Chapter 3 - Episode 3: The Cave Beneath

🌊 Salt in the Wind Episode 3: The Cave Beneath

The tide was low by morning. Ren arrived early, boots laced tight, camera slung over his shoulder. Aleksy was already there, standing at the edge of the rocks, watching the waves retreat.

"You ready?" Aleksy asked without turning.

Ren nodded. "Let's find it."

They climbed down carefully, the rocks slick with sea spray. The cave mouth was narrow, half-hidden behind a jagged outcrop. Ren ducked inside first, flashlight in hand.

The air was damp and smelled of salt and stone. The walls were etched with time—scratches, initials, moss. Aleksy followed, his steps sure.

"This place feels older than both of us," Ren whispered.

Aleksy ran his fingers along the wall. "My grandmother said Aleksander used to come here to think. To hide."

Ren's light caught something—an old tin box, rusted but intact, wedged between two stones. He reached for it.

Aleksy knelt beside him. "Careful."

Ren pried it loose. Inside were folded papers, brittle with age. A photograph lay on top—two boys, one Japanese, one Polish, standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling.

Ren's breath caught. "That's Masaru and Aleksander."

Aleksy stared. "They look... happy."

Ren unfolded one of the papers. It was a letter, written in Polish. Aleksy read aloud:

"I don't know if this will reach you. But I need you to know—I didn't run. I was taken. They said I was a traitor. I never betrayed you."

Aleksy's voice faltered. "It's signed Aleksander."

Ren sat back, stunned. "He was imprisoned?"

Aleksy nodded slowly. "Or worse."

They read the rest in silence—fragments of a story lost to time. Letters never sent. Words never heard.

Ren looked at Aleksy. "This changes everything."

Aleksy folded the letter carefully. "It explains the silence. The disappearance. Maybe even the dreams."

Ren took a photo of the box, the letters, the cave. "We need to preserve this."

Aleksy stood. "We need to tell it."

They climbed back up, the box wrapped in Ren's jacket. At the lighthouse, they laid everything out on the table. Aleksy began translating the letters, one by one.

Ren watched him, fascinated. "You're good at this."

Aleksy shrugged. "It's my family's language. My blood."

Ren smiled. "It suits you."

Aleksy glanced at him. "You say things like that easily."

Ren leaned forward. "Only when they're true."

Aleksy looked away, but his ears flushed pink.

They worked late into the afternoon. The letters painted a picture of two boys caught in a storm of politics and war, trying to hold onto something pure.

Ren opened the journal again. "Masaru wrote: I saw him in the waves. Not his body—his memory. It shimmered like salt."

Aleksy whispered, "He never stopped looking."

Ren nodded. "Neither did you."

Aleksy met his gaze. "Maybe we were meant to."

That evening, they walked along the shore, the wind gentler now. Ren took photos—Aleksy silhouetted against the sunset, the cave entrance glowing faintly behind them.

Aleksy stopped. "Do you believe in fate?"

Ren considered. "I believe in choices. But sometimes, they feel guided."

Aleksy smiled faintly. "Like salt in the wind."

Ren laughed. "Exactly."

They sat on a driftwood log, watching the tide return. Aleksy pulled out a sketchpad, drawing quickly.

Ren peeked. "Is that me?"

Aleksy didn't answer. But the lines were unmistakable—Ren, camera in hand, eyes bright.

Ren touched Aleksy's arm. "You see me."

Aleksy looked at him. "I always have."

The moment hung between them—quiet, electric.

Ren whispered, "Then don't look away."

Aleksy didn't.