The Lament of Selisara
In the heart of the moonlit ocean, there lived a water deity named Selisara. She was the spirit of the tides, the keeper of the deep, her form woven from the shimmer of dawn-kissed waves and the glow of bioluminescent dreams. Her hair cascaded like waterfalls, flowing endlessly in hues of cerulean and pearl, and her eyes held the sorrow of the sea—vast, endless, and longing.
Selisara was once beloved by both land and sea, a guardian of sailors, a muse for poets who gazed upon the tides. But mortals, ever fickle, had begun to forget her name. They no longer left offerings upon the shore, no longer sang to the waves in gratitude. And so, the waters grew restless, storms more frequent—her sorrow spilling into the currents, unseen but felt.
One night, beneath the full moon’s gentle gaze, a lone musician stood upon the cliffs, his melody drifting across the waters. His song was unlike any she had heard in centuries—filled with yearning, as if he, too, carried a sorrow he could not name.
Drawn by the melody, Selisara rose from the waves, her luminous form gliding across the sea’s surface like mist. The musician gasped at her beauty, his heart pounding as he beheld the goddess of the tides herself.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“I am the forgotten,” she replied, her voice the hush of the waves. “The song in the waters, the sorrow in the storm. You sing, yet do not know my name.”
The man, awed and ashamed, bowed his head. “Then let me remember for all who have forgotten.” And so, he sang again, this time a song of Selisara, the moonlit guardian of the tides.
The sea calmed. The winds softened. And for the first time in centuries, Selisara smiled.
Her name would be whispered once more, carried by the waves, etched in the hearts of those who listened.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQmvDH9a0a0
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