Chapter One

The boat lurched. My gloved hands slipped on the wet railing as I scrambled to stay upright. The cold wasn't your normal kind of cold, this shit crept in and gnawed straight through to the bone. My boots kept sliding on the deck while fog swallowed everything except the slam of waves and the groan of steel.

Sarkivik emerged reluctantly, half-hidden by the fog. The cliffs shot up from the water like broken teeth over the churning ocean. Waves hammered the rocks below, clawing their way toward land. The air reeked of salt and rotting fish, making my stomach roll.

My anxiety had been mounting ever since we left the tiny village of Ittoqqortoormiit, where the ferry dropped us off days ago. The people there hadn’t been much help. They were tight-lipped about Sarkivik but offered one piece of advice: respect the customs and be wary of the locals.

As if that explained anything.

But something in the wind scraped at me, a chill that whispered of trouble ahead.

It’s just in your head, Pearl, I told myself and focused on the task at hand- we needed to secure the boat and get ashore.

“Trevor, tie us off!” I shouted over the howling wind.

Trevor, our logistics guy, was always first to tackle the grunt work. He climbed over the side, boots landing on the slick dock with a thud. Bracing against the wind, he looped the rope around a bollard, his movements quick and practiced. He gave the line a firm tug to check the knot before turning back.

“All set,” he muttered, shaking off his hands and wiping them on his jacket.

I stepped off next, and my boot sank straight into wet sand. Icy water crept in, stabbing at my toes like tiny needles. Perfect. Just what I needed.

Jaime landed behind me with a thud. “You good?” he murmured, quiet enough for only me to hear.

I nodded quickly. “Fine,” I lied, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

“Bullshit,” he quipped, stepping closer.

It was hard to ignore Jaime, not just because he stood six feet tall, all broad shoulders and solid muscle. It was those blue eyes, sharp, always watching, like they could see right through the walls I put up. His red hair, curling damply under his hood from the mist, giving him a boyish charm. He was our dive specialist. The one who was supposed to keep us alive out in the freezing, unpredictable waters we came here to study.

He was also my biggest mistake. One I had to face on this trip.

Back when Jaime was my student in my marine biology class at Westmount University during his master’s program, we crossed a line we shouldn’t have. For a year, I told myself it meant nothing, just a distraction for both of us. Then he said he loved me and asked me to move in. That’s when simple things got complicated. I ended it because I had to. Jaime deserved better than someone carrying the kind of emotional wreckage I couldn’t unload. He deserved someone like Kim.

She groaned, looping her arm through mine, trying to rub warmth back into her fingers. “Can you blame me? This place is trying to turn us into popsicles.” Her braid snapped in the wind as she grinned. “But you know what? I’m gonna make this work.”

Kim was good like that. Tall and lean, she had a grounded calm that made you believe things wouldn’t fall apart. She always found the silver lining when I couldn’t. She handled the data, the samples, and, like me, she was a professor at Westmount University. She knew about Jaime too. Never judged me. Never brought it up. Just smiled once and said, You trained him for me.

We both stared ahead at the village, the wind cutting through every layer. She leaned in, her voice low. “Ready?”

“Hell no,” I muttered.

She gave my arm a quick squeeze and let go. “We’ve got this,” she said, like she actually believed it.

I wished I could borrow some of that confidence, just for a second.

My fingers brushed over Mom’s locket, the last piece of her I still held.It was part of a set, a locket for me, a ring for her. Every time I touched the locket, it felt like she was still with me, like some part of her was just a heartbeat away.

Jonathan came off the boat last, his shoulders squared like he was ready to claim the whole island, snapping me out of my thoughts. At fifty, he still had that ex-Marine build: square jaw, piercing eyes, the kind of authority he didn't need to work for. As our security lead, he was here to handle permits and keep us breathing if things went sideways.

“Try not to wander off, Pearl,” Jonathan called, his smirk smug and biting. His gaze slid over me, sticking like oil. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost out here.”

Before I could answer, Trevor snorted. “She’s hard to lose,” he muttered, his grin curling up mean. “Takes up plenty of space.”

The insult landed like it always did. Familiar. Tiring. At 5'2“ and 200 pounds, I'd heard it all before. I straightened my back, lifted my chin, and let the words bounce off me.

“Cut that shit out,” Jaime growled, stepping between us.

Jonathan raised his hands, still smirking. “Relax, man. Just having fun.”

Kim brushed her hand against mine as we started walking. “Don't let them get to you,” she whispered.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Like it matters,” I muttered, but it always did.

We trudged up the narrow path toward the village, sand clinging to our boots. The houses looked ancient, their dark wood twisted from years of salt and wind. Smoke curled from crooked chimneys, vanishing into the gray mist. The whole place felt untouched and cold, like it had existed long before us and wouldn't give a damn when we were gone.

The villagers stood waiting at the edge, wrapped in furs that blended seamlessly with the gray cliffs behind them. They watched us with unblinking eyes, their silence heavy and oppressive. At their center stood a woman, frost dusting her fur-lined cloak. She pulled back her hood, revealing silver-streaked hair and a face carved by years of hardship. Something cruel lingered in those features.

“Welcome to Sarkivik,” she said, authority clear in every word. Her sharp gaze swept over us, pausing on me for a heartbeat longer. “I am Tanya Illiak, guardian of this land.”

Jonathan let out a short laugh. “Guardian? What does that even mean? You’re in charge here?”

Her expression remained blank. “I protect this village and its people. We have rules. Follow them, and you’ll be fine.”

Jaime stepped up beside Jonathan, his tone calm. “We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Tanya’s eyes hardened. “Good. But the Abyss rules these waters. They are not yours to enter.”

A chill settled in my gut. That was exactly why we were here.

Jonathan’s lips curled, his irritation barely held back. “Look, we have government approval.” He waved the permits in front of her. “We’re here to dive and study the algae. That’s non-negotiable.”

Tanya didn’t budge. “You can study our preserved samples,” she spoke with a calm resolve that tightened something in my chest. “That’s all you get. The Abyss’s gift isn’t yours to take.”

Jonathan’s jaw tightened. “We didn’t come all this way for leftovers.”

I stepped in before things could spiral. “Tanya, we respect that this is your home. And as Lead Researcher of this team, if preserved samples are the only option, we’ll start there.” My eyes flicked from Tanya to Jonathan.

His glare burned into me. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

I held his stare. “We agreed to study the algae. If following their rules gets us that, then that’s what we do.”

He muttered something under his breath but backed down.

Tanya’s eyes moved between us, sharp and unreadable. After a pause, she gave a thin, tight smile. “Thank you for understanding... Miss?”

“Dr. Pearl Hart,” I said, trying my best to sound confident.

Her head tilted slightly. “Hart...” she murmured. “We’ve had Harts here before.”

My chest clenched. I knew exactly who she meant. My parents. They’d come here years ago. They never came back.

“Yes,” I managed, my throat tight.

She studied me a moment longer, then nodded like she’d figured something out. Her tone shifted to all business. “Your cabins are ready.” She gestured to a young man behind her. “Sebastian.”

Sebastian stepped forward. Tall, with watchful dark eyes, someone who’d learned early to listen more than talk.

“My son,” Tanya said. “He’ll show you to your cabins.”

Sebastian nodded, motioning us to follow.

Jonathan moved closer and whispered, “This is bullshit. We need to push back.”

I kept walking. “We’re guests. Follow their rules, and maybe we get more access later. Don’t fuck this up before we even start.”

Jonathan’s jaw twitched. He turned sharply. “Trevor!” he snapped. “Start unloading the gear.”

Trevor shot him a look, irritation evident in his expression. He muttered something and trudged back to the boat, his movements jerky. Clearly didn't like being the errand boy, especially in front of everyone.

As I walked, Sebastian fell in beside me, reaching for my bag. “You don't have to, “ I started.

“I insist,” he replied with a kind smile, taking the bag from me and hanging it over his shoulder. “Lead researchers shouldn't carry their bags.”

“Well... thanks,” I mumbled, feeling a tad bit awkward.

“Not every day we get visitors like you,” he said. “Ones who actually listen? Even rarer.” There was something genuine in his voice that made me look at him closely.

“Listening seemed smart,” I said, giving him a smile.

He chuckled. “Smart, maybe. But most people don't bother.”

The way he said it, like being ignored was normal. I nodded, unsure what to say. Sebastian couldn't be more than twenty-three or twenty-four, but he carried this quiet confidence. Not cocky, just steady.

“You're different from the others,” he said, glancing sideways.

“Different, how?”

His smile was faint but genuine. “You actually seem to care.”

The compliment caught me off guard. My cheeks warmed. “Just don’t want to get kicked out before we start.”

He laughed. “Good plan. Sarkivik doesn’t do second chances.”

We trudged across the sand until we stopped in front of a weathered building. The sign above the door swayed in the wind, its paint chipped and faded. Sarkivik Inn. The place was two stories, with narrow windows glowing faintly in the dark. The wooden walls looked solid enough, but years of storms had left their mark.

Sebastian pushed the door open, and the scent of old wood and sea salt greeted us. Inside, the lobby was small and dim, with a worn rug and a desk cluttered with papers.

He grabbed a set of keys from behind the counter and turned to us. “Your rooms are down that hall.” He handed me a key marked 1A. “This one’s yours. They’re not fancy, but the heaters work.”

Kim and Jaime shuffled in behind me, their boots thudding on the creaky floorboards.

Jaime eyed the hallway. “Well,” he said, trying for optimism, “at least it’s dry.”

Kim snorted. “Barely.”

I smirked, but exhaustion tugged at me. “Dry’s good enough.”

Jonathan’s voice came from behind me, dripping with sarcasm. “Great. Now we’re staying in a haunted shack.”

I clenched the key in my hand, ignoring him. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

Sebastian smirked but stayed quiet. He handed back my bag, his fingers brushing mine. “This one’s yours,” he murmured, nodding to the nearest cabin. “Not fancy, but you’ll stay warm.”

“Thanks.” The word felt heavier than it should have.

His dark eyes lingered on mine for a beat too long before he stepped back. “See you around, Pearl.” The way he said my name made something twist in my gut.

Jonathan noticed, his gaze darting between us. “You know,” he muttered, his tone dripping with implication, “Kim and Jaime are definitely fucking tonight. Maybe you want company too.”

Disgust curled through me. “Pass.” I turned on my heel and headed for the cabin.

He trailed after me, too close, trying to coax me. “C’mon, Pearl. Don’t be uptight. I can rock your world. Make this boring research trip exciting.”

I didn't answer. I Just went inside, slammed the door, and clicked the lock. Leaning against it, I let out a shaky breath.

His voice carried through the thin walls. “You'll come around, Pearl. You'll see. I know how to make this fun.”

“Not in this lifetime,” I muttered.

I scanned the room. Small. Cramped. It stank of mold and old peat. The walls were damp, paint peeling off in sad, curling strips. The bed looked ready to give up. When I tossed my bag onto it, the springs let out a tortured groan.

The air was sour and stale, like no one had bothered to open a window in years. I took a slow breath through my nose. Just temporary. Just part of the deal.

I grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. The tiles were cracked and freezing beneath my feet and when I splashed water on my face, it hit me like a slap.

I looked in the mirror. Pale skin, dark hair hanging limp and dull. My eyes were shadowed with dark circles, the exhaustion carved deep. The cold hadn’t been kind to me. Traveling through it had stripped away whatever energy I had left.

Nothing strong stared back. Just someone worn out. Just someone scared.

I changed as fast as I could and sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes landed on the old gas heater tucked in the corner. Maybe some heat would help. I shuffled over, knees stiff from the cold. The metal casing was dented and streaked with rust. I turned the knob and clicked the ignition switch.

Nothing.

I tried again. The igniter sparked, but no flame. Just a hollow click-click-click. I leaned down, peering into the empty chamber. No hiss of gas. No faint smell of propane. The tank was dry. The cold wrapped itself tighter around me, sinking into my bones. I rubbed my hands together, but it was useless against the chill. The heater wasn’t going to save me. Not tonight.

To distract myself, I took out my phone, and, bingo,there was no signal. Of course, we had been informed that radio was the only means of communication in this remote village.

I sank back onto the bed, staring at the wall. My thoughts circled like vultures, picking apart every scrap of doubt.

Why am I here?

Five months ago, Dr. Henderson,the dean at the university where I taught ,called me. He'd been buzzing about the algae like it'd cure cancer or something. He even managed to secure government funding for this trip to study its properties.. But for me? This wasn't about research.

I was here because my parents were.

I was just fourteen when they vanished. Everyone said drowning, but it never made sense. They were careful, experienced, and always had a plan. Them.. drowning. It just didn’t make sense.

I remember our empty house afterward. The quiet hurt worse than any noise. Nothing felt real anymore.

I thought living with my aunt would help. That it’d make me feel safe again.

My uncle made sure that didn't happen.

It started like the usual, he would call me “little Pearl .” Would mess up my hair. Would sit on my bed when I couldn't sleep, saying soft things. But then his hand stayed too long on my shoulder. His words turned wrong, made my skin crawl. Every touch left me feeling dirty, like I'd never be clean again.

Every night I prayed he'd stay away. He didn't. His presence became a weight that just crushed me, inside out. His touch was something I couldn't wash off. I scrubbed my skin raw in scalding showers but it didn't help. It never helped. I felt trapped in my own body.

That's when I found the razor.

The first cut was just a test, a quick sting, a flash of red, and everything else blurred out. The chaos quieted, narrowing to that thin line of crimson. For those few seconds, something was finally mine to control.

After that, it became a ritual. Each mark, my choice. My pain. Not his. The cuts got deeper, more frequent. At night, I’d trace the raised lines with my fingertips, counting them like prayer beads. One, two, three... until the panic eased. Some nights it took more than others.

But one night.. one night it became too much. Way too much. It's all still hazy. There was blood, so much blood, and then my aunt came running.She cradled me in her arms.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, holding me tight. I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop sobbing.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. Her eyes burned with a quiet rage I’d never seen before. She packed our bags, took my hand, and we left.

“You’re safe now,” she said, her knuckles white on the wheel. “I’ll handle everything.”

I never asked what “everything“ meant, and she never told me.

New York became home, sort of. Far from that house. Far from him. But distance doesn’t erase shadows. Some nights, I’d wake up with the taste of copper on my tongue, like blood lingering in my mouth. My fingers would trace the scars running up my arms. Each mark was a reminder: sometimes pain was better than feeling nothing.

Therapy helped me move forward, but the past still slipped through the cracks. Like that night. Him stumbling into my room, drunk, for the last time. Me, not frozen, not again. Then the spray of red. His face twisted in shock. My aunt in the doorway, then pulling me into her arms, holding me together when I was ready to shatter.

I buried those memories deep, sealed them away with everything else.

But then the dreams started.

Not about him, those I could handle. These were different. Icy water. Endless black. Skeleton hands dragging me down. No faces, just pulling, wrists, ankles, deeper into nothing. Always that pale light far off. Pulsing. Watching. Waiting. Like something knew what I'd done. What we'd done.

I'd wake up gasping, choking on air, skin cold and chest tight, but the fear didn’t leave. It clung to me like a second skin, always there. The scars ached on those nights. I never knew why. I could never understand.

The memories blurred and bled into the present. I lay back on the bed, clutching my mother’s locket in my hand and then without realizing it, I started humming. The melody rose softly, a fragment of a lullaby my mother used to sing when I was little.

“Hush now, the ocean sighs,

Deep below where silence lies.

Waves will cradle, shadows keep,

In the abyss, all things sleep.”

Her voice used to be warm and low, a sound that made the world feel smaller, safer. I held on to that memory, letting the tune fill the hollow spaces in my chest.

“Stars may fade, the tide may rise,

But you are safe where love abides.

Drenched in peace, let darkness creep,

In the abyss, all things sleep.”

The song wavered as my voice cracked, but I kept going, the words wrapping around me like armor. I closed my eyes, letting the melody carry me, pushing back the painful memories clawing at the edges of my mind.

I didn’t think I’d fall asleep, but I did. And as I drifted, the song followed, its gentle rhythm like waves lapping softly againsta shore.