Midyear break began under rain. The harbour boat left Tidefall through grey mist and rough water. Jasper sat inside this time. He had learned that open-deck bravery in winter mostly meant being cold for no reason. Harper called him weak while wearing two jumpers. Ava had packed snacks according to travel duration. Harper ate one thirty minutes early and ruined the system.

"Now the distribution is wrong."

"The food still exists."

"That is not the point."

Jasper laughed. As the boat moved away from Tidefall, the presence faded. He felt the exact moment. Not a door closing. Distance. Like a radio signal becoming weaker until it could no longer be distinguished from noise. Jasper told Ava. She noted the location on the boat map. Harper watched.

"I thought we weren't making everything data."

Ava said, "Distance is useful." Jasper agreed. Not summer warm. By the time the ordinary coast appeared, the presence was gone. Home was warmer than Tidefall. Perth winter sunlight still filled the kitchen in the middle of the day, and Jasper's father complained dramatically about mornings below ten degrees. His mum hugged him for a long time. Then held him at arm's length.

"You look tired."

"I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow. Jasper corrected.

"A bit tired."

"Better."

He told his parents about Harper's fall in person even though letters had already covered it. The telling changed when their faces were in front of him. His mum went pale. His dad stopped making jokes. Jasper explained the second fall too.

"And the sea did nothing?" his father asked.

"Nothing weird. Staff got him."

His mother stared at the table.

"Do you still want to go back?"

The same question from parent weekend. Jasper answered the same way.

"Yes."

This time she nodded without asking twice. The break was quieter than the first. Jasper did not spend every day missing school. He saw family. Played games. Went to the beach once and felt ordinary water again. He liked ordinary water. He also dreamed twice. The first dream was nothing but dark waves seen from far above. The second was stranger. Jasper stood on a beach at night. The tide kept arriving but never retreated. Each wave stopped at his feet, held for a moment, then disappeared rather than flowing back. Far offshore, something waited. Jasper did not ask what it was. He simply stood. The dream ended. He wrote it down the next morning. Not because Ava asked.

Because he wanted to remember without deciding what it meant. That felt like progress too. Harper sent a letter midway through break. I WENT SWIMMING. Then read on. Jasper stared at the first line. POOL. NOT OCEAN. I'M NOT INSANE. Choosing Tide waited too. Four Orders. Permanent placement. Brannor. Velmor. Calyx. Nocten. The Tide would.

MUM MADE ME DO TWO LESSONS BECAUSE I KEPT SAYING I COULD SWIM FINE. IT WAS ACTUALLY OKAY. DO NOT TELL ANYONE I SAID THAT. Ava's letter arrived the same day. It contained a small table titled COASTAL INCIDENT FACTS WE ACTUALLY KNOW. Jasper laughed for nearly a minute. He wrote back to both. The second half of first year waited. They had begun hearing more about it from older students. First-years would not choose. At home, that sounded like another school tradition. Jasper did not yet understand how complicated the word Tide was about to become.