A hard coast of salvage towns and drowned water, from the piers of Saltwind down to the roaring funnel of Gull's Throat — the world of The Drowned Seat.
The Brine Reaches is a working coast. Tar and rot and harbor grease; hulls
scavenged off the rocks and sold back to the men who lost them; towns that
sit low to the water and take what the tide brings in. Nothing here is
ornamental. Everything here is salvage.
It was not always so. Once, the Reaches answered to a single seat — and then
a power that rules by erasure drowned it, scattered the line that held it,
and scrubbed the memory of it from stone and song. Generations on, the work
is nearly done. The old story is a bad-luck song. The drowned capital is a
ruin sailors give a wide berth. And the truth of who was unmade has slipped
beneath notice, the way the tide takes back a footprint.
The sea gives, and the sea takes, and every ebb leaves its tell.
The Brine Reaches — the coast where The Tell of the Tide unfolds.
The towns, the water, and the work of the Brine Reaches — gathered here, and growing with each book.
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