The salt air clung to my skin like a whisper I couldn’t escape. I was halfway down the narrow wooden trail that connected the cliffside to the hidden cove when my sandal slipped on the slick planks.
“Ahh!” I gasped, flailing as the world tilted sideways.
The crashing roar of waves below surged into my ears, and for one breathless second, I was sure I was going to fall. My heart jolted, camera swinging wildly against my chest—until a strong hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me back against a solid chest.
The shock of it knocked the air from me.
“Careful,” a low voice murmured, rough as gravel but somehow steadying.
Kael.
The same man from yesterday—the stranger with the unreadable eyes and that unnerving way of looking at me, as if he already knew me. His grip was firm, almost too firm, and heat shot up my arm where his hand held me.
I blinked up at him, breath uneven. “You—again?”
His jaw tightened. For a moment he didn’t answer, just stared down at me like he was searching for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. Then, finally—
“You should watch your step. This path isn’t forgiving.” His words were clipped, but there was something else beneath them—something like… worry?
I tugged my wrist free, even though a strange part of me didn’t want to. “I was doing fine until you appeared out of nowhere.”
He gave a soft, humorless scoff. “You call nearly falling into the ocean fine?”
The tension between us pressed as heavy as the humid air. I crossed my arms, defensive. “Why are you even here? Following me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes—God, those eyes—flicked briefly to the camera strapped to me, then back to my face. “You don’t belong wandering alone in places you don’t understand.”
Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle. Not just because it sounded protective, but because it carried an edge—like a warning.
I swallowed, trying to steady myself. “I’m not some lost tourist. I’m working.”
His gaze lingered, unreadable. “And what exactly are you working on?”
“Well, in case you dyknow yet, I’m a travel vlogger,” I said quickly, almost defensively, lifting my camera slightly. “Exploring, filming, sharing stories. That’s what I do.”
Kael’s expression didn’t change, but I swore his jaw tightened. “Stories have a way of pulling you deeper than you intend,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Sometimes too deep.”
For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the crash of waves below.
Why did his words feel like more than just advice?
I shook my head, forcing a laugh that came out thinner than I intended. “You’re really dramatic, you know that? I almost fell, sure, but it’s not like I was about to drown.”
“Do you really think the sea here lets go that easily?” His eyes darkened, and for the briefest second, something flickered in them—a shadow, a secret.
My chest tightened. Déjà vu swept over me again, strong and suffocating. It was the same feeling I had yesterday when I first saw him: that strange, inexplicable sense of familiarity, like I’d known him in another life. Like this exact moment had already happened.
“Do I…” My voice faltered. I swallowed. “Do I know you?”
That broke through his mask. For a fraction of a second, his features softened, almost pained. Then, just as quickly, he turned away, staring out at the sea.
“No,” he said, clipped. “You don’t.”
But the hesitation in his tone told a different story.
I studied him, the lines of his face shadowed by the late afternoon sun. The wind tugged at his shirt, his hair, but he stood unmoving, like part of the landscape itself.
“Then why…” I whispered, more to myself than him. “…why does it feel like I do?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped past me, heading further down the path toward the cove.
“Wait!” I hurried after him, my sandals slipping slightly again. “You can’t just—”
“Do what you came to do,” he cut in without looking back. “But stay away from the cliff’s edge. And… stay away from the water at night.”
I froze. “Why?”
He finally glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking with mine. For a moment, I thought I saw fire there—or maybe it was just the reflection of the sun bleeding into the horizon.
“Because not everything in Bacnotania sleeps when the sun goes down.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
Before I could ask more, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the path ahead, leaving me standing there with my camera, my pounding heart, and a million questions.
That night, I replayed the moment in my head on a loop. His words. His stare. The way my body still buzzed where he’d grabbed me.
I was supposed to be editing my footage, but every time I pressed play, all I could hear was his voice. Stay away from the water at night.
But why?
I paced my villa balcony, restless, the moonlight spilling silver across the waves below.
And then—
A sound.
Faint, almost drowned out by the surf. A whispering hum, melodic yet strange. Like a lullaby carried on the wind.
I grabbed my camera instinctively and hit record, pointing it out toward the sea.
The sound grew clearer—rising, falling, haunting. Not like any song I’d ever heard, yet so achingly familiar my chest hurt.
I leaned over the railing, heart hammering. The waves shimmered under the moonlight, almost glowing. And there—just for an instant—I thought I saw something move beneath the surface. A figure.
The humming stopped.
The sea went still.
And then—
A voice. Right behind me.
“Didn’t I tell you not to come near the water at night?”
I spun, camera jerking in my hands. Kael stood there, shadows clinging to him, eyes burning like they held the secrets of the ocean itself.
