That morning, Lirael woke up with ragged breaths, her forehead damp with sweat. The nightmare still clung vividly in her mind—explosions, blinding light, and the image of her mother disappearing into a fog.
Outside the cabin, there was a flurry of movement and faint cheers. Morning activities had begun. The men were preparing to fish, their hurried footsteps echoing across the wooden deck.
Rhea appeared at the door, her hair still a bit messy, holding a glass of water and some dry bread.
"I saw you were really restless last night, Lirael," Rhea said softly, sitting beside her bed. "Another nightmare?"
Lirael nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I dreamt about my mom again... like she was trying to talk to me. But every time I got close enough to hear her, everything vanished."
Rhea gently took Lirael's hand. "Maybe it's not just a dream. Maybe there's something left unfinished... and you're the one who has to find out what it is."
Not long after, Nyssa appeared from behind the door, her face bright in the cool morning air. "Hey, want to come? We're heading to the beach. Some of us are already up and getting breakfast ready," she said with a smile.
Rhea and Lirael glanced at each other, then nodded and got to their feet. They followed Nyssa across the ship's deck, descending the wooden steps onto the damp sand still touched by morning dew.
In the distance, Lirael spotted Veyra standing tall, drawing her bow and releasing an arrow straight at a wooden barrel set up as a target. A sharp sound rang out as the arrow hit dead center. A few people gave quiet cheers.
"She's pretty good," Rhea murmured, squinting her eyes.
Lirael looked around, then asked, "But… where's Serin? I haven't seen her at all this morning."
Nyssa frowned. "Yeah, I just realized. She should've been up with us."
Rhea shook her head slightly. "No one knows where she went?"
There was no answer. Suddenly, the morning air felt a little colder.
Out on the calm sea, two large wooden boats drifted slowly with the current. The morning air was still fresh, and the sunlight began to reflect off the silvery-blue surface of the water.
On the first boat, Riven sat at the edge with his legs dangling over the side, holding a fishing rod while yawning widely. Exter, sitting in the middle, checked the fishing net with a serious expression. Kael, on the opposite side, held a long spear, his eyes sharply focused on the shadows beneath the surface.
"It's so peaceful out here," Kael muttered. "But for some reason... I've got a bad feeling."
Riven replied lazily, "You always overthink things, Kael. It's just the ocean."
Exter hissed quietly, "Nothing's ever just anything anymore."
On the second boat, Elior was learning how to throw a fishing net from Mr. Tyson, who sat calmly at the rudder. Taren sat with arms crossed, staring out toward the horizon. Meanwhile, Peterson remained silent, his gaze scanning the waves, unreadable.
"You haven't said a word," Elior turned to Peterson. "Still thinking about Serin?"
Peterson didn't answer right away. He just pulled a cigarette from inside his jacket and glanced at Taren, who refused to make eye contact.
Mr. Tyson looked back at them. "If you two haven't finished whatever personal thing's going on, don't let it mess up the fishing. Focus. This isn't the place to daydream."
Taren gave a slight nod. Peterson stared at the water, murmuring under his breath, "Something doesn't feel right…"
Peterson and the others returned to shore, carrying their catch. Fresh fish in nets and buckets were unloaded one by one. The atmosphere was briefly warm—laughter, the salty sea air, and the rising sun.
Elsewhere, Lirael sat under a palm tree, still uneasy about Serin. She turned at the sound of hurried footsteps. Serin emerged from the brush, her usual innocent expression on her face, hair slightly wet, eyes calm.
"I just went for a walk up the hill," she said softly, sitting beside Lirael. "Sorry, I didn't tell anyone."
Lirael was about to respond, but—
BOOM!!!
A massive explosion tore through the air. Suddenly, the sky darkened under the shadow of a large aircraft flying low overhead. From its undercarriage, gunfire rained down in rapid bursts.
TATATATATA!
Bullets slammed into the boats and the wooden shelters they had been using for cover. Screams rang out. Flames erupted from one of the huts. Veyra quickly drew her bow and shouted to everyone, "GET DOWN! TAKE COVER!"
Peterson sprinted toward Lirael and Serin, shoving them behind a pile of sandbags. Taren ducked behind a boat, glancing toward Tyson who was already holding a long rifle.
"THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG DAY!" Riven shouted from a distance, his face flushed with dust and panic.
The once peaceful hideout had turned into a warzone in mere seconds.
Taren stumbled, a bullet piercing his left arm. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the pain as blood started soaking through his shirt.
"ARGHH!" he groaned, falling to his knees in the sand.
Peterson, not far away, immediately sprinted over without hesitation. Bullets whizzed overhead, sand and debris flying everywhere. He lifted Taren under the armpits and dragged him toward Lirael, who was hiding behind a sandbag with Serin and Rhea.
"LIRAEL! HELP!" Peterson shouted, panic flashing in his eyes despite his calm face.
Lirael quickly crouched down and helped hold Taren's body. "Put him here!" she said urgently. Rhea opened her emergency bag and pulled out some bandages.
"I hate you, but thanks," Taren muttered to Peterson with a pained yet sarcastic tone.
Peterson didn't reply. He just glanced at his brother once, then turned back, raising his pistol and staying alert.
Meanwhile, Lirael's hands trembled as she tried to stop the bleeding. Serin held onto Taren's shoulder.
"Hang in there, Taren. We're not leaving you behind," Lirael whispered. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed deep worry. The helicopter still circled above, ready for the next attack.