WATER SPLASH : MERMAID ADVENTURE

QUEEN MARABELLA ISLAND(9)

CHAPTER NINE

The group exchanged brief looks, the decision unspoken but shared. Annalise was already slipping her shoes back on, muttering about not wasting time.

“Alright then,” Elina said, grabbing a flashlight from the speedboat. “We stick together, stay close, and if anyone sees even a flicker of signal, shout.”

They left the boats behind, climbing the slight incline that led toward the trees. The sand gave way to coarse grass, then to uneven rock underfoot. The air grew cooler beneath the canopy, thick with the scent of salt and something damp, almost metallic.

Monica pointed out seashells wedged in the roots of a tree, their ridges glinting pale in the last scraps of sunlight. Annalise, more focused, kept her eyes on the slope ahead. Elina walked in the lead, steady as if she knew the land already.

Clara lingered at the back, her steps slow. She tried to focus on the orange sky above the treetops, the faint sound of waves breaking below, but every shadow felt alive, every gust of wind a whisper against her neck. She couldn’t shake the sensation that something was watching from deeper in the island.

Miranda slowed beside her. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Clara forced a nod, though her lips stayed pressed tight.

Up ahead, Beyoncé lifted her phone with sudden hope. “Two bars…wait…” The signal flickered and vanished.

“Keep moving,” Elina said firmly. “Higher ground. It has to come back.”

The group split into pairs, fanning out across the uneven ground with their phones raised, eyes flicking constantly between their screens and the trees around them.

Clara walked a little behind Miranda, her shoes crunching against brittle leaves. They hadn’t spoken for several minutes when Miranda’s voice slipped into the silence, softer than a thought. “What if… the folklore is true?”

Clara’s head turned sharply, curiosity flashing in her eyes despite the unease tightening her chest. “Folklore?” she asked, her voice barely above the whisper of the wind.

Miranda hesitated, then leaned closer, speaking low, as though the trees themselves might be listening. “There’s an old story,” she began, her tone carrying a strange weight. “They say every March 16th, no one should work at the port or sail on Oceania. It’s… cursed. A punishment for what was done centuries ago, a woman and a crown prince, wrongly accused, executed right there on the port.”

Her eyes flicked toward the darkening sky before continuing. “Some believe the Festival of Still Waters was born from that day. Not a celebration, really… more of an appeasement. A way to calm Oceania’s wrath. The elders used to speak of it, but most are long gone. Now people just… dance, drink, and forget why it began.”

The words crawled over Clara’s skin. A chill spread through her chest as flashes of her dreams, unfamiliar faces, a crown, the crashing of waves forced their way back into her mind. She gasped, tugging at her hoodie zipper as if air itself had thinned.

“Hey…are you alright?” Miranda’s voice sharpened with concern.

Clara nodded quickly, though her trembling hands betrayed her. “Y-yes. I’m fine.”

Miranda’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have…”

Clara shook her head, guilt clouding her face.

Miranda eased her onto a nearby boulder, resting a steadying hand on her back until her breathing slowed.

“Thank you,” Clara whispered at last, her voice weak but sincere.

Miranda’s gaze lingered on her. “It’s obvious you’re not fine. But listen… we’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”

Clara swallowed hard and nodded, her words spilling out heavy with regret. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t gone to the port alone, if I’d just stayed with my friends at training…”

“No,” Miranda interrupted gently, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “This isn’t your fault. It’s chance. Nothing more.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Beyoncé wanted to go shopping, but I… I wanted something different. An adventure. Especially here. I’ve read about this island for years, the history, the legends. When I realized the port would be empty, I…” Her voice dropped lower, sheepish. “I took my dad’s speedboat. Stupid, I know. And now, standing here, well it does make the folklore feel a little too real.”

She gave a short, nervous laugh before adding, “Meanwhile, Beyoncé’s biggest concern was whether she packed enough sunscreen.”

The tension cracked. Clara let out a small laugh, shaky but genuine.

But when their eyes met again, the laughter faded. Both of them paused, struck by the same sudden, unshakable feeling, familiarity. As though they had known each other once before, in some place neither of them could name.

Miranda blinked, clearing her throat. “Come on,” she said quickly, brushing sand from her hands. “Let’s catch up with the others before they think we vanished.”

Clara followed, but the echo of that strange recognition lingered, gnawing at her as much as the story had.

Beyoncé and Monica stuck together, walking along a path lined with tall palms and thick greenery. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and wildflowers, their shadows stretching long as the sun began to dip. Beyoncé had her phone out, tilting it this way and that to capture the moment.

“This place might be creepy,” she said, flipping her hair as the camera caught her good side, “but it gives tropical vibes. Perfect for my CamChat streaks.” She grinned and angled for a selfie.

Monica shook her head, lips twitching with amusement. “You love nature.”

“Of course! I’m a fashion and nature influencer. Every moment is content.” Beyoncé suddenly froze, her phone snapping up. “Oh my gosh…was that a squirrel? So cute!”

Monica squinted in the direction Beyoncé pointed, but all she saw were shifting shadows between the trees. “I don’t see it. Whatever it is, let’s keep moving before it gets dark.”

But Beyoncé had already leaned against a tree, posing in front of the jagged bark as if it were a studio backdrop. Monica sighed, exasperated, but her laughter slipped out when Beyoncé tugged her into the frame.

“Fine,” Monica relented, rolling her eyes as she posed half-seriously. “But this better go viral.”

Meanwhile, Annalise and Elina picked their way through a rocky stretch deeper inland, where thick ferns pushed up between stones and vines dangled like ropes from the trees above. The air here felt heavier, muffling the distant crash of waves.

Elina lifted her phone high, walking slowly as she scanned the screen. “Still nothing. Not even a single bar.”

Annalise, crouched to examine the jagged rocks at her feet, straightened and looked around with narrowed eyes. “You’d think higher ground would help. But it’s like this place eats the signal before it even reaches us.”

Annalise gave a short, humorless laugh. “Figures. Zayan drags me into messes even when he’s not here.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket with more force than necessary.

Elina smirked, brushing dirt from her hands. “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect that. You know what he’s like, always two steps ahead, but never where you want him to be.”

“Yeah,” Annalise muttered, jaw tight. “Tricky as ever. If he messed with the engine just to prove a point…” She let the thought die, shaking her head.

Silence settled between them for a beat. The rustling of leaves overhead sounded louder than it should. Annalise crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on the tangled shadows of the treeline. “This place gives me the creeps. Like we’re being watched.”

Elina’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t argue.

Clara and Miranda searched near a dense cluster of trees, their footsteps muffled by damp leaves. Suddenly, Clara froze. Her eyes widened as though she’d brushed against something invisible.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered, voice tight.

Miranda tilted her head. “Hear what?”

Clara’s hand lifted shakily, pointing toward the dark mouth of a cave half-hidden behind vines. “Whispers. From there.”

Miranda followed her gaze, brow furrowing. The cave sat silent, shadows pooling at its entrance. “Clara… there’s nothing.”

But Clara’s pulse hammered in her ears. The whispers grew clearer, like voices calling her name, curling through the air. She took a hesitant step forward, her shoes crunching lightly on gravel.

“Clara, wait!” Miranda’s voice caught, but she followed anyway, unwilling to let her go alone.

Just then, Miranda’s phone buzzed violently in her hand. She gasped, staring at the glowing screen. “Signal! I’ve actually got a signal!”

Back across the trees, Annalise and Elina stumbled upon Beyoncé and Monica, lounging beneath a wide-branched tree. Beyoncé was grinning at her phone, holding it out at arm’s length.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Annalise snapped. “We’re out here trying to get us off this island, and you’re what posing for CamChat?”

Beyoncé smirked, unbothered. “Content never sleeps, sweetheart. If we’re stuck in a nightmare, I might as well make it look good.”

“She’s not wrong,” Monica said with a half-laugh, nudging Beyoncé. “Besides, we weren’t far. We’d have heard if something happened.”

Before Annalise could bite back, Miranda’s voice rang out, urgent and sharp.

“Guys! Over here…I’ve got a signal!”

Relief jolted through the group. Phones came up instantly, everyone stumbling toward Miranda’s voice. Buzzes and pings of notifications echoed like lifelines.

Monica glanced around, her smile faltering. “Wait… where’s Clara?”

Miranda whipped her head toward the group, breath-catching. Her stomach dropped. Clara wasn’t beside her anymore.

The cave entrance gaped in the distance, dark and waiting.