The dark shadow came into the light.
It was long. Thin. A predator, I think.
Which was… completely safe. Totally fine.
It was eyeing the fish living their good lives, teeth gleaming like a reaper's scythe.
And I thought, It's just going to say hi. No big deal.
That is, of course, until a little voice started speaking in my head:
No, Damien. It actually isn't a good thing. It's not safe at all.
I guess a small part of me had stayed sane.
But my mind was fighting against it—like a game of swords.
One clashing against the other.
Giving me a headache.
But look at them! Look at it! It's fine, I think!
Clash.
Damian? I would advise you to put your head above the water.
But I didn't want to.
It felt like I was being scolded by a parent.
The shark was getting closer.
Its eyes wide.
Its mouth open.
Damian!
I realized the danger just in time and screamed, "Run!"
But it sounded more like a warbled wheeze.
All the fish turned to look at me.
Even the shark.
The fish looked up, saw what I saw, and then casually swam back into their homes.
The shark?
Not so casual. Not so happy.
I gulped.
"Uh—hi. Um. I'm Damien. And, dear God, please don't eat me. I—I don't even have any food! I don't taste good! I promise!"
But the shark didn't care.
It came for me.
I saw my death coming—rows of teeth, wide-open jaw—and then, something yanked me up. Hard.
The shark only got a piece of my hair.
"Oh thank God," a voice said.
I turned to the other side of the boat.
And there—standing on the water—was a boy.
He looked about my age. Fifteen, maybe.
Black hair. Wet white shirt. Green eyes.
My heart was going a mile a minute.
"Nice to meet you," I said, panting. "I'm Damien."
"Damien, are you an idiot?"
"Oh! You know me already."
"Oh boy," the kid muttered, shaking his head. "Look, I saved your life, okay?"
I smiled ear to ear.
"You did? Oh, thank you so much—"
"Damian? If you touch that water again, I will slap you."
I backed away.
He was a little abrasive.
"Well, that's not nice," I said, still not putting two and two together.
"Look, Damien. Really look at me, okay? Because otherwise, I can't help you anymore."
"And why not?"
But I looked.
Really looked.
His black hair, trimmed.
His green eyes.
His voice.
His face.
It looked just like someone.
It was on the tip of my tongue.
"Hey, um, just out of curiosity… where are you from?"
The boy grinned.
"I'm from Silent Bell. Just like you, I take it?"
Of course.
I was looking at my reflection.
I gasped and sat up.
Back in the boat. Soaked. Shivering.
I took a deep breath.
"I'm back."
⸻
I lay on my back, staring up at the blue sky.
That had changed too.
My stomach howled like a wolf.
"Look, I know. I know you want food. But I don't have any."
God, I really hated myself.
And look at what it's doing to me—I nearly got my head bit off by a shark, for God's sake.
Time passed. Slowly. Quietly.
And then it started to seep in—boredom and pain, like a virus trickling through my bones.
"Gods above… what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Almost like I'd said some kind of magic word, my hands started to warm.
I looked down—and froze.
They were glowing. A soft, celestial yellow.
Yellowish white. Like starlight, humming under my skin.
I stared, mystified.
It didn't hurt. It was calming, actually. But this?
This was not normal.
So I did what any genius would do: I stuck my hands in the water to try and extinguish it.
That was a mistake.
Instead of fading, the water began to bubble. Foam rose around my fingertips.
Honestly? My hands looked like two eels having a great time at a pool party.
I yanked them back up, shaking.
And looked to the sky.
"Mother," I whispered—to The Mother, one of our goddesses.
"If you see me now… please help me. Because I don't know what's—"
Whoa.
From each of my fingers, light shot upward—trailing through the sky, arcing over my little dinghy. The strands circled above me, forming a bright white ring.
Then they flew higher. Twisting. Spinning. Tangling together like a ball of yarn.
A second sun bloomed above me.
I slammed my eyes shut.
I am not going blind today, thank you very much.
And then—
Thud.
Right on my—
Yeah. You know where.
"Ow."
My left hand reached up and grabbed something weird. Something long, with the neck of a giraffe and wires running down it.
My right hand brushed against a small, taut drum.
And then the light vanished.
All that was left… was what I held.
A banjo.
I stared.
I've heard legends—whispers—about this kind of thing.
Instruments.
Real ones.
Powerful ones.
Fear gripped me.
Cold and sudden.
Like Death was waiting just on the other side of the boat.