Neteyam hadn’t expected the sea to look like this. The water was bright and deep all at once, teal in a way that felt unreal, like something painted to tempt you closer. When his family landed in the Metkayina village, he secured his ikran and stayed near them, shoulders squared, already in the habit of being the steady one. The horn sounded, low and long, and the reef people gathered. Tonowari came forward with the weight of the ocean in his stance. They had arrived with no promise, no invitation—just faith, which felt thin when set against so many watching eyes.