Yatzir sits alone in the bathtub. Jets pulse against his back. His eyes fix on the ripples in the water, then he grips his stomach and wheezes.

  Vuhtzev shakes his shoulder. “Hey…”

  Yatzir shouts and jumps from the seat.

  Vuhtzev follows him. “What's wrong?”

  Yatzir hugs his arms. “Just… Nothing.”

  Vuhtzev reaches for him.

  Yatzir smacks his hand away. “I said I'm fine!”

  Vuhtzev furrows his brows. “You can talk to me.”

  Yatzir faces away from him and closes his eyes. “I can't.” He picks at his skin. “You wouldn't understand.”

  Vuhtzev moves closer. “I can try.”

  Yatzir huffs and turns. “When I had my metzih, I saw my mother.” He wipes his eyes. “She was… She tried to kill me.”

  Vuhtzev tilts his head. “Aren't metzih supposed to be about the future?”

  Yatzir nods. “Yeah.”

  Vuhtzev lowers into the water. “I thought Imazet was dead.”

  Yatzir's nails sink into the backs of his arms. “That's not all.” He glances at his reflection. “She said it was time for me to emerge from my cocoon. The clock is ticking.”

  Vuhtzev holds his chin. “What do you think it means?”

  Yatzir shuts his eyes. “I think it means that I'm supposed to fight the heat.” Blood spreads under his nails.

  Vuhtzev grabs Yatzir's wrists. “Don't do that!” He dips their hands in the water, then brushes the wounds on the backs of Yatzir's arms.

  Yatzir hangs his head. “In my metzih, the heat consumed everything. I couldn't escape it.” His head shoots up. “What if it kills me?”

  Vuhtzev cups Yatzir's cheeks. “Metzih are not always accurate. Some of them don't come true. How can you be sure the heat will kill you?”

  Yatzir touches Vuhtzev's hands. “I…” He closes his eyes. “I guess I can't be."

  Vuhtzev smiles and rubs his thumbs over Yatzir's cheeks. “You won't face this alone.”

  Yatzir peers up at him.

  Vuhtzev's hands slide to Yatzir's neck. “Everyone here is on your side.” He pulls Yatzir into a hug. “I'll protect you.”

  Yatzir's ear presses to Vuhtzev's chest. He listens to Vuhtzev's heart thud in a steady rhythm. His fingers drift through Vuhtzev's chest hair. “Aren't you scared?”

  Vuhtzev rests his cheek on Yatzir's head and strokes his back. “I’m not sure.”

  Yatzir shudders. “I'm terrified!”

  Vuhtzev's arms tighten around him. “It's okay to feel that way. You can still be brave like you were today.”

  Yatzir jolts. “You think I'm brave?”

  Vuhtzev tilts Yatzir's chin up. “Yes.”

  Yatzir's stomach tingles and his pulse quickens. He squeezes Vuhtzev's chest. “I—"

  Vuhtzev mashes their lips together. His fingers dance along Yatzir's neck, then he pulls away. “I'm glad I did that.” His face turns red.

  Yatzir touches his lips, tracing the warmth Vuhtzev left behind. “I've never…”

  Vuhtzev's cheeks darken. “Me either.” He scratches his head. “I've only watched other people kiss.” His eyes dart to the water. “Was I… How was it?”

  Yatzir pats his face. “Exciting.”

  Vuhtzev smiles, then leads Yatzir from the bathtub, tugging him to bed, and they lay down. Vuhtzev brushes Yatzir's lips. "I like you... More than a friend."

  Yatzir squeezes Vuhtzev's bicep. "You are very handsome." He smirks. "Maybe too handsome for me."

  Vuhtzev snorts and drags his fingers down Yatzir's side. "I thought the same thing about you."

  Yatzir jolts. "Huh?" He shakes his head. "I'm not built like you! I'm scrawny and embarrassing. My nose is too big and my eyes are lopsided!"

  Vuhtzev laughs, then pecks him on the lips. "I didn't say you were perfect." He pecks him again. "I said I thought you were handsome, too."

  Yatzir's face becomes warm. "Thank you."

  Evox stands in the entryway and rings a golden bell. "Bogenach, they're ready for you."

  Yatzir murmurs and plays with Vuhtzev's chest hair.

  Vuhtzev looks back at Evox. "Give us a few."

  Evox bows and saunters into the lounge.

  Yatzir buries his face into Vuhtzev's chest. "I don't want to go."

  Vuhtzev rubs his back. "You have to."

  Yatzir breathes into his chest. "What if I refused?"

  Vuhtzev scoots back. "You can't!"

  Yatzir hugs his stomach. "Why don't I have a choice?"

  Vuhtzev stands and puts on a fresh robe from the rack. "You do, but this isn't about you." He ties the strap. "It's about me, your friends, and everyone else too."

  Yatzir curls into a ball. "It's not fair."

  Vuhtzev marches over and pulls Yatzir out of bed. "You aren't the only one who's lost someone!"

  Yatzir yanks his arm away. "Yet, my mother is all anyone talks about!"

  Vuhtzev sneers at Yatzir. "Because she wasn't selfish!"

  Yatzir flinches. "You think I'm selfish?" He bites the inside of his cheek.

  Vuhtzev sighs and combs his fingers through his hair. "Right now, you are."

  Yatzir hugs his arms. "Maybe I am being selfish, but why does this fall on me?" He pinches his skin. "If I don't make a choice, people suffer. If I do, I suffer."

  Vuhtzev inhales and pats Yatzir's shoulder. "If you aren't willing to suffer a little, can you bear the weight of everyone else's suffering?"

  Yatzir swallows.

  Vuhtzev ruffles Yatzir's hair. "Not all suffering is bad." His fingertips brush Yatzir's cheek. "Maybe the suffering you'll endure is part of leaving the cocoon. Maybe you're too comfortable in it and it's preventing you from becoming who you're meant to be."

  Yatzir's shoulders shake. "What if I already am?" He steps back. "What if the cocoon is this place and the only way out is to go back home?"

  Vuhtzev drops his hand. "Interpret it however you want. All I know is that you'll regret running from this." He walks toward the lounge. "And if you flee, then you're a coward."

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  Yatzir falls onto the bed. Fish swirl above him. He touches his stomach. "I'm not a coward."

  Yatzir grumbles, removes a robe from the rack, and tightens it around his waist. He marches through the lounge, past Vuhtzev, and into the sauna. Seol prances through the steam with a fish in his mouth. Irāvah creeps from a cloud with yellow underwear stretched between her thumbs.

  Yatzir rolls his eyes and goes to the zotzih chamber. Guests lay in shallow pools while Uchimach guide them through the process. He scans for Imartzah, but he's not there.

  Evox dashes to Yatzir's side and huffs, holding his knees. "Bogenach!" He rises. "Imartzah has prepared a private space for you."

  Yatzir nods, then follows him into a dim stairwell. Evox points at the steps. "Careful, they're slick!" They maneuver down the stairs and land in Imartzah's chamber.

  Imartzah sits at a stone table with his flippers crossed and a yellow sack beside him. "Yatzir, have a seat."

  Evox bows and leaves. Yatzir picks the seat furthest from Imartzah. The chair wobbles under his weight.

  Imartzah reaches into the sack and pulls out a tile. "Do you know what this is?"

  Yatzir shakes his head.

  Imartzah places the tile on the table. "This is a game called Sefnunshere." He smiles. "I used to play this with your mother."

  Yatzir scrunches his face. "Sounds complicated."

  Imartzah dumps the sack onto the table. "It is." He spreads the tiles out. "If you play to win."

  Yatzir leans forward to read the tiles. "They're symbols." His eyes drift to the left. "-Ro, -Sir, -Mach." He glances to the right. "-En, -Ak, -Un."

  Imartzah pushes the tiles towards the center. "The goal of this game is to train your mind by studying how you respond to conflict and find resolution. Sefnunshere!"

  Yatzir rests his chin on his fist. "How does that help me with remit?"

  Imartzah waves his flipper. "All remit is sculpted by our language." He picks up a tile. "-Ya means forest." He picks up another. -Tzir means core." He pushes the symbols together. "Yatzir can be read as spirit of the forest or intense wilderness."

  Yatzir taps his nails. "Riveting."

  Imartzah croaks and pushes the tiles aside. "Why don't you choose a few symbols and form a word?"

  Yatzir leans across the table and draws 3 symbols. He pairs them together. "-Ima, -Ar, -Tzah. Imartzah, master of water."

  Imartzah grins and takes 3 tiles. "-Bog, -En, -Ach. Bogenach, leader's second form."

  Yatzir crosses his arms. "What the point of this silly game?" He smacks his lips. "Aren't we supposed to be training?"

  Imartzah gestures to the tiles. "If you do not understand yourself, then you cannot channel tzirem."

  Yatzir growls, then snatches 2 tiles. "Zorak! No patience."

  Imartzah takes 2 tiles. "Zartzet, the template for failure."

  Yatzir snarls at him. "That's not what it means!" He points. "-Zar means decomposition. -Tzet means templet. Zartzet is an incomplete blueprint!"

  Imartzah covers his mouth. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

  Yatzir grabs 2 tiles and pairs them with -Ak. "Vahaktzin, breath without purpose."

  Imartzah strokes his whiskers. "I forgot to mention that once a word is made, you cannot exchange the symbols to form new ones." He holds out his flipper, water crawls up the table, and the tile for -Ak is frozen in ice.

  Yatzir rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

  Imartzah plucks 2 tiles. "Remit, the product of rem." He nods to the frozen tile. "Ice is the product of the rem I cast—an action I cannot take back."

  Yatzir pairs 3 tiles. "-Po, -Och, -Tzad. Pochtzad, chosen identity."

  Imartzah snickers and draws 2 tiles. "Netzin, twin souls." He leans back. "You could have stuck with Poch. It carries the same meaning. Adding -Tzad at the end convolutes the description. Did you adopt this chosen identity or were you adopted into an identity chosen for you?"

  Yatzir looks at the word, then reaches out and takes 2 tiles. "Ravet, broken family." He gulps. "I don't know if they chose this for me or if they knew that I'd be the one making this choice."

  Imartzah chooses 4 tiles. "Shipuhyarnet, children are destined to repeat patterns they cannot see. Netyarpuhshi, cycles hide themselves in children."

  Yatzir sighs and draws 6 tiles. "I'll pair -Sir with Zorak. Impulsiveness. -Ti with Vahtzin. Spite. -Ket and -Ich to make burning cage. -Ba and -Em for parental blessings."

  Imartzah nods and retrieves 8 tiles. "Darech, to live in pain. Deih, double vision. Doin, one open. Dechi, three judges. Dueh, multiple personalities."

  Yatzir picks at the scab on the back of his arm. "How long are we going to play this game? I don't understand what I'm supposed to gain from all these words!" His fist hits the table. "My mind is a mess, right? That's what you want me to realize. I already knew that, so what am I learning?"

  Imartzah leans against the table. "The symbols you chose represent the inner landscape of your mind and the words your created represent how you navigate life." He scans Yatzir's tiles. "Authority makes you frustrated because you lose control and that reminds you of your broken family, which defines how you see yourself."

  Yatzir shudders.

  Imartzah blinks. "You feel trapped in a web of choices that you couldn't make, so you seek independence to regain control."

  Yatzir jumps up and swipes the tiles off the table. "What do you know?" His nostrils flare. "You're just a senile tzengenach with nothing better to do than to mock me!"

  Imartzah bows his head. "Forgive me, Bogenach. I didn't mean to offend you."

  Yatzir punches the table. "You think you understand me, but you don't! No one does! Everyone compares me to my mother and for what?" Tears form in his eyes. "I'm not her! I'll never be her! So stop forcing me into becoming someone I'm not!"

  Imartzah opens the sack and the tiles float into it. 3 remain on the table. He smiles at them. "-Ne, -Ti, -Il. Netil, a path the soul follows with anger. -Net, soul knots. -Il, guide. Netil, twisted guide."

  Yatzir's fists shake, his teeth grind, and tears fall from his chin onto the table.

  Imartzah picks up the tiles and places them into the sack. "Your companion has a hard exterior, which protects him from most predators. On the inside, he is soft and tender." He walks around the table and squeezes Yatzir's shoulder. "You named him Netil because you've carried around all this anger and it's defined the path you walk."

  Yatzir drops into the chair and covers his face. "Does that make me a bad person? Is this my punishment?"

  Imartzah folds his flippers behind his back. "Tzirem is at the core of each tziremach. It may feel like a punishment, but this block inside you is protection—just like your stubbornness. The others compare you to Imazet because they see greatness in you. You have the potential to be one of the most revered tziremach in our history! Not because of where you came from, but because of the things you will do."

  Yatzir sniffles and wipes his eyes. "I can't do anything."

  Imartzah nods. "I agree." He paces. "Yavima grants you too much protection. The elders allow you to skate by without performing remit. Merketz and I think more time away from there will do you good."

  Yatzir jerks. "But my friends! My father!"

  Imartzah waves his flipper. "It would only be for a little while. A few days at most or longer if you choose. I know this decision cannot be made for you, so I want to ask if you'll stay here willingly."

  Yatzir gulps. "And you'll train me?"

  Imartzah nods.

  Yatzir dries his face. "I'll learn to cast?"

  Imartzah strokes his whiskers. "I can't promise anything, but eliciting a metzih is a huge achievement. I wasn't sure it'd work! We thought you'd... Well, we didn't know what would happen."

  Yatzir picks at the skin around his nails. "Will all of our training be like this? Games?"

  Imartzah chuckles and makes his way back to Yatzir. "Only if you're in the mood to play." He smiles. "What I want to do is teach you Sefketan, the ability to control your thoughts, feelings, and environments."

  Yatzir furrows his brows. "Environments?"

  Imartzah nods. "Yes, zotzih is the first step. Metzih is the second. The final step is vahtzin, breath work. Altogether, these create the tools you'll need for Sefketan. You've already completed two of these steps."

  Yatzir touches his forehead. "Are you saying I will be able to move objects with my mind?"

  Imartzah shrugs. "I'm not sure what'll happen, Bogenach. You might never master the metzih. You may not want to complete the vahtzin. Whatever happens—my wish is to prepare you for the final exam."

  Yatzir massages his jaw. "Why? What's so important about me passing it?"

  Merketz walks into the chamber. "If you cannot pass the final exam, then you will not become the next Bognunrach." She leans against the table. "The choice will be left up to the Portzah of the Yarbil. Our next pick will be the tziremach who shows the most promise during the exam."

  Yatzir taps his thigh. "I'd bet on Seol."

  Merketz laughs and shakes her hand. "I can't imagine us selecting a cat as our leader!" She adjusts her robe. "But, if push comes to shove..."

  Yatzir nods. "You could pick Vuhtzev, he has that tome!"

  Merketz purses her lips. "It's a crutch!" Her eyebrow twitches. "One he cannot live without."

  Imartzah pats Yatzir's back. "No decision is being made right now."

  Merketz sighs and crosses her arms. "In any case, you have to decide if you'll stay and if you do, then I'll allow you to choose who remains."

  Yatzir perks up. "You'll let my friends stay?"

  Merketz wags her finger. "Just one!" She stares down at him. "Choose wisely! The one who stays behind will be your shoulder to cry on, your confidant, your biggest supporter."

  Yatzir slouches. "I'd have to ask. None of them might want to stay here."

  Merketz hums and brushes her hair behind her ear. "I can think of someone who'd enjoy Niruchah's offerings."

  Yatzir grins. "I can too."

  Merketz nods. "Your friends are waiting to leave, but I haven't told them anything. I'll let you deliver the news."

  They leave Imartzah's chamber and return to the private lounge. Irāvah, Seol, and Vuhtzev crack jokes on the cushions. Yatzir's hands shake. Merketz nudges him forward.

  Yatzir approaches his friends and bows. "I am going to stay in Niruchah for a while."

  Seol scampers over and clings to his legs. "No! You can't! Who'll read books with me in the Avportzet?"

  Yatzir pets his head. "Merketz is allowing one of you to stay with me."

  Vuhtzev bites his lip.

  Irāvah struts over and hangs around Yatzir's shoulder. "You're picking me, right?" She flicks Seol's nose. "These losers need to study!"

  Seol rubs his nose. "You're the loser!" He pinches her leg. "Miss, I don't care about passing the final!"

  Irāvah kicks him off.

  Yatzir chuckles and separates them. "I know who I want to stay with me, but I wanted you to choose."

  Seol licks his hand. "I'm tired of my zarachit!" He glances to Vuhtzev. "Plus, there's someone who needs my help."

  Vuhtzev smirks and approaches them. "Seol has been helping me practice my remit, but we can't train in this place."

  Yatzir turns to Irāvah. "What do you say?"

  Irāvah punches his shoulder. "Another week of being pampered? Sign me up!"

  Yatzir rubs his arm. "I thought you'd say yes."

  Merketz groans and waves her hand. "Come along, you two! The Yarbil's expecting us."

  Seol hugs Irāvah and Yatzir. "I'm going to miss you!"

  Vuhtzev follows Merketz.

  Yatzir grabs his hand. "Get over here!"

  Vuhtzev smiles and embraces them.

  Imazet...Blue water