Ciaran dropped both bowls and went careening down the grass. He leapt off the edge of the short cliff and hit the sand, rolled, staggered to his feet.
“Look out!” he yelled.
And then he slowed.
The figure was Brenna, and she had a massive bowl set out before her. Her head was tipped back and her arms raised high, and she was chanting something above the sound of the waves.
Ciaran could only stare as the wave crashed down on her. When it retreated, she was still standing there, drenched, arms outstretched, and the bowl was filled with water.
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