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“Moonshadow Drop?” My brow furrows in worry, the name echoing with unease. I’m troubled by the thought that our intensely protected secret passage might have been compromised. Such a breach would be impossible without the aid of magic, yet the annals of history are filled with tales of relentless mortals who have sought to unravel its mysteries.
As Tempest and her pod glide through the water, pursuing a fresh trail, they emphasize their earlier point with renewed urgency. “This was different, Egon,” they convey with a sense of significance, their voices harmonizing through the aquatic depths. “It’s something special,” they reiterate, hinting at the extraordinary nature of the disturbance that now beckons me toward Moonshadow Drop.
“How special?”
chapter four
As I ready myself for a much-needed rest, eager to close the chapter on this lengthy evening, I delve into my bag, seeking the peculiar comfort of one of Amara’s filthy novels. I recall earmarking several passages that, in their own wicked way, never fail to lift my spirits.
While methodically brushing my teeth, my mind drifts to the agenda for the following day. I’m particularly drawn to exploring the running path on the upper deck, an enticing prospect, especially after indulging in tonight’s enormous feast. A brisk morning run is the perfect way to counterbalance the calorie surplus and secures the top spot on my to-do list. Tomorrow’s meal will surely be just as decadent, and I’d like to prevent these extra calories from comfortably settling on my hips.
Chuckling to myself, I survey the collection of novels I’ve brought along, each title promising its own brand of escape. The Witch’s Warlock initially catches my eye. It seems innocent enough until you discover the witch has a penchant for enchanting particular parts of the warlock’s anatomy. While it’s a cherished favorite of mine, tonight, I crave something with a bit more zest. The Cowboy’s Harlot? No, that might be too racy for my current mood. The Mobster’s Fake Wife carries too much darkness for tonight. My gaze finally settles on the ideal choice for this moment, Arranged to the Merman, a story I’ve delighted in numerous times over the past few weeks. It’s an over-the-top novella short enough to read before bed that always leaves me breathless. I was still under its spell when I agreed to join Alina and Alice on this cruise. After selecting the perfect book, The Astronaut’s Rocket, I fling it onto the bed, its pages fluttering slightly, before heading into the bathroom to finish my nightly routine.
Before nestling into bed and snuggling under the soft embrace of the covers, I take a moment to enhance the ambiance of my mundane room. Moving swiftly, I walk over to the sliding doors of the small balcony and briskly draw back the heavy curtains. This simple act invites the moon’s tender luminescence into the room. The moon is full and commanding tonight, with the earlier veil of clouds now dispersed, revealing clearer views of the shimmering ocean below. The mesmerizing sight captures my breath, turning an ordinary moment into something magical.
“Nerissa…” The ethereal melody resurfaces, now with increased volume and urgency, resonating like a desperate plea.
Compelled by curiosity and a tinge of concern, I disregard my initial reservations and glide the balcony door open to peer into the night, questioning the state of my sanity. Could one of the girls need assistance, or is my mind playing tricks? The sound doesn’t appear to come from the adjoining walls of my room, yet the champagne’s effects might still cloud my judgment, blurring my ability to discern the sound’s origin.
Bathed in the luminous glow of the full moon, my vision sharpens, revealing a figure moving through the water below. Drawn by the need to see more clearly, I approach the balcony railing, gripping the cold steel to stabilize myself. The floor beneath is wet and treacherous, yet my bare feet find enough traction to edge forward cautiously. Leaning out slightly, I squint, focusing intently to make out the solitary figure that has captivated my attention.
“Nerissa…” The voice beckons once more, its tone more compelling, luring me closer with its celestial melody.
A wave of panic surges through me, causing my grip on the railing to tighten as I desperately try to retreat. My muscles coil in a frantic attempt to flee to the sanctity of my room, yet I’m ensnared by an unseen force, an ethereal bind that paralyzes my movements, holding me captive on the brink of the unknown.
Time transforms into an endless stretch, each minute expanding into what feels like an eternity as I gaze into the abyss below, engulfed by profound vulnerability and an abrupt loss of movement. My legs refuse to obey, my eyes won’t blink, and my throat can’t muster a cry for aid. Immobile, I am ensnared in silence, incapable of uttering a sound or retreating to safety. Desperately, my lips part once more as I try to summon Alina to her balcony, clinging to the hope of a rational explanation for my paralysis. Perhaps if someone spots me in distress, they can call for help.
Without warning, the invisible grip that had me bound loosens, and for a moment, I allow myself to believe there must be a rational explanation behind my ordeal. Convinced that I must be deep in slumber, experiencing a vivid dream spurred by the day’s events on the upper deck, I find a semblance of peace. It’s the only explanation that seems sensible enough to consider. With this reassurance, I move back toward my room, relief washing over me in waves, soothed by the thought of soon awakening in the comfort of my bed, ready to recount this bizarre episode with lighthearted laughter.
But that doesn’t happen.
As I am about to cross the threshold into my room, an unexpected force propels me violently toward the railing. My feet scramble, splaying out in a desperate attempt to find footing, before I collapse onto my knees, my elbow awkwardly positioned above my head. The sharp sting of pain cuts through the confusion, grounding me in the harsh reality that I am very much awake and the night’s oddities are far from over. Somehow, I manage to pull myself upright, trembling in the chill of the sea breeze, yet determined to reach the sanctuary of my room.
The eerie melody intrudes again, but my patience has worn thin, replaced by a growing irritation. “Nerissa…” the voice whispers again.
Exasperated, I retort, “Leave me alone.” I’ve had enough of these bizarre encounters and the mental toll they’re exacting. Clearly, something is amiss with me. Resigned, I dismiss the voices, awaiting the day when medical intervention might silence them for good.
“Nerissa…”
“Leave me alone. I’m tuning you out,” I mutter irritably, my voice cutting through the cold, damp night air. “I’m shivering, drenched, and exhausted. Whatever you have to say can wait until I’m cozily tucked in bed,” I grumble, freeing my elbow and gathering the strength to rise fully. Driven to escape the biting cold, I grasp the nearby metal chair, a makeshift anchor between the chilling outside and my room’s inviting warmth. Gripping it firmly, I lean against the plexiglass barrier, a thin but vital shield from the perilous drop beyond. With cautious, measured steps, I advance slowly, yet each small stride fills me with a sense of accomplishment. I pause, standing tall to inhale deeply, rallying my will to overcome the throbbing ache in my muscles as I press onward toward the haven of my room. And I almost make it.
A sudden, powerful surge catches me off guard, lifting me off my feet. My hands flail through the air, frantically seeking anything to grasp as stability evades me. Before I can regain my bearings, another violent jolt propels me toward the railing. Too shocked to scream, my heart races as the dark, expansive ocean rushes to meet me. The cold, moonlit sea looms large, its surface broken by cresting waves. With a breath-stealing impact, I plunge into the water, the shock of the cold enveloping me entirely as I disappear beneath the surface.
chapter five
Time becomes a blur as I tread water, adrift in the vast, boundless ocean with no land in sight. The endless sea stretches out all around me, enormous and unforgiving, as I struggle to maintain my bearings and hope. No one saw me fall, so no one could raise the alarm and prompt the crew to mount a rescue. In what seemed like moments, the cruise ship dwindled to a speck on the horizon and vanished entirely, leaving me swallowed by the vast ocean.
As the early morning hours tick by, exhaustion overwhelms me. Although I am an experienced swimmer, the human body isn’t designed to tread water indefinitely. The relentless effort is taking its toll, pushing the limits of my endurance. Having had an unusually large dinner just before my fall, I can manage without food for a few days, but water is different. My exhaustive efforts to stay afloat have not only drained my strength but also severely dehydrated me. As dawn approaches, I know the situation will become more dire. The rising sun will beat down mercilessly, its rays reflecting off the ocean’s surface, intensifying the heat and my desperation for even a few drops of drinkable water.
“How did I end up like this?” I mutter to myself, switching to float on my back in an effort to conserve what little energy remains. As I lie here, vulnerable and exposed, I brace for the inevitable. Perhaps a predator from the depths below, drawn to my scent, will decide to make me their meal for the day. What a horrible way to die.
I feel utterly helpless and hopeless. Throughout the evening, driven by delirium, I swam frantically in all four directions, each time deceiving myself into believing salvation lay just ahead. But now, it seems likely that my aimless exertions have merely circled me back to where I started, with no land in sight. As exhaustion creeps deeper into my muscles and bones, I realize that soon I may drift into sleep, never to wake again, sinking slowly into the depths of my watery grave.
I find myself yearning for my parents. I regret not waiting until summer to take a cruise with them, instead choosing to travel with my cousins Alice and Alina. While they are sweet girls, I realize it could be hours before they notice my absence and deduce what has happened. And when they do, the ship will be so far away from me that a successful search will be nearly impossible.
Things would undoubtedly be different if my mother were here. Her connection to me is so profound that she wouldn’t have needed to witness my fall—she likely would have felt my distress instinctively. I can almost see her, not hesitating for a second, calling the captain as she raced to my cabin. And if that weren’t enough, I have no doubt she would have plunged into the sea to rescue me. Mothers are like that.
As the hours meld into each other, I completely lose any sense of time. My waterproof watch gave out after being submerged for too long, and I’ve never been adept at reading the sun’s position to tell time. Despite the dire situation, I find a strange comfort in the brief company of various sea creatures. A gray whale lingered the longest, providing a much-needed respite for my weary arms as it let me cling to its side for a few precious moments. Later, a large pod of orcas approached. They seemed to size me up but evidently concluded I wasn’t worth the effort.
