Percy’s Tale – The Sea of Glass – 056

Claire’s gardens in the sky are a fine beginning, yet my mind drifts elsewhere — downward, to where the sea lies waiting.

Imagine, Molly, a time when the oceans have grown so clear that one can see from the surface to the very bed, as though the water were spun from crystal. Ships no longer cut through waves; instead, they hover just above the surface, skimming upon threads of light that bind the vessel to the horizon.

In this future, the sea itself has become a great mirror, reflecting not just the sky, but the hidden dreams of those who gaze into it. A traveler leaning over the rail might see not his own face, but the vision of a place he longs to be — and by morning, the ship will have drifted there, guided by the will of the dream alone.

The creatures of this ocean are unlike those we know: long ribbons of silver that weave into patterns beneath the waves, colossal shells that open like theatres to display living performances of light. Whales hum in harmonies that cause the waters to glow, and fish trail comet-like tails in the darkness.

What, Polidori, you doubt such marvels? Yet you forget — the wonders of the sea are already stranger than the tales of poets. In this age to come, humankind has learned not to harvest, but to court the ocean, as a suitor courts a beloved. No nets, no harpoons — only offerings of song and light, which the sea returns in gifts of safe passage and rare beauty.

And you, Molly — your voice is the navigator. You speak into the wind, and the vessels listen. You tell them where peace lies, where hope lingers, and they follow. In this world, there is no map, only the stories that guide the way.

That is my candle’s worth. Now, I believe Polidori stirs — shall we see what he brings?

—Percy