The sea was calm, but Kaito's heart was not. He stood at the edge of the crumbling dock, eyes scanning the dark water. The stolen coordinates he had found in his father's journal had brought him here—to the place where the whispers claimed the ocean buried its secrets.
A fog hung low over the waves. Behind him, Rei and Hana waited by the boat, unsure of what they'd find. None of them spoke; the silence between them was heavy, weighed down by the truth they were chasing.
Earlier that day, they had cracked open a rusted safe Kaito found in the hidden crawlspace of the family home. Inside, there had been a second journal, much older, water-damaged and stained with ink that had bled with salt. It spoke of The Siren Protocol—a project Kaito's father had worked on years ago. A secret military operation, cloaked under research funding, designed to create human-oceanic hybrids capable of deep-sea survival and espionage.
The last entry chilled Kaito:
"Subject-7 was a success. But she wasn't ready. Not emotionally. Not morally. We were wrong to continue. I had to let her go. I only hope she finds peace before they find her."
Subject-7. That was Kaito's mother.
He clutched the journal to his chest. His father hadn't died in an accident—he'd been silenced.
"We're close," Kaito finally said. He turned to his friends. "You don't have to come with me."
Rei stepped forward. "We're already in it. Let's end this together."
Hana gave a small nod. "We owe it to your parents. And maybe to the others."
Together, they climbed into the small boat and headed toward the coordinates. As they drew near, the sonar pinged faintly—then erratically. The signal was bouncing off something large beneath the surface. Something man-made.
Then they saw it.
Rising from the ocean floor like a shadow out of time was a dome. Faded lights blinked dimly around its edges. It had been a research lab once—now, it was a crypt of silence. Kaito dove in first, following the tether they had secured. The water welcomed him like a memory.
Inside the dome, the walls were lined with broken tanks and control panels. And then they found the message, scrawled in seaweed ink across the wall in a human hand:
"They made monsters. But I became the storm."
The temperature dropped. Behind them, something moved.
Then a voice, soft and sharp, cut through the silence. "Kaito."
He turned slowly.
Floating in the water, pale eyes glowing faintly, was a woman. She had gills. Silver hair drifted like silk around her face. And though decades had passed, he recognized her from the photo hidden in the locket his father gave him.
His mother.