When they reached the end of the dock, Zoe crouched above the water. She reached down, cupping saltwater in her hands, letting it drip between her fingers. Without looking at them, she said, “My grandmother understood the ocean. It talked to her in different ways. Almost like Chauncey and Frank. But it wasn’t just the ocean. It was all life that called this land home.” She turned her right hand, and a single bead of ocean hung from the tip of her pointer finger. It stretched and stretched until it fell, plinking back into the sea, little circles spreading. She closed her hand into a fist. “I am her granddaughter. And I will be the queen she thought I could be.” Zoe stood slowly. In the distance, the island. She stared at it for a long moment before turning to face them. “Chauncey, I need your help. Tell the fish, the urchins, the sharks, everything that will hear you. Let them know a seismic shift is coming. The reefs will move, but they will not be harmed. They have my word.”
“You can count on me!” Chauncey said, oozing forward to the end of the dock. Bending over the edge, he sucked in a deep breath. Then: “FRAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNK! YOU THERE, BUD? FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNK! WE NEED YOU!”
“While Chauncey is seeing to—”
“FRAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNK!”
“—the aquatic life, Merle, a word.”
Merle wiped his hands on the front of his coveralls, cleared his throat, and then stepped forward, snapping to attention. “Yes, your majesty.”
Zoe snorted. “None of that. I will be Zoe to you, and I won’t hear otherwise.”
Merle’s eyes bulged. “Uh. I can do that.”
“Good,” she said before nodding at the ferry. “How would you feel about being hired on in a more permanent role?”
Merle frowned. “I thought the whole point of this mess was you were going to make it so the island wasn’t … you know. An island.”
“I am, yes. And if I have my way, we will become rather busy in the immediate future. As such, I would like to offer you the position as the official ferryman of Marsyas. Be it by ferry or some other means, you would be the one to bring anyone who seeks shelter to us.”
Merle chewed over this for a moment. Then he spat over the side of the dock. “Little ones?”
“I expect so,” Zoe said. “And some big ones too. And silly me, I forgot to mention: you will be paid, and paid handsomely.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Merle grinned. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”
“There you are, Frank,” Chauncey said. And sure enough, Frank leapt from the water, the sunlight catching his scales. “Thanks for coming so quickly. I have a mission for you. The queen has returned, and she’s gonna do some crazy magic. Tell your school to let everyone in the sea between here and the island know. She’s gonna make things how they used to be.”
“We are,” Zoe said as Frank leapt from the water once more before disappearing into the depths. “Because I can’t do this alone.”
“What do you mean?” Talia asked as Chauncey joined them once more, chest puffed out in pride.
“Magic,” Zoe said, “comes from within. It’s not just about our gifts.” She glanced at David and Phee. “It’s about intent. What we want from it, what we plan to do with it in the future. My grandmother always said that the earth, the sea, all of it listens to everything we do. It knows those who mean it harm, those who would use it to cause pain and suffering. If we do this, we will be its protectors.” She smiled at the children. “You will be its queens and kings, and those who come from somewhere beyond the sea will look to you for guidance, for hope. It is a heavy burden to bear, but one I know you are strong enough to carry, especially since you won’t be doing it alone.”
“I get to be a knight and a queen?” Lucy exclaimed. “It’s not even my birt!”
“How do we do it?” Sal asked.
“You’re sure?” Zoe asked. “Because I need you to be—”
“You heard our son,” Linus said. “We’re ready. Isn’t that right?”
“Ready!” the children said as one.
“Arthur?” Zoe asked.
Mom, he thought. If only you could see me now. I’m not alone.
Arthur Parnassus said, “My queen?”
Zoe sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I told you not to call me that.”
“You did,” he agreed. “Fortunately, I decided not to listen.”
Near sunset on a warm summer evening, the sea calm and aflame in streaks of orange and red. At the end of the dock, a large crowd of people, all standing silently, watching, waiting.
On the dock itself, a family standing in the shape of a V, not unlike a flock of birds. At the point of the V, a queen, tall and proud, her dress billowing around her ankles, her wings shimmering. She held hands with Lucy, who held hands with Talia, who held hands with David, who held hands with Linus. On Zoe’s other side: Phee, then Chauncey, Sal and Theodore, and Arthur, Sal’s hand in his, Theodore’s tail resting on his shoulder.
Looking out at the island and the sea, Zoe said, “It’ll be strong. The pull. Don’t fight it. Think of it like standing in the sand and surf. As the waves crash over your feet, you can feel the strength of it, tugging at you even as you sink into it. It’s the same, really. Let it wash over you, let it greet you, let it know you for who you truly are, and it will see that our intentions are pure. I’ll handle the rest. Whatever you do, don’t let go of each other.”
The moment the sun touched the horizon, it began. Zoe’s eyes filled with a bright white glow, and her wings started to buzz. An ocean wind blew around them—the sting of salt negligible—ruffling the clothes of those who were not avowed nudists. Linus gasped as Zoe lifted from the dock, wind swirling beneath her feet. As she rose higher and higher, Arthur felt it, the pull she’d told them about. It started in his chest, the phoenix lifting its head and calling, calling, its cry so loud, Arthur thought it could be heard miles away. It moved from his chest to his arms, his shoulders, his head, insistent, poking, questioning.
He let it in.
Lucy laughed loudly when he rose from the dock, feet kicking into nothing. Phee did not flap her wings as she, too, was lifted. Then Talia and Chauncey. David and Sal and Theodore, all the children floating three feet above the dock.
Arthur looked over at Linus, who appeared a little green. “I’m not quite sure I’m up to floating,” he said. “Some of us like our feet firmly planted on the— Oh dear!” He shot up three feet, hair moving slowly around his head as if he were underwater. He started to turn horizontal, and Theodore’s tail shot out, wrapping carefully around his neck, pulling him upright once more. “There,” Linus said in a quivering voice. “Nothing to it. I’ll just … float here. Perfectly normal.”
Arthur tilted his head back and laughed and laughed as his feet lifted. Unbidden, fire bloomed along his arms. It did not burn as its tendrils spread along Sal and Theodore to Chauncey, where it wrapped around his waist (chest?) like a hula-hoop. Chauncey screamed in delight and wiggled his entire body, the fire dancing around him before it moved on to Zoe. Flames snapped and crackled across her body, the red-orange mixing in with the shifting colors of her dress. It moved on to Lucy and Talia and David, all of whom cackled at the tickling warmth.
And last, it came to Linus. The fire rose above him, taking the outline of a bird. Flames crackling, the phoenix lowered its head to Linus, its beak pressed against his nose.
Linus breathed in and Linus breathed out, and in it, Arthur felt him: scared, worried, but even more, a seemingly endless reservoir of hope and bravery. In it, for a brief moment, Arthur saw what Linus did when he gazed upon the phoenix: love, curiosity, and a staggering amount of pride.
He was the phoenix, and the phoenix was him. It lifted its head once more, and as it took shape—fire giving way to feather—it spread its wings above them, its cry echoing across the sea.
Distantly, he heard Zoe shout, “Now!”
