Chapter 156
- Kaysi -
Warmth hit me first.
Then pressure.
Then the sound of a mask hissing gently over my mouth.
My eyes fought to open, and the world sharpened into view by fragments.
Pale blue light glows like deep-sea jellyfish.
Curved glass above me, holding back an entire ocean.
A soft, humming medical bed beneath my spine.
And the words across the wall in clean, bright letters:
Shell city—protective medical ward.
I inhaled sharply—and coughed as seawater finally gave up its hold on me.
A medic steadied the mask. "Easy. You're safe. Just breathe slowly."
Safe.
The word didn't feel real to me.
I tried to push myself up, but my arms trembled too violently. "Wh...Where...?"
"A patrol ship spotted your group," he said. "You were caught in a lethal downward current. Lucky we were surveying the outer structure today."
So—no sea monsters.
No attack.
Just the ocean and nature doing what they do.
But we should've died.
My gaze drifted to the surrounding beds.
Josh was breathing steadily but was still unconscious.
Becky, wrapped in a heat blanket, her chest rising slowly and shallowly.
Evan stared at the ceiling with half-focused eyes, relief and exhaustion blending together.
Micah was awake, shaking but alive.
And—
James.
His bed was farther back. He wasn't awake. His head jerked, brow pinched, and breath uneven. He looked as if he were trapped under something heavy and invisible.
A low rumble echoed.
"Wh...? I coughed."
"It is an artificial bio-atmosphere. It regulated the seasons for our crops in Shell City." The medic said, moving away, leaving us in the soft quiet.
Micah noticed James twitching and whimpering.
She slipped off her bed, ignoring her own sea legs, and walked to him. "James? Hey... You seem to be dreaming. You need to wake up before..."
James flinched.
Lightning flashed in the distance, and thunder followed. He twisted, snapped up, and grabbed Micah's wrist.
Not violently or in a threatening way, just with desperation.
Micah froze for a half-second.
James opened his eyes, still in a daze, terrified, breathless, and shaking. Realization hit him fast, and he released her wrist as if she were made of glass.
"S-sorry," He pleaded. "I didn't mean—I wasn't—"
"It's okay, James. She said softly. "You're alright." She hugged him.
He didn't look convinced. I'd never seen him so panicked.
Thunder and lightning,
Not even real, just a machine in the distance.
But powerful enough to drag him under harder than the ocean did.
Micah stayed beside him until his breath steadied.
I wanted to speak—comfort him, or someone—but I couldn't even help myself right now. My throat tightened instead. I looked up at the glass ceiling again, the only view I really had other than my friends right now. The ocean is shifting above us in slow ribbons of light.
Shell city.
I had heard the name in fairytales—an underwater metropolis with advanced tech, unusual laws, and people born with unique gifts. No one here has mermaid tails, that is. A place some admired and others feared.
But being here...
The air felt too calm—the people here were too perfect.
The kind of perfect that made your arm hairs stand on end, thinking about what's next.
The medic returned and checked a monitor beside me. "You're stable. All of you are. Once your vitals settle, you're all more than welcome to explore the city until we figure out how to get you back to your homes on the surface.
Explore.
As if this were a field trip. Well, it was, but this was not our destination.
We almost died.
He gave a polite nod and left again, the door sliding open with a whisper.
The room dimmed slightly, soft lights shifting to rest mode glow.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Josh breathes. Becky slept.
James finally relaxed back against his pillow.
Micah stayed beside him.
Evan exhaled chakily, looking at the ocean in the ceiling as if he needed proof it wouldn't collapse.
It was beautiful and heavy at the same time.
We were alive and safe. But something felt as if it were stirring; safety didn't seem to last long.
Whatever this Shell City was, and whoever managed or controlled it, they had a reason for bringing us here and keeping us—if only temporarily, until we recovered.
That thought followed me as exhaustion finally won.
The ocean above drifted lazily, unbothered by what it held beneath it.
And slowly, despite every instinct screaming otherwise, I slept.
I woke to light.
Not the sharp sting of hospital fluorescents—but something warmer, diffused, as morning sun filtered through water. The glass ceiling above us shimmered faintly as currents passed, scattering light into slow-moving patterns across the walls.
For a moment, I forgot where I was
Then the pressure in my chest reminded me.
I pushed myself upright carefully this time. My body ached, but it obeyed. The mask was gone. So were the wires. Only a thin band circled my wrist now, glowing faintly with pulsing green light.
Vitals monitor.
Josh was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face like he couldn't believe it was still attached. Becky lay propped against pillows beside him, eyes open, color returned, her expression thoughtful rather than afraid.
Micah sat with James again—still close, still watchful. James looked calmer now, though his shoulders stayed tight, like he was bracing for a storm that might never come.
Evan noticed me first.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "I think so."
The door slid open with a gentle hiss.
Two attendants entered—not medics this time. They wore sleek uniforms in soft pearl tones, their movements precise but unhurried. Everything about them radiated calm.
"Good morning," one of them said pleasantly. "Welcome to Shell City."
The way she said it—proud, practiced—made me nervous.
"You've been cleared to leave the medical wing," the other added. "Duke and Baby weren't in the ward. The medics said they were 'being briefed elsewhere.
Which sounded official enough that none of us questioned it—at least not yet.
"A guide will escort you through the lower districts. Think of it as an introduction."
Josh frowned. "Lower districts?"
"Yes," she replied smoothly. "Shell City is layered by function and resource management. You'll see."
That wasn't really an answer.
Still, no one argued. We weren't prisoners. No locks clicked behind us. No weapons were visible. The attendants waited patiently, like they had all the time in the world.
We followed them.
The doors opened into something breathtaking.
The city spread out beneath the glass like a living organism—tier upon tier of architecture spiraling outward, glowing softly in blues and golds. Walkways curved like shells. Towers rose like coral spires. Water flowed through transparent channels overhead and below, never touching us, always present.
People moved through it all with ease.
Laughing.
Talking.
Smiling.
Everyone we passed looked… content. Peaceful. Not forced—but practiced. As if happiness were expected here. Maintained.
A child ran past us, giggling, chased by a ribbon of light that flowed along the walkway like living glass. It curved and twisted in response to his movement, brightening when he laughed, dimming when he slowed—as if the city itself were playing with him.
A couple leaned against a railing nearby, watching the ocean beyond the glass dome like it was just another skyline—calm, ordinary, unquestioned.
No fear in their eyes. No tension among the people. No cracks.
"This place is incredible," Becky whispered.
"It feels… perfect," Micah said, though her tone wasn't fully convinced.
James said nothing. His eyes kept flicking upward, tracking the artificial sky, the distant glow of simulated clouds.
I caught Evan watching the people instead of the buildings, calculating, measuring and noticing what no one else seemed to notice.
Our guide gestured broadly. "Shell City is a refuge; our people have been here for 12 generations," she said. "A place where progress and harmony coexist. Here, gifts are nurtured. Conflict is minimized. And peace is protected."
"How?" Evan asked.
She smiled—bright, flawless. "We take care of problems before they spread. All thanks to our governor, he even knew you would come. He would give us speeches about how our people were destined to help the outside world one day when the time came. That's why you being here is exceptional."
Something about that sentence echoed unpleasantly in my chest.
As if on cue, a group passed us—uniformed officers, their attire dark and quiet. Cloaked in hoods like assassins, they moved with purpose, faces covered but calm, eyes sharp. No insignias. No visible weapons.
No smiles.
"Who are they?" Josh asked.
The guide didn't hesitate. "Our saviours, The Silent police."
The name settled heavily.
"They ensure stability and peace within the city," she continued. "Emotional, social, spiritual. When unrest appears, they remove it."
Remove.
Not helpful.
Not heal.
I glanced at my friends. Becky's jaw tightened; they didn't believe in second chances, as we had given many times. Micah's fingers curled, knowing she would have been one who was silenced. James swallowed hard, knowing the lives affected by sacrificing to achieve their peace.
The city sparkled around us—alive yet beautiful, flawless.
A sanctuary.
And yet—
In this world of perfection, something was being buried.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
Permit.
And for the first time since waking up in Shell City, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
This place wasn't dangerous because it was broken.
It was dangerous because the system worked too well.