It might be coded

The Song of E'rathal

The journey back to Coralstead was eerily quiet. Acasia’s thoughts churned like the currents, caught between the visions the creatures had shown her and the lingering hum of the Ice Wall. Beside her, Thalina occasionally glanced over, her carefree demeanor cracking just enough to reveal her concern.

“You’ve been quiet,” Thalina said, breaking the silence. “Even for you. Care to fill me in on what happened back there?”

Acasia hesitated, the weight of the experience pressing down on her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the creatures—and the word they’d imprinted in her mind—were part of something much larger. But how could she explain it without sounding insane?

“I... don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I think those creatures were trying to tell me something.”

Thalina raised an eyebrow. “Tell you what? That you need to chill out and enjoy life more? Because, honestly, I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

“Not now, Thalina,” Acasia snapped, the sharpness in her tone surprising them both. She softened immediately. “Sorry. I just... it felt important. Like they were trying to show me something about the Ice Wall.”

Thalina frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, she swam ahead, flipping onto her back with an exaggerated sigh. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now. And I, for one, am starving. Let’s grab some kelp wraps when we get back. My treat.”

Acasia barely heard her. The word E’rathal repeated in her mind like a melody she couldn’t forget. It wasn’t just a name—it was a call, an invocation.

As Coralstead’s glowing lights came into view, the comfort of home felt distant, almost alien. The familiar sight of the bustling cove, with its shimmering coral spires and schools of darting fish, didn’t ease the tension in Acasia’s chest. If anything, it made her feel more out of place.

“Hey, Acasia!” a voice called as they entered the cove. It was Orin, the village’s self-proclaimed historian, perched on a rock near the central square. He waved a fin excitedly, his collection of scrolls and shells scattered around him. “You’re back! Did you find anything interesting near the wall?”

Acasia exchanged a quick glance with Thalina before swimming over. Orin was one of the few people who might take her seriously—if he didn’t get too lost in his own enthusiasm.

“Maybe,” Acasia said carefully. “Have you ever heard the word E’rathal?”

Orin’s face lit up, his fins twitching with excitement. “E’rathal? Of course! It’s an ancient word from the Old Tongue. Rarely used these days, though. Where did you come across it?”

Acasia hesitated. “The Ice Wall. It was part of a symbol... or a pattern. I’m not sure.”

Orin’s excitement turned to curiosity, his gaze sharpening. “Interesting. Very interesting. E’rathal roughly translates to ‘the song that binds.’ It’s mentioned in a few old texts, always in connection with the deep currents and the origins of our people. But it’s mostly myth—stories to entertain hatchlings.”

“What kind of stories?” Acasia pressed, her pulse quickening.

“Well,” Orin began, settling into his storyteller’s tone, “they say E’rathal is the song of the Abyssal Chorus—a force that connects all living things in the ocean. It’s said to be the origin of life itself, but also the key to untold power. Of course, no one really believes that anymore. It’s just a tale to explain why the currents sing.”

Acasia’s mind raced. The creatures, the wall, the pulse—it all felt connected to what Orin was describing. But if E’rathal was just a story, why had she felt it so strongly?

“Do you have any texts about it?” she asked, her voice firmer now.

Orin tilted his head, intrigued by her urgency. “A few, maybe. You’re welcome to look through them, but don’t get your hopes up. The old scrolls are mostly fragments—nothing definitive.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Acasia said, her determination overriding her doubts.

Thalina groaned dramatically. “Oh, great. Now we’re diving into dusty old scrolls instead of eating. You really know how to ruin a good time, Acasia.”

But Acasia barely heard her. She followed Orin toward the library grotto, her mind consumed by the possibilities.

As they entered the quiet, shadowy space filled with shelves of coral and seaweed-bound texts, Acasia felt the hum of the wall again, faint but insistent. It was as if the ocean itself were urging her forward.

Orin pulled a scroll from a shelf and handed it to her. “Here. This one mentions E’rathal briefly. Be careful with it—it’s fragile.”

Acasia unrolled the scroll carefully, her eyes scanning the faded script. The words were difficult to read, but one passage stood out:

E’rathal calls to those who listen. Beneath the Ice Wall, the song stirs the currents and awakens the deep. Beware its power, for it binds as much as it frees.

A chill ran through her. The words seemed to echo her experience at the wall, as if the scroll were speaking directly to her.

“What does it mean?” she whispered.

Orin shrugged. “Who knows? Like I said, it’s probably just a story. But if you’re really curious, you might want to speak with the elders. They know more about the Old Tongue and the myths than I do.”

Acasia nodded, already planning her next steps. She had a feeling this was just the beginning of something far bigger than she’d imagined.

As she rolled up the scroll, the faint hum in her chest grew stronger, almost like a heartbeat. And for the first time, she realized it wasn’t just the Ice Wall or the creatures she was hearing.

It was E’rathal. And it was calling her.