She was in the air -- her, and her ship. It was thrown there by the ocean, and it was reclaimed by it just as quickly. Waves rolled against the hull like punches, winds pierced the sail in all directions, and a torrent of rain wished to flood the deck. The storm ravaged the open sea as though it had been poisoned once again, a possibility that terrified Moana.

There was never a second for rest. Moana bounded from one side of the camakau to the next with a mixture of grace and rushed panic. Her fists coiled around the ropes, and she coiled the ropes around her fists. Beneath her feet, she felt the tossing of her inventory below deck, a scattered mess of food and equipment, as well as grand treasures to share with her people. Above her head, lightning cracked and split the sky with an illumination that unveiled the nothingness of night. All around her, the waves rose and fell, hills and dips that dwarfed her boat. She grunted with all her effort, vain and stubborn attempts to keep the ship steady.

A word burned her salted tongue. “Help!” she wanted to scream, to someone on board. When the skies turned dark and the waters were unsettled, that was how her and her people survived. But the chief sailed alone now, on this adventure with nothing but her wits and her connection to the ocean. That was to be enough, she had thought before setting out. Days had passed consisting only of sunny skies and gentle tides. With none of its usual warnings, that had all changed.

Moana recalled how familiar this was. Her first attempt at sailing flashed to her mind vividly, remembering how the water stung her skin, how the night sky spread darkness all around her. She was nothing like that now; the years had flowed, she was a veteran at the art of sailing. A wayfinder. She was intelligent, fast, and most importantly, brave. The ocean, as it roared against her, was wicked and unfair. The raw power of nature challenged the ego she had developed, and was making a mockery of it.

Another hard fall. The splintering of wood was confused for lightning. Moana thought nothing of it, as before her eyes was a more immediate threat. A wall of water, a titan reminiscent of Te Kā, rose against her path. The front of her ship impaled the wave, and Moana held her breath.

The ocean’s end is all that is beyond here, elders had told her. There are no islands. There are no ships that come from such islands. Barren. Why else do our people return from the ocean with nothing discovered?

There must be more, Moana argued. I’ll find it myself, then. The world is more than just a few rocks in the water.

Bubbles of air escaped her in a gasp. Her lips had moved to those words. All around her, the black-blue of the ocean consumed her. The surface beckoned to her, with a streak of light that stretched far into the distance.

“Towards the port! The oars, you fools, the oars!” Commands cracked just like the distant lightning, sparking just as much fear into the hearts of sailors. Rain and feet trampled the deck of the barque, all hands active and alert so that the ship could reach land. The sails were useless against the violent gusts, and so dozens of men huddled beneath the deck, gripping mighty oars that extended out into the crashing waves.

The chanting of row began. It was a steady rhythm in complete contrast to the reckless nature of the storm, the likes of which the captain had never seen. But like the chant, his gaze was fierce and unphased. Golden eyes were crusted with the salt of age, experience, and ocean air. The rain drenched his attire beneath his rain cloak, yet still he stood strong against the railing of his beloved ship, greeting the far away lighthouse with a confident grin. Like all storms before this, he would best it.

Ahead of the ship, however, was an anomaly that quickly caught the captain’s eye. The currents had been jagged and rough, but a pool before him was shifting. The chaos of the waters was being dragged to a calm, obeying the force of something else, something beyond nature. A shipmate addressed the captain, but he stared forward still. The water was lifting into the air, more and more, and soon its reach was extended to his barque.

An eruption, a geyser of water burst forth, carrying with it a thousand gallons up into the storming air. Something mighty had suddenly risen from the depths, casting aside a torrent of water that rushed down the slope of whatever it was. Wave after wave rolled down the shape, and barreled towards the up-slanted barque.

The captain lost his heart. When it returned to him, he shielded himself with his arms. “Hold--!!” Then, the crashing of water, a wave that passed over the heavy ship. The screams of men were washed underneath it; the barque and all of its glory had been overpowered.

The barque rocked hard back and forth in the wake of what had risen. The most experienced sailors were thrown off their feet from such a critical impact, and any lesser souls fainted from being rammed into walls. Those on deck, few as there had been, survived only with their arms tangled into the railings and ropes of their ship, submerged for entire seconds before they were allowed to breathe again.

Thunder boomed, and the captain was the first to rise, spitting aside the ocean’s taste. He was driven to know what had unfolded, to know what surreality had beaten him and his crew so vastly. The ship was all off course, but the beam of the lighthouse oriented him towards shore. And there, he gawked at what had been summoned by this storm. A silhouette of something massive, a shape that emerged from the ocean as tall as the mast, yet its posture was merely a crawl.

Lightning flashed, and the captain was the first to see, just a flicker, of what -- of who had risen. “In all of the Atlantic…” was the most he could mutter. A woman, the size of a whale. Black hair, the curls of which clung tightly to her broad shoulders. A moan, her breath like a howl of the winds. He had no doubt in his mind that this behemoth was the storm itself, a manifestation of nature’s fury.

Moana had surfaced with desperate gasps for air. Her arms beside her smacked into the surface, searching for the mercy of still ground. To her left and right, her head whipped in search of her boat, an important instinct. No where could it be found, not for as far as the water went on all around her. She persisted, she had to find it, but the truth of it being consumed was very real.

Despite the lack of oxygen, she still managed a fierce growl and a harsh slap against an incoming wave. “Caught in a storm… No boat…” Moana looked again, hoping so much that the boat would just be there, that it had been overlooked. “Ocean?! Are you serious?! I need my boat…! Or are you just going to carry me around again…?”

The ocean couldn’t be bargained with. It didn’t respond, and Moana felt ignored. It made her flinch, still bobbing in the water, how it struck her to be ignored. “Ocean?” She was searching over the tides again, not for her boat, but for communication. “... Ocean…?”

A line of gold scanned the horizon, and Moana’s eyes widened. She ducked partially into the water, expecting the light to cut her. It was nothing she had seen before, like a star was reaching out for her, but as it passed right over her and continued on its path, Moana felt no special effect or blessing. Silently expecting anything, all she felt was the mist of rain and the flow of the water.

But the light was all that was around. It was a signal to her, she thought, “... But a boat would have been better…” She panted, already finding herself drifting in its direction. Although it was dark, the glow of lightning among the clouds allowed her to see the silhouette that held the light. A mountain, or maybe just a tree. “... Land!!” Thunder cracked off in the ocean; she hurried towards this light, whatever it was.

Moana’s strokes were strong and diligent. Although the storm rumbled on, it had drastically weakened. The waves no longer rolled over, but their force still had to be fought against. Sooner than she expected, her hand had crashed into a bed of stone. She gripped it, and her swim turned to a crawl. Her legs gratefully had ground to be upon, but there was still a distance to the coast. The light passed her again, seemingly circling the same course without fail. It had to be a message for her.

It was from the light that she could start to understand the land. It was a peninsula, extended not far from the rest of the beach. Atop this slope was a tall structure that held the light proudly, its design still hidden behind a curtain of darkness and fog. At the base of the hill, Moana finally could claw at sand to pull herself onto a dry, solid surface. She wanted to collapse, but she dug her knees through the ground and trudged forward while the tides tickled her feet. The light’s source was just above her now, and hesitation slowed her just like the salt water.

Moana climbed the slope until she stood hunched in front of the structure, disregarding whatever twigs were snapping under each step. Had she not been weighed down by sea water, her height would surpass the pillar’s crown of which the beam of light streaked from just over her head. The details of the structure were now visible, that it stood tall with three segments stacked atop each other, with the base being the widest. With its magical light still circling and casting its beam far off into space, the suspicions Moana had seemed to be reality, that this was a ritual object of some sort filled with mystic energies.

“I’ve seen weirder,” she muttered. One of the weirdest creatures she met, in fact, would likely adore this shining item, whatever it was. Figuring what it was became her new curiosity, and she neared the structure even closer just as the beam passed over her hunched head.

One hand carried a lamp, and the other covered a yawn. Thunder rumbled alongside the crashing of waves against the coast, but the hard shell of the building muffled all the chaotic noise. The weather may have been eventful, but Sophie’s routine was unwavering. Whenever the rain was as bad as it was, it came down to her to maintain the lighthouse of Port de Désir, a responsibility that had proven consistently mundane.

The mechanisms had been reset, the tank was refueled, and a leak was plugged. Sophie wiped the sweat from her brow, the motion revealing a content, tired smile. Her red hair was damp from crossing the yard outside, and now her palms were blackened with oil. Her night gown had been spared from filth thanks to a work cloak and the skirt having been tucked and risen to above her knees. All that remained was blowing out the candles on her way out, “And then… it’s back to bed… for two more… hours…”

The final candle was about to be dismissed until she had heard a rustling -- crumbling, like rocks caving into the sea, followed shortly by the sound of snapping wood. It came from outside, a sound unlike the usual downpour. Sophie waited, wondering if it would happen again. Did something crash into the shore…? She hoped not; that was the whole point of her job.

The air felt tense as the wind outside picked up strength. Sophie fastened her cloak and ascended the stairs up to the lighthouse’s lamp, a chamber exposed to the open air. The trap door leaked water over her head as it was pushed open; the beam of light had just circled above her as she poked through from its floor.

But the only sounds she heard were the rain, the wind, and the whine of gears at work. Nothing seemed out of place, whether it was her own lamp or the lighthouse’s that illuminated it. Yet, it couldn’t be shaken off from her nerves that the air felt wrong. “I’ve seen worse storms,” Sophie told herself, “but… something still... isn’t right...”

Sophie’s heart slowed. She turned to her left, her lamp reserved to just herself before shedding its light to the open sky -- what should have been the open sky. The diligent beam of the lighthouse had shown nothing there a moment ago, but when her own lamp was cast in its direction, something stared back at her. Two eyes, lit by the lamp’s flame, peered into the caged chamber.

Moana lurked up the structure’s peak, peering into its thin opening to better understand how it functioned. The light and its pattern had continued to fascinate her, convinced that it had led her here intentionally. There had to be a message to decipher, or a hint as to what had happened in that storm. But she found that beneath the nest of the light was another wonder, another complexity in her twisted situation.

A giantess. A sprite. They discovered one another there in the lull of the storm’s ravaging. The wind quieted, giving them the peace to admire what wonders they were, to understand what impossible thing they were looking at.

“... Hello…?” Moana leaned closer to the opening. A row of fingers that wrapped over the edge twiddled up, a little wave to an equally little person.

Lightning flashed, and the image of the giant’s face became clear to Sophie for that spark of a second. It was not just a pair of eyes, but a nose, lips, and shambles of seaweed-like hair that traveled over the creature. A pair of hands, each finger thicker than her arms. A giant, like the myths from her books.

The word clogged her throat. She screeched suddenly and stumbled away in fright. The floor was slick, and so she tripped backwards into the lamp’s base. It was a graceless fall that paled to the immensity of the thing before her. She hoisted the lantern like a shield to defend herself, “A-A… giant!!”

Sophie succumbed to fear under the pressure of the invasive finger, immediately scrambling up the base of the lamp to be back on her feet. The slick floor saw her slip as soon as she was standing, however, and she reached out for support in the midst of her fall. What her hands blindly found was a panel to the lamp’s machinery, which immediately sprung free from its screws and fell alongside her with a loud clang. Though this left the intricate gears and valves of the lighthouse exposed to the elements, Sophie was far from the headspace required to comprehend what damage she had caused.

All Sophie wanted to do was run. There were others that she needed to warn. Her family flashed to mind, but the whole town needed to be alerted. Her heart drummed as rapidly as her feet hit the ground, a wheel of footsteps rolling down the staircase and out of the lamp room.

“Hey, hey! I-I was talking to you!” Moana called back to her, unable to sneak much of her hand into the lamp room despite her attempts. “Don’t be scared, I’m not here to hurt you!”

Sophie screamed, a well-enough answer for Moana to know that she was, in fact, terrified. She couldn’t let the tiny figure get away from her, not when she still had so many questions to have answered. She sidestepped around the lighthouse, tracing the direction that the tiny person had dived away in.

Sophie stumbled off the last step and onto the next level of the lighthouse. She moved so recklessly that she slammed shoulder-first into a wall, yet she didn’t lose pace nor did she stop screaming. She spun around on her feet in a dance towards the next staircase, but a blotch of shadow covered a window as she neared it. Her run came to a slippery halt, her screaming momentarily stunned; a massive eye peered through the window, like a beast on the hunt.

“There you are!” Sophie heard the giant announce. And so she screamed again, dropping the lantern at her feet where the light rolled around the floor. Although unintended, this did free up both hands, which were put to good use by shutting the shudders hard on the window to close it. Of course, that didn’t ward off the giant, and so she still trembled backwards, reeling from how near she just was to that monster.

Sophie’s heart exploded when a door burst from behind her. It was a balcony exit, and forcing it open was a claw-like finger, a brutish tendril that wrapped around the doorframe in search of her. “I’m not trying to hurt you!” Moana beckoned aggressively. “I just want to know where I am--”

Another scream, as sharp as the first. “Giant!! Giant!!” she was mad with her yelling. She was spooked again when she felt a hard knock against her shoulder -- a broom that she had walked into, left out by one of her cousins. She grabbed the handle like she was equipping a weapon and, driven by instincts alone, she charged at the finger and struck it. Swat after swat, the dusty head of the broom relentlessly whipped into bone and knuckle.

But the animal-like hand hardly flinched in response. Moana only felt that her target was close, and so she forced her wrist into the lighthouse deeper. Twisting fingers eventually hooked around the broom and stole it from Sophie’s grip, unintentionally grinding the wood into two halves between them. Sophia screamed again, the only hindrance she could actually cause for the giant outside.

The annoyances piled up against Moana and her patience. Reaching in wasn’t working, and her hand’s girth was too much to just exit the door. She tugged it out, taking part of the door frame with her. She shook off the little debris, but while doing so, the lighthouse beamed into her face, as though taunting her with its blinding glare. In her frustration, Moana applied a firm handle on either side of the spire.

“Okay, that’s enough!” she warned. “Just step outside please!” And so she began to shake the building back and forth, mocking its supposed sturdiness. Its foundation into the ground weakened and threatened to be dug up, while a cacophony of items and supplies crashing about came from inside.

Sophie’s ceaseless scream continued on in a staggered pattern as the lighthouse around her rocked about hazardously. The giant was summoning an earthquake, so it felt like, and Sophie no longer had anything to defend herself. In an attempt to balance herself, her foot landed unexpectedly on the lantern she had dropped earlier. Her howl turned into a sharp gasp as she fell, blindly looking for something to catch. Something was in her hands, but it succumbed to her weight for a short drop, proving useless in stopping Sophie’s trip. She didn’t care or even realize that it was a kerosene valve that went up to the lamp above, its gas now brokenly set to dispense limitlessly. Before it even registered to her that the mechanics could be damaged, she was already off towards the next flight of stairs, racing down them towards ground level.

Moana stood back up to full height, whipping her wet hair behind her. She huffed, realizing that she wasn’t going to calm down someone so much smaller than her. She had to think of a better approach, but all that came to mind was the bitter smell of smoke burning her nostrils. She huffed, then huffed again, not realizing anything was wrong until she found herself bordering on a sneeze.

“Ha… haah…” Moana leaned back, and before she could resist any longer, a bullet of a sneeze escaped her. “Ha-choo!” She nearly blew herself off of her feet, the chemicals causing her to be quite dazed. The mystery of what purpose the pillar served only seemed to deepen, now that she had concluded that it not only produced blinding light, but toxic gasses as well.

The sneeze was a forgettable affliction for Moana, but the impact of such an incidental action did not happen unnoticed by others -- neither Sophie, nor her aunt from within the living quarters. The sound of the abrupt wind, like a low pop and a howl, stood out from the claps of thunder. The music of the storm had been a lullaby for the senior lightkeeper, but the noise of something so different was worthy of concern. The older woman curiously rose from her bed, her feet fitting into boots as she bundled a robe over herself. “What has Sophie done now?” she grumbled, imagining a nightmare of a scene unfolding at the lighthouse across the yard.

Yet not even that exaggerated idea came close to the reality outside the living quarters. The old woman saw from her window the sight of something massive, eclipsing her view of the lighthouse as though the building was gone. She massaged her eyes, she wiped the window clean of fog, but the image of a giant never washed away. She was stunned, and then she remembered, “Sophie!”

The veteran lightkeeper hastily added a coat as an additional layer against the rain. She ran outside, leaving the door creaking open as her feet splashed through puddles. Following her heels only to the doorstep were children in a row by height, curious little heads that couldn’t sleep through the weather, and certainly not when they heard their mother barging outside. Neither they nor their mother had the wits to handle the scene beyond awing at it. It was undeniable, a dream come to life, that a giant was raiding their lighthouse.

Sophie kicked open the door to the outside, nearly tripping as she rushed out. She squeaked a few steps into the rain, huddling back when a gigantic foot kicked the path in front of her. She looked up, thinking that she was being hunted, but it was just the giant pacing about, waving away the plumes of smoke as she gagged on them. Sophie realized this was her opportunity, and so she darted ahead with a squeak. She dodged another footfall, then leaped over a muddy toe. The danger and its weight always lurked overhead, that the giant could misstep and completely flatten her.

The living quarters were no sanctuary, but it was where Sophie was headed. To her relief, she wasn’t experiencing this alone. “Aunt Clara!” she shouted. She stuttered to explain anything else, only able to spit out, “G-G-Giant!”

Aunt Clara bundled her robe tighter around her shoulders, bracing against the wind but fearing the massive person far more. She waved at Sophie, “Get inside! Get away from that thing!”

“We have to tell the town!” Sophie shouted. “We need to-- Guhh!” Suddenly, the puddles at her feet were disappearing; she was being lifted off the ground and into the misty air. Her feet kicked wildly as if they were still running, but she was claimed by the pinch of two fingers, caught by the back of her dress and lifted up like an animal plucked from its nature.

Moana, still coughing from the fumes of gas, had at last captured her target. “You’re fast,” she admitted, “but not fast enough.”

Sophie squealed, her legs still having not given up the run even while suspended in the air. Her hands remained crossed over her chest, believing still that she had her hands on the lantern from before. A long beat passed before she was turned towards  the creature’s face, finally forced to accept that she didn’t have a chance of running away. At first, she grimaced to the face of the giant holding her, but then she was flinching away from the height itself. Desperate, fast hands scurried up Moana’s fingertips, painfully wishing they would at least claim her more properly.

But there was no denying that it was her, the giant herself, that frightened Sophie more than anything. When Moana inhaled just to begin speaking, that alone tickled Sophie into yet another yelp. Moana scoffed that same breath, “For someone so small, you sure manage to be very loud…”

“I’m only loud! When I think! That I might die!” Sophie shouted. She would defend herself even in these final moments, so she predicted, even against such a minor taunt. She scanned the sea-soaked titan again, struggling to comprehend the size of such a being. Nothing like this had ever happened to her average life; it was something spawned right from her books, a fantasy come to life with all of its startling implications. The scenario was whimsical and exciting, she had to admit, but not at all as romantic as her novels.

Moana huffed, then relaxed her expression. She blinked, allowing her emotions to cool before continuing. “Why do you think you’re going to die?”

“B-B-Because--!”

“No yelling!” she urged. “I can-- I can hear you.”

“... B-Because… y-you’re a m-monster?” Sophie waited, wondering if that was enough of an answer. “And… you’re g-going to eat me…?”

“That’s what you…?” Moana broke into a giggle. She shook her head, “I’m not eating anybody. Do I look like I’d eat people?”

Lightning crashed into the pitch black waters. A streak of white light illuminated the sky, and Sophie saw a flash of her massive keeper; long black hair drenched like deep sea salvage, eyes of cunning and boldness, shoulders as broad as a house, and a smile of teeth, a rack of weapons each bigger than Sophie’s head. The rip of thunder shook the air around Sophie, but when Moana readied for a scream, there was a limp silence.

Sophie had fainted. Moana groaned, “Now who do I ask…?”

From below, the uneasy cry of an animal lured her attention towards a foggy glow of light. It was another person, Moana was relieved to see, juggling a lantern with one hand while attempting to settle a riled horse. It was Aunt Clara, bundled into a robe and fighting with the animal so that she could mount it, a task near impossible due to the monster just behind her. Moana smiled, her hope weakly revived.

“E-Excuse me!” Moana said, starting towards the stable. Each step slammed into the earth with tall splashes of mud. “I just want to talk, I-I just want to know where I am. And,” she hesitated, then held the unconscious Sophie up forward, “is this... yours?”

Both Clara and the horse roared with fear at the sight approaching them. The horse, as though finally understanding, allowed Clara to hop on and was immediately in a rush towards the fence, onto the road towards town. The murky light of the lantern barely illuminated the path, but it made it especially easy for Moana to track. After a beat of delay, Moana was after them, “Why are you running? Why is everyone running?! Please!”

Clara shivered and yelped to the same rhythm of Moana’s footsteps. The giant was getting closer and closer; Clara fastened her hood and focused ahead of her, only thinking to outspeed the invader. Suddenly, her plans had to change; Moana had lunged her leg right over her and stomped in her path, blocking off the gate and its exit. Clara froze, but the horse cried out -- it jumped over the foot in a single bound, not from bravery but sheer reaction. The horse slid along the mud, but its legs kicked back into gear and were off in a sprint. Clara couldn’t believe it herself, but she wouldn’t question it either, still in shock that she had nearly been stepped on.

Moana’s frustration peaked again upon being dodged. She saw the fleeing lantern light as a symbol of her answers running away from her, like a bizarre game of chase. Resorting to pleaing, she called out to Clara, “Please don’t go! I-I’m just as confused as you are!” But Clara kept running steadfast down the peninsula. Moana scoffed, “Am I being unreasonable?! I just want to know where I am! And why everything is so small! And I want to know what that thing is!” She pointed back towards the lighthouse, accidentally using Sophie’s body to do so. She whipped the motionless body back towards her, quietly apologized, but something more concerning flared in her vision.

Atop the lighthouse, a fire burned. Moana was bewildered, intimidated by the tower and its head of flames. The rotating light was chugging to an unintended stop until it eventually froze, aimed opposite of the sea and shining in Moana’s direction. “That’s supposed to work like that,” she chuckled, “because... magic. Right?” She looked at Sophie. No response from her, but a loud pop from the fire and the sudden dismissal of the light beam was answer enough.

Moana dashed towards the lighthouse, but she was torn back to where the rider had run off to. Decisions had to be made quickly, and so she chose first to try and contest with the fire. The rain was keeping the flames only tamed to an extent, but it refused to die, even when Moana tried blowing into the lightroom. She gagged again, remembering that salty chemical scent. She deduced there had to be some kind of a fuel source, and that this -- whatever it is -- was too complex for her.

Lest the flames were allowed to swallow the entire plot of land and its housings, Moana made the fire her priority. The rain fought down the flares, but neither the wind nor gusts of her own breaths were enough to kill it entirely. Worse yet, the toxic gas leaking from within burned Moana’s throat and eyes, regardless of how big she was. Something unique must have been burning, she realized, but it couldn’t burn if it was smothered.

Moana raced down the rocky incline she had scaled earlier, her feet reaching the shore with a mudslide behind her. She would need both hands to continue, and so while Sophie was still out cold, Moana pocketed her between her breasts, up against the low collar of her dress. A sway to the sides checked to see if Sophie would ragdoll out of position, but once confirmed she would be situated well at her bosom, Moana immediately shoveled two huge handfuls of sand. With that in her grasp, she trudged back up to the lighthouse and cascaded the load over top of the fire. Sand poured down within the lighthouse from the lamp room, swallowing the fires wherever they burned into a dying hiss.

Smoke and ash spiraled into the air while Moana sat crouched before the pillar. The glow of embers was a faint memory of the proud beam of light it once projected, the very streak through the sky that had guided Moana out of the waters that had abandoned her. She blamed herself for its destruction, and was now left without answers in a land strangely foreign to her. There was much to be confused about, but Moana knew what she was; a hunter, a survivor, an explorer, and a chieftain. Where she was and how she came to be there were mysteries she would have resolved, and that adventure began with the woman that eluded her, whoever these keepers of light were.