. Just... as if you were waiting for something."

Seren’s heart trembled softly. The words were so precise, striking a chord of truth she could neither deny nor articulate. All these years, she had indeed been waiting, even if she did not know for what. Her mother fell silent again, lost in thought, before letting out a soft sigh.

"There is something I have never told you."

"What is it?"

"I do not know why," her mother said with a faint smile,

"but ever since you were very small, a feeling has lingered in my heart... that one day, you would leave this place."

She stopped in her tracks, her long hair fluttering in the sea breeze.

"Not because Tide Bay is lacking, nor because the people here are unkind, nor because of me."

Her mother looked toward the horizon, her voice gentle yet unmistakably clear.

"It is simply because..."

She turned to look her daughter in the eyes.

"...you do not belong here."

The air fell dead silent, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves. Seren stared at her mother in stunned silence. Long moments passed before she whispered,

"Why?"

Her mother smiled—an expression of tenderness mingled with quiet sorrow.

"I do not know. I truly don't. But I have felt it for as long as I can remember. Since you were little, I knew that one day you would journey to places I have never seen, meet people I will never know, and walk a path that is entirely your own."

With that, her mother said no more. They walked home in silence, yet those words echoed endlessly in Seren’s mind: You do not belong here.

Night fell, and Tide Bay settled into silence. Seren sat by the window, where the carved wooden bird stood quietly on the table. She looked out at the dark sea, her mother's words reverberating in her thoughts, until sleep claimed her at last. The dream returned. She stood upon the familiar path once more, the stone archway now far behind her. The road ahead stretched into the unknown distance, bathed in a warm, gentle breeze. She walked onward, not knowing how far her steps carried her, until that subtle sound returned within the wind. This time, she stopped and listened with all her attention. The voice grew clearer, drawing nearer, until at last she heard it distinctly—a single word:

"Come."

It was not loud, nor was it a command, an explanation, or a promise. It was merely a gentle calling.

"Come."

The wind swept over the grass, and the distant road continued into the unseen horizon. Standing there, Seren felt tears warm her eyes, realizing for the first time that she had not been waiting alone. All this time, something beyond the mist had been waiting for her as well. The dream slowly dissolved. When she opened her eyes, the first pale threads of dawn were touching the sky. She sat at the edge of her bed, motionless for a long time. Her mother’s words, the voice in her dream, and the distant wind seemed to gather into a single truth. Finally, she admitted it to herself: that day was no longer far away. She would leave Tide Bay—not out of weariness, nor to escape, but in answer to the call. Outside the window, the sun rose slowly, ushering in a new day.