Chapter Four

As I stood in the lab, sorting equipment, my thoughts spun in circles. The morning light felt too bright, too sharp. Sleep had barely touched me. After they dragged Amanda from my room, her face wouldn’t leave me. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing her. And when I did, questions gnawed at me. What was she going through? What did she mean about the sunlight and the algae?

The creak of the lab door opening pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see Tanya entering. Just like yesterday, she was the picture of calm composure. But her face was hard, her eyes assessing me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

“Pearl,” she said in a steady tone. “I need a word. Outside.”

I hesitated, sensing that this was no mere request. Pulling off my gloves, I followed her into the crisp morning air. The village was quiet, the stillness broken only by the distant crash of waves.

“What happened last night,” she began, as we walked past the inn. “I want to clarify. Amanda has... episodes. She's unwell. Mentally unstable. She has, what do you call it.. Ahh.. schizophrenia.”

I frowned at how easily she declared Amanda’s whole episode as ‘schizophrenia’. “That didn't look like schizophrenia. That looked like something else entirely.”

Tanya stopped walking and turned to face me. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened, clearly she didn’t like what I just said. “I'm telling you what you need to know. Amanda is sick. She's been this way for years. She isn't dangerous. She just needs care.”

I stared at her, I knew in my gut that there was more to this story. Something about the way her gaze pressed on me and the tightness in her mouth - it all felt wrong. Before I could press her further, she nodded toward the path ahead. “I want to show you something.”

We walked in silence, side by side. The path wound past the village and toward the cliffs, where the ground was rocky and uneven. At the top of a small rise, Tanya stopped. Ahead of us was a graveyard, tucked into the hillside - a simple collection of weathered stones, some marked with carvings, others bare.

Tanya walked forward, her boots crunching on the frost-covered grass, and stopped at two side-by-side graves. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the names etched into the stones.

DIANA HART and PETER HART.

“What is this?” I whispered, more to myself than her.

Tanya turned to me, her face softened by something I couldn't quite place - perhaps sympathy, or maybe regret. “You look like your mother,” she said. “I recognized you the moment you told me your name.”

I blinked, my throat tightening. “My parents?”

She nodded. “They came here years ago. For the algae, just like you.” She gestured to the graves. “But they couldn't survive the waters. It took weeks for their bodies to come ashore.”

It was too much. I thought they were never found. That’s what we were told. If their bodies were found, why weren’t they sent to us? I could’ve seen them one last time. I wanted to ask Tanya, but I didn’t have the courage. Something inside me was breaking, like I was finally getting closure.

Tears stung my eyes as I knelt by the graves, my trembling hands tracing the grooves of my mother's name. “I'm sorry,” I muttered, not sure who the apology was for,them, myself, or the impossible weight of the choices ahead.

Tanya stood a few steps away and when I looked back at her, her eyes softened, but only slightly.

“I've shown you their resting place,” she spoke as she turned to leave. “Now find it in your heart to let us rest. Take your team and leave, Pearl.”

She left me there, alone between two stones that now felt heavier than I could bear.

The walk back from the graveyard was colder than I remembered, or perhaps it was just me, feeling the kind of chill that doesn't come from the weather. My parents. Here. Buried in a place I barely knew, their names carved into stones older than my memories of them.

By the time I reached the inn, my throat felt tight, and my chest ached like it was carrying too much. Instead of going to my room, I found myself standing outside Kim's door, staring at the light seeping out from under it. I needed someone to talk to, so I knocked softly.

The door opened a crack, and Kim's face appeared, framed by loose strands of hair that had slipped from her ponytail. Her inquisitive eyes softened as she saw me. “Pearl? What's wrong?”

I stepped inside without a word. The warmth of her room hit me immediately, the faint scent of eucalyptus tea lingering in the air. For a moment, I just stood there, trying to figure out how to say it.

“I found their graves,” I finally blurted out. My voice wavered, and the words felt like jagged glass in my throat.

Kim's brow furrowed as she stepped closer. “Whose graves?”

“My parents,” I whispered. “Tanya showed me... she said they came here for the algae too. And that the ocean... the ocean took them.” The words tumbled out faster now, as if saying it quickly would hurt less. It didn't.

Kim's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Her expression shifted from confusion to shock, then to something softer. Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight hug before I could fall apart completely.

“Oh, Pearl,” she murmured into my hair. “I'm so sorry.”

The warmth of her embrace broke something loose in me, and a choked sob escaped my throat. “I didn't even know what to say,” I admitted, clutching the fabric of her shirt. “I didn't know how to feel. They died here, Kim. They died because of this place, and now I'm here, doing the same thing they were.”

Kim pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands gripping my shoulders. Her eyes were glassy now, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You're not doing the same thing,” she said firmly. “You're not. You're here to figure this out. To make sense of all of it.”

I wanted to believe her, but the ache in my chest wouldn’t let me. “But what if I’m making the same mistake?”

Kim didn't answer right away. Instead, she guided me to the bed and sat down beside me, her hand still gripping mine. “Do you know what your parents would say if they saw you right now?”

I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.

“They’d say they’re proud of you,” she smiled. “Because you're here, doing something important. Something brave. Just like them. They wanted to study the algae so it could cure sicknesses, diseases for which there was no cure. You’re here for the same reason. And yeah, maybe it’s terrifying as hell, but you're not alone. You have me. You have Jamie. Even Trevor, though he's mostly good for complaining. And you’ve got Jonathan, who seems to take a fancy to you.” She smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ugh...” I muttered, my voice laced with disgust.

She raised an eyebrow but kept going. “And honestly? You’re the toughest person I know.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, a lump forming in my throat. It wasn’t just grief this time. It was gratitude. I squeezed her hand, a tear slipping down my cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Bullshit,” she replied immediately, her tone teasing but warm. “You'd do the same for me. You have done the same for me, a million times.”

She stood and moved to the small cabinet near the bed. After rummaging for a moment, she pulled out a bottle of vodka and two mismatched glasses.

“I know this isn't exactly grief counseling,” she said, pouring generously, “but it's what I've got.”

I let out a watery laugh, taking the glass she offered. “It's perfect.”

We clinked our glasses together in a mock toast before downing the vodka in one go. It burned on the way down, but it steadied me somehow.

Kim poured another round, and we sat there, leaning against the headboard, the silence between us comfortable now. She started telling me about her first disastrous field assignment, how she'd fallen into a tide pool while trying to impress her professor. I laughed, the sound surprising me with how normal it felt.

“See?” she said, smiling. “You're already feeling better.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling back. “You're a terrible therapist.”

“Yeah, but I'm a great friend,” she said, nudging my shoulder.

For a while, we just sat there, trading stories and sipping vodka until the bottle was nearly empty. Kim's presence, her easy humor and steady warmth, made the grief a little easier to bear.

The door opened suddenly, and Jamie stepped in, his gaze moving between us and the half-empty bottle on the floor. “What's going on here?” he asked, looking clearly amused.

“Girls' night,” Kim replied smoothly, raising her glass.

I stood quickly, brushing off my pants. “We were just... talking,” I said. The air felt tighter now, like Jamie's presence had shifted something unspoken in the room. “I need some air,” I added, grabbing my coat.

“Pearl-“ Kim started, but I waved her off.

“I'm fine. Really. I'll be back soon.”

It hurt to see Jamie there. I didn't have feelings for him anymore - but still. It was a hollow kind of ache, one I didn't want to examine too closely. Seeing him standing there, so casual, so unbothered, made the room feel too small, too stifling.

I needed to get out of there.

The door closed behind me, muffling the low murmur of their voices. I exhaled slowly, letting the ice cold air fill my lungs. It was bracing, sharp against my flushed cheeks. My steps carried me toward the beach without thinking, the path familiar even in the dark. My thoughts kept going back to the graves , my parents, buried in a place I barely knew, surrounded by strangers. Tanya's words echoed in my mind, her calm voice hiding something I couldn't put my finger on.

“Let us rest. Take your team and leave.”

I hugged myself, trying to shake off the heavy feeling. But the harder I tried, the more my mind drifted to Amanda. Tanya had said she was sick, unstable, but the way Amanda had grabbed my wrist, her voice low and desperate - it didn't seem like madness. It felt real.

I let out a sharp breath, the sound disappearing into the waves. Tanya was lying - I was sure of it. Her smooth explanations couldn't cover the truth. And Amanda... Amanda was proof of that.

Tanya had lied. I was sure of it now. There was more to this place, to my parents' deaths, to Amanda, and Tanya was hiding it all behind a veil of half-truths and warnings.

I was so lost in thought I almost didn't notice him.

Sebastian stood at the water's edge. His silhouette was dark against the ocean. He didn't move. His shoulders slouched like he was carrying something too heavy to bear.

I hesitated for a moment, but the way he stood pulled me forward.

“Sebastian,” I called softly.

He turned slowly. His face was pale in the moonlight. I could see dried streaks of tears on his cheeks. His eyes, red and tired, met mine.

“She wasn't always like this,” he said, shaking his head.

I knew this wasn't going to be a simple conversation. I stayed quiet, letting him find his words. The waves crashed in a steady rhythm, and salt spray clung to my skin, sharp and cold.

“She's my older sister,” he said after a pause. His voice barely rose above the sound of the ocean. He kicked a piece of driftwood, his boots sinking into the wet sand. “When she was young, she got sick. Cancer.” He looked down, his hands shaking as he pulled them from his pockets. He started tracing circles in the sand with his fingers. “My dad... he couldn't accept it. He was desperate to save her.”

The wind picked up, stinging my face as it whipped my hair into my eyes. A seagull screeched, circling overhead before diving into the water.

Sebastian stared at the waves. “My dad made sacrifices. He went deeper into the ocean than anyone dared. He did things no one should have to do. He risked everything. All to get the algae. All to save Amanda.”

He stopped talking, his face tightening like the memory hurt too much to share. I watched him, my chest heavy with something I couldn't name. I didn't know his father, but I could picture him - a man pushing past every limit, desperate to save his daughter.

I hugged myself, the cold seeming to seep right into my chest. “So... the algae healed her?” My voice came out small.

“It did,” Sebastian said. His face twisted, his jaw clenching. “The cancer was gone in weeks. But it took something else from her. A part of her.” He paused, shaking his head. “I don't know if it was her soul or something else, but it's like it ate her bit by bit.” He kicked a shell, sending it tumbling down the sand. “Now she can't go out in the light. She can't be in the sun. She's been like this for twenty-five years. Trapped in a darkness she can't escape.”

His words hit me hard. My chest tightened as I tried to take it all in. “Twenty-five years?” I asked quietly. “But she looks...”

“Young?” His laugh was harsh and bitter. “She hasn't aged since she was a kid. Since after she took the algae. She's frozen. Stuck. And it's driving her mad.”

He stared at the water, his breath visible in the chilly air. “When I was born, Amanda was twelve. She raised me. Loved me. But I grew up, and she didn’t. Everything changed. Suddenly, I was the one looking after her.” He swallowed hard. “She hates me for it. She hates needing me.”

The wind whipped past us, carrying the salty, rotting tang of seaweed. The waves crashed relentlessly, loud in the quiet night. A fog was rolling in. I reached out and rested my hand on his arm. His jacket was damp, and his muscles were tense beneath it.

“You're doing the best you can,” I said gently. “You're trying to help her.”

Sebastian turned to me, tears clinging to his lashes, his face wet with salt spray and grief. His eyes looked stormy now, the blue clouded with something darker. “At what cost, Pearl?” his voice cracked as he let out those words. “She's trapped. During the daytime, I hear her scratching at the walls of her room. Crying. Begging me to let her die.”

I couldn't speak. His words settled over me like a heavy weight.

Sebastian wiped his face with his sleeve, his breath shaky as he straightened. “There's something else,” he said, his hand brushing mine. His calloused fingers were warm. “I need to show you something.”

He led me along the beach, the path narrowing as the fog thickened. I kept my eyes on the uneven ground, careful not to trip. The sky was starting to lighten, a dull gray glow hanging over the cliffs. The fog was thicker here, wrapping around us like it had weight.

Sebastian stopped in front of a cave, half-hidden behind moss and thick vines. The entrance was dark and uninviting.

“Here,” he said and his voice echoing faintly in the stillness. “This is where it all began.”

The cave loomed before us, its dark entrance like an open mouth waiting to swallow us whole. Sebastian stepped inside first, his flashlight cutting through the gloom. I hesitated at the threshold, the air colder here, damp and heavy. It smelled of wet stone and something faintly metallic, like old blood.

“Come on,” Sebastian urged. “You gotta see this.”

I swallowed hard and followed, flicking on my phone’s flashlight. Our beams cut through the shadows, lighting up the slick walls. Water dripped somewhere, each drop landing with a sharp, steady tap. The deeper we went, the tighter the air seemed to squeeze in.

Sebastian stopped, his light catching strange markings on the wall. The script curled and twisted, the edges softened by time.

I leaned closer. “What language is this?”

He traced the letters, brow furrowed. “Proto-Norse. My grandfather taught me a little. It’s older than Icelandic, almost forgotten. Only a few of us still know how to read it.”

His words landed hard, pressing into my chest. These weren’t just carvings; they were warnings left for anyone who dared follow.

Sebastian’s light shifted downward, landing on a long, coiled shape etched into the stone. The details made my skin crawl, each scale, each hollow eye socket.

“That’s the Vurrax. It wraps around you and squeezes. You won’t see it coming in the dark.”

We moved further in. His beam swept across another figure, sleek, overlapping scales that seemed to shimmer when we moved.

“The Silvershrike,” he went on, voice low. “Reflects light. Messes with your head. Makes you see things that aren’t there.”

A faint noise echoed from deeper in the cave. I jerked my light around, heart hammering. Nothing but shadows.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. His light found another carving, thin, stretched limbs, almost human but wrong.

“The Drowner’s Hand. It hides in algae beds. Looks like someone reaching for help... until it grabs you.”

I clenched my jaw, my stomach twisting. My light caught the last carving, and a cold dread settled in my bones. A skeletal figure stared back, mouth frozen in a silent scream.

Sebastian’s fingers curled around the flashlight. “The Sirenshade. It calls to you, sounds like someone you love. The more fear it senses, the stronger it gets.”

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. The cave felt like it was holding its breath, and suddenly, so was I.

“Why are these here?” My voice echoed slightly in the stillness, louder than I intended. “Who made them?”

Sebastian didn't look at me. His flashlight stayed fixed on the carvings, moving slowly over each deliberate mark. “No one knows for sure,” he said after a moment. “Some villagers believe ancient people lived here long before Sarkivik. They worshipped the ocean - the Abyss - and everything in it. My people think these carvings were left behind to warn anyone who came after them.”

“Worshipped the ocean?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief. The idea sounded almost ridiculous. “You're saying they believed in some kind of... Sea God?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying,” Sebastian replied. His beam lingered on a particularly jagged carving. “To them, the Abyss wasn't just water. It was alive. Something they couldn't control. Something they feared.”

I turned my light back to the wall, studying the sharp lines and unsettling shapes carved into the stone. The detail was too intricate, too purposeful to feel random. Whoever had made these had seen something - or believed they had.

“How does anyone know these aren't just myths?” I asked as doubt crept into my tone. “You're talking like this is fact.”

Sebastian moved his light to the next carvings. “Because the Abyss doesn't leave room for myths. People here still feel it. They see things no one can explain. Look at Amanda. My sister hasn't aged in twenty-five years. How do you explain that?”

I stayed silent, my grip tightening on the flashlight.

“This ocean holds secrets, Pearl,” he continued. “The algae might be one of them, but it's not the only one. Far more dangerous things hide out there. Sailors have disappeared into these waters for centuries. Entire ships.”

His words felt too big, too impossible. I couldn't look away from the carvings, their silent warnings carved deep into the walls.

At the farthest edge of the wall, I noticed something else. Sebastian hadn't pointed it out, but my light found it on its own. This carving wasn't like the others. It wasn't a creature. It didn't have a body. It was a shifting cloud, jagged and uneven, its edges blurring into the stone. The only clear part was the eyes, pitch black, deep and endless.

The eyes stared back at me, carved with such detail that they almost felt alive. My breath hitched. My chest tightened. Those eyes. I’d seen them before.

In my dreams.

My knees went weak. Recognition hit me all at once, crashing down like a wave.

Sebastian’s voice cut through my panic. “That’s the Abyss,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “The master of the oceans and the master of those creatures.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t look away. The eyes, they were the same. Dark, endless, staring back at me. The ones that had pulled me down into the abyss, swallowed me whole.

Suddenly, Sebastian grabbed my arm. “We need to go.” His flashlight flickered in the dark. “The tide’s coming in. This place floods.”

I didn’t fight him. We rushed, our footsteps splashing through shallow puddles on the cave floor. The air grew heavier with every step, like the walls were closing in on me.

When we finally stepped outside, the sun had risen, the light chasing away the shadows. But those eyes ,dark, endless, and alive ,stayed with me. And I knew they weren’t done watching.