Submission (#8001) Approved

Yggdrasil’s roots stretched wide across the waters of Ealei, forming living bridges and suspended walkways that wound like veins through tree cities and wharf towns. Above it all, the sky hung drowsy and gold hazed, dusted with petals drifting slowly from the eldertree’s blooming canopy. They fell in lazy spirals, gathering like stardust on the surface of the Manawell, where the water shimmered with a faint silver blue gleam.

Shimmer stood on the worn edge of a mangrove dock, her gaze drifting over the gently rippling waters. Somewhere beneath them, the elder spirit stirred, a white serpent vast enough to ripple entire fishing boats with the flick of its tail. The local elnin didn’t fear it. Its presence was ancient and playful, and its summer return had always signaled something sacred.

“Muuum! I caught one!” Gloom’s delighted shout broke her reverie. “He’s tiny and kind of lopsided, but he glows!”

She turned just as her son came barreling down the path from the shallows, a bowl clutched precariously in his little paws. The water inside shimmered with refracted light, and within it swam a single small fish, barely bigger than a thumb, trailing a ribbon of luminous aqua light in its wake.

Shimmer crouched and met him at the dock, steadying the bowl before he spilled it. “Nice catch,” she said warmly, peering in. The fish twitched, fins fluttering like silk. “He’s beautiful.”

Glimmer, her ever watchful pomu, peeked out from Shimmer’s shadow. The white of her face and toes was smudged faintly with green from grass and petals, and she tilted her head as she inspected the fish with curiosity. She didn’t speak, pomus never did, but her feathered stumpy tail wagged slowly, approving.

“I’m gonna name him Glowbean,” Gloom announced, tail flicking excitedly. “He’s gonna go all the way to the boundless sea and make fish friends there. Like, lots.”

Shimmer chuckled and ran a paw gently through his tufted fur. “That’s a very long journey. Should we help him along?”

Gloom nodded earnestly, ears perked.

Together, they settled onto the dock with their supplies. Locals had revived an old tradition this season: crafting small boats and bubble vessels to carry the luminous fish to the open sea. The fish weren’t strong swimmers yet, not in deep waters like the boundless. So, the elnin helped, with paper, care, and a little bit of heart.

Shimmer unfolded sheets of pressed bark parchment, soft and sturdy, harvested from the flowering trees that grew along the shallows. Gloom began folding eagerly beside her, tongue poking out in concentration. Glimmer padded over and helpfully nudged petal clippings toward them, pushing gold and pink bits into tidy piles.

Around them, other elnin moved between the roots, carrying bowls, lanterns, or floating bubbles carefully tethered with string. The air smelled of fresh water and flower sap, tinged with the salt kissed wind that drifted in from the open coast.

“Why do the fish have to go to the boundless?” Gloom asked after a while, glancing up as he pressed the final fold of his paper boat. “Why not just stay here?”

Shimmer paused, setting a petal along the prow of their little vessel. “Because the boundless needs them,” she said softly. “There’s something going on out there. The seas are quieter lately. Fewer fish. Fewer songs. The spirit’s helping guide them out into the world again, so they can fill it with life.”

Gloom blinked, then looked down at Glowbean, still swimming loops inside his bowl. “...He’s really brave.”

“He is.”

They placed Glowbean into the folded paper boat together, careful and slow. The fish settled into the shallow vessel,  it blinked one round eye at them, then gave a flick of its tail. The entire boat pulsed with blue light.

Glimmer stepped forward and gently nuzzled the edge of the boat, inspecting the construction. It floated stable. Good.

“Ready?” Shimmer asked.

Gloom hesitated. His paws curled over the dock’s edge, and his ears drooped a little.

“I’ll miss him,” he whispered. “Even if I only just met him.”

Shimmer leaned in and pulled him close. “That’s okay,” she murmured. “Some friendships are like that. Quick and bright. They still matter.”

Gloom pressed his face into her side for a moment. Then he nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Together, they nudged the little glowing boat into the water. It bobbed once, twice, then caught the breeze and began its gentle drift. The soft glow of the fish lit the parchment from within, turning it into a lantern as it floated toward the mouth of the bay.

Then the water shifted.

A great white coil arced below the surface, silent, massive. The elder spirit.

Shimmer and Gloom both gasped. Glimmer crouched low at the dock’s edge, alert but calm.

The serpent’s form curled in a lazy loop beneath Glowbean’s boat, creating a current that sent it smoothly out to sea. The spirit didn’t break the surface, but its presence could be felt in the air like a hum beneath the skin.

“He’s guiding him,” Gloom whispered, wide eyed. “Just like us.”

Shimmer nodded. “Exactly.”

They stayed there for a long while, watching as more glowing fish drifted past in boats, lanterns, or floating bubbles. Some popped prematurely, sending fish darting into the shallows before reorienting and swimming bravely forward. Others flickered with brighter and brighter light as they neared the open sea.

A festival, but also a farewell.

Shimmer felt something deep and bittersweet settle in her chest, an understanding of the balance between holding on and letting go. Of giving help, then stepping aside.

“I think Glowbean’s gonna be okay,” Gloom said quietly, placing one petal onto the water in his own little goodbye.

“I think so too.”