Ash didn't know when he drifted into sleep. He only knew that when it came, it wasn't the kind of rest he wanted.
At first, the darkness was thick and complete, a smothering void that pressed against his eyelids. Then, slowly, the rhythm of drums seeped into it steady, slow, pulsing like a heartbeat. He saw the square again, lit by lanterns, the villagers swaying with masks that hid their faces, their mouths moving to chants he didn't understand. But the sound wasn't just outside him anymore. It was inside, vibrating in his chest, carrying him along.
Then came the water. Black water, stretching further than the moonlight could touch, flat and endless. Ripples spread across it, though there was no wind. He couldn't see what moved beneath the surface, but he felt it something vast and patient, circling below.
The crocodile tooth from his cap gleamed just above the water's edge, shining like bone slick with oil. A drop of dark liquid slid down the tip and spread into the water like ink.
Ash jerked awake with a sharp breath.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The dream clung to him like cobwebs, and the drumbeat still pounded faintly in his skull. The lamp in the corner had burned low, throwing the room into shadows. The carved wooden shutters rattled softly in the sea wind.
The others were asleep, but not peacefully. Mira muttered something under her breath, brow furrowed as if she were fighting in her dreams. Jayden tossed restlessly, mumbling words he didn't seem to recognize. Windy lay stiff, her eyes twitching beneath closed lids. Even Leo, who usually slept like a rock, twitched his fingers against the sheets as though gripping something invisible.
Ash's throat felt dry. He sat up, pressing his palms into the mattress, trying to slow his breathing. That was when he noticed.
The cloaks.
They weren't hanging quite the way they had been. The heavy fabric shifted slightly, though the air in the room was still. It was subtle, but enough to make him freeze. In the low light, the feathers on the caps seemed to glisten, as if wet. For an instant, he swore the crocodile teeth gleamed faintly, catching light that wasn't there.
A knock rattled the door.
Ash nearly jumped out of his skin.
It was soft, quick two raps, then silence.
His first instinct was to wake the others. But something in the stillness kept him from it. Slowly, he slipped off the bed, feet pressing against the cool wooden floor, and padded toward the door.
The knock came again, softer this time, like the hand behind it was trembling.
Ash hesitated, then unlatched the door and cracked it open.
A girl stood there.
She couldn't have been older than him fifteen, maybe sixteen. Her hair was tangled and hung over her face. She wore no mask, no cloak, just a simple rough dress that looked hastily thrown on. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as though she had run to get there.
When she saw Ash, she pressed a finger to her lips.
"You shouldn't have worn them," she whispered, her voice trembling. Her eyes flicked past him, to the pegs where the cloaks and caps hung. "They mark you now. The island won't let you leave."
Ash swallowed hard. His first thought was to slam the door. His second was to demand answers. Instead, he found himself whispering, "What are you talking about?"
The girl shook her head urgently. "Tomorrow, when they lead you to the path… don't follow it. Don't step where the shadows fall. That's where it waits."
Her words landed like cold stones in Ash's chest.
"What waits?" he pressed.
But she flinched, her gaze darting down the hall. Footsteps echoed outside measured, heavy, deliberate. Someone was coming.
The girl's eyes went wide. She stepped back, shaking her head. "Forget I came, They'll know."
Then she turned and vanished into the darkness before Ash could stop her.
The footsteps outside grew louder. Ash's heart pounded. He shut the door quietly, his hands shaking, and leaned against it. For a moment, he just stood there, listening, praying the sound would pass. Slowly, it did, fading down the street until there was only the whisper of the sea again.
Behind him, Mira stirred.
"Ash?" Her voice was low. "Who was at the door?"
Ash hesitated. "No one," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
But he didn't sleep again.
He lay awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the girl's warning echoing in his head. They mark you now. The island won't let you leave.
The chant from the square drifted back into his thoughts, faint but insistent. He could almost hear it in the walls, under the floorboards, in the pulse of his veins. By the time exhaustion finally dragged him under, the dream had returned.
This time, the black water wasn't calm. It was rising.
Morning came slow, heavy with mist.
Ash opened his eyes to pale light slipping through the shutters. The air smelled of salt and smoke. He sat up, his body aching with a strange stiffness, as though he had d been running all night instead of sleeping.
The others were waking too. Mira rubbed her temples, muttering, "I dreamed of water, It was… everywhere."
"Same," Jayden said, sitting up with a groan. "Only, mine had… I don't know. Shapes. Like something moving under it." He shivered and shook his head. "Man, this place is seriously messing with me."
Windy was quiet, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. She didn't speak at all, just stared at the cloaks and caps hanging from the pegs.
Leo stretched, yawning loudly, but his face was pale. "Weirdest dream of my life," he admitted. "Felt like someone else was inside my head."
Ash said nothing. He thought of the girl's warning but didn't share it. Not yet.
A knock came again this time steady, official.
Shulu's voice called from outside. "It is time. The mayor Saka awaits you in the square."
The group exchanged uneasy looks.
Windy muttered, "Guess skipping isn't an option, huh?"
Mira sighed, standing. "Let's just… get it over with."
They dressed in silence, each pulling the heavy cloaks back over their shoulders. The fabric settled against them like it remembered their shape. Ash hesitated when he fastened the clasp once again, he felt the faint warmth radiating from the metal, like a living pulse.
The caps were worse. The feathers brushed his skin with a strange softness, and the crocodile tooth gleamed with its faint, polished sharpness. He remembered dipping his finger in the black liquid the night before, pressing it to the tooth. Even now, he could swear a dark stain lingered in the cracks of the ivory.
When they stepped outside, Shulu was waiting, his too wide smile fixed in place. His eyes scanned their cloaks and caps approvingly.
"Perfect," he said smoothly. "The island is pleased."
The words made Ash's stomach twist.
They followed Shulu through the narrow streets, villagers stepping aside as they passed. Everyone wore masks today, their painted eyes blank, their mouths hidden. Some bowed slightly, some whispered as they brushed their fingertips across the teens' cloaks in passing. Ash felt each touch like a spark on his skin.
The square looked different in daylight. The lanterns had been extinguished, the poles wrapped in vines now glistened with dew. The air smelled of seaweed and smoke. Yet the crowd was already gathered, masks in place, bodies pressed together in a living wall.
The mayor stood on the platform again, hands clasped in front of him. His expression was solemn, his eyes sharp.
"Today," he announced, "they take their first steps on the path. What was opened last night must be walked this morning."
A ripple of sound passed through the crowd a low, eager murmur.
Shulu gestured for the group to step forward. They obeyed reluctantly, their feet heavy on the wooden staircase. From the platform, the entire village stretched before them, the sea shimmering faintly in the distance, mist curling above the rooftops.
The Saka's voice rose. "Last night, they were named by the island. Today, the island shows them the way. Let the path appear."
The crowd began to chant again, the same rhythmic words from the night before. The sound rose and fell like waves, filling the square, echoing against the houses.
Ash's heart hammered. He glanced at Mira, who looked pale but steady. Jayden tried to grin, but it faltered quickly. Windy hugged her cloak close, while Leo shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
Then something changed.
At the far edge of the square, the ground shimmered. The cobblestones rippled as though they were water. Slowly, a line of darkness appeared, stretching outward like ink seeping across paper. It wound between the houses, twisting and curling until it led away from the village, toward the mist-shrouded forest.
The crowd roared with approval.
"The path," Shulu said, his voice hushed with reverence. "It calls to you."
Ash's stomach clenched. The girl's warning burned in his ears: Don't follow it. Don't step where the shadows fall. That's where it waits.
The saka turned to them, eyes gleaming. "Step forward, children. The island is watching."
The crowd pressed closer, chanting, clapping, their voices insistent. The path shimmered, beckoning.
Ash glanced at his friends. None of them moved. For a moment, it felt like the entire island held its breath, waiting.
And though the chant filled the square, louder and louder, Ash could swear he heard something else beneath it deep, slow, like the echo of water rising.
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