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Chapter 4: Embrace of the Sea and Shadows
The sea was calm, carrying us toward the unknown. The air was cold, and the wind lashed against us, but it wasn't harsher than the anticipation gnawing at our hearts. We clung to what little clothing we had, but the chill wasn't just from the weather—it was the weight of the uncertainty that lay ahead.
I could hear the steady slap of water against the wooden hull, my breathing quickening even though I wasn't moving.
The farther the boat drifted from the shore, the harder my heart pounded, as if my very soul was clawing at the past I'd left behind. I stared down at the dark waters and felt as though I was walking on a thin thread stretched above a bottomless void.
It was my first time on a boat. I didn't know what awaited us, but I knew one thing—out here, a single mistake could be the last.
Saleh steered the vessel with a grip so firm it seemed as though he was trying to command fate itself. I sat at the stern, watching the endless waves stretch into oblivion.
There were nine of us packed together, shivering, each trying to ignore the cold that was seeping into our bones.
Beside me, Fuad sat uncharacteristically silent, eyes locked on the horizon.
"Fuad, are you alright?"
He turned slowly, offering a faint smile that wasn't like him at all.
"It's just… strange, isn't it? Here we are, in the middle of the sea, not knowing if we'll make it… or vanish beneath it."
A shiver ran through me—not from the cold, but from his words. I never imagined I'd see Fuad sound so defeated. I was thinking the same thing, but I didn't want to add to the gloom.
"We'll make it," I said, though I wasn't certain myself.
He looked at me for a long moment, then whispered, "And if we don't… remember that at least we tried."
I said nothing. I could only look back at the sea, silently praying that fate wouldn't betray us tonight.
Hours passed, fatigue weighing heavily on us. Saleh—the captain we'd paid everything we had—held firmly to the wheel, eyes scanning the horizon like a predator on the hunt.
Then a whisper broke the silence.
"Lights… there are lights."
My blood froze. I turned to see a glow in the distance, slowly growing larger.
"Coast guard…" Fuad murmured. His voice barely carried over the waves.
Saleh reacted instantly, lowering the sail and hissing for silence. In moments, the boat became a floating grave.
The lights swept across the sea, reflecting off the water. The massive ship drew closer, close enough that we could almost make out its details. My heart pounded like a drum. If they caught us, it meant prison—or worse, being dragged back to the life we had tried to escape.
I shut my eyes, bracing for the worst…
But the ship passed, the lights fading into the distance until darkness reclaimed the horizon.
The air rushed back into our lungs all at once, as though we had been drowning.
"We survived," Fuad muttered, though his tone carried no relief.
Because the sea wasn't done with us.
Time crawled by. Just when it seemed we might be safe, we heard them.
A deep, resonant sound rising from beneath the depths—not human, not even earthly. It was the kind of sound that made you feel the ocean itself was speaking.
"Whales," Saleh whispered.
We couldn't see them clearly, but we felt their presence. The water trembled beneath us as massive shadows moved below, each the size of mountains.
We held our breath, terrified that even the faintest sound might draw their attention.
And then, as suddenly as they appeared, they vanished.
But the sea wasn't finished.
The wind shifted. Waves that had been calm rose into towering walls of water. The sky darkened into a furious canvas of black clouds and flashing lightning.
"A storm is coming! Hold on!" Saleh roared.
The first wave slammed into the boat, nearly capsizing it. I clutched the edge desperately as Fuad grabbed a passenger who had nearly gone overboard.
And then we saw them—dark fins cutting through the waves, circling us with eerie precision.
"Orcas!" Saleh's voice cracked with panic.
They weren't just animals; they were predators—intelligent and merciless, known to toy with fragile boats like ours.
The first strike rattled the vessel. The second sent water flooding over our feet. The boat groaned like it was ready to split apart.
Then came the final blow.
A colossal wave rose before us, a wall of water blotting out the sky. It crashed down with monstrous force, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I was airborne. Then gravity claimed me. The world spun, and the sea swallowed me whole.
Cold nothingness. No sound, no light, no breath. I tried to scream, but the ocean devoured my voice before it even left my throat.
I sank deeper, the boat fading into the distance above me, shadows moving in the abyss like unseen beasts circling their prey.
And then… nothing but black.
In the silence of the deep, my heart hammered the only rhythm left to me. I felt my soul begin to drift away, merging with the endless current.
But then—light.
A faint glow pierced the dark, carrying with it muffled echoes, like fragments of forgotten memories. A shadow loomed above me… then a hand seized mine, pulling me upward with desperate strength.
It was Fuad's voice, faint but burning through the storm.
"Youssef! Hold on—hold on!"
My eyes snapped open. I was back on the deck, my body convulsing from the cold as rain pelted my face. Familiar eyes stared down at me—fear and relief intertwined.
Saleh barked orders, fighting to steer us through the chaos, but I understood only one thing: we were still alive.
Hours passed like centuries. The storm raged, the heavens unleashed their fury, and then, finally, it began to break. The clouds thinned, the sea settled. And there, on the horizon—land.
"We made it," Fuad whispered, his voice ragged with disbelief.
When my feet touched solid ground, it felt like a lifetime's burden had lifted. I wasn't just a survivor. I was reborn.
Days blurred together after that. Fuad and I—strangers in a strange land. No one here was waiting for us, no one cared if we lived or died.
We shared stale bread, traded jokes about our wounds, convincing ourselves we were alright.
We slept in a decrepit shelter, walls cracked, the stench of sweat and despair heavy in the air. Each night, we lay on rusted beds, staring at ceilings that seemed to mock us with their silence.
In the mornings, we wandered alleys in search of work, knocking on doors that never opened.
At last, we found a small refuge—a modest restaurant tucked in the backstreets.
I washed dishes until my hands cracked. Fuad carried boxes until his back threatened to break.
"At least we're not on the streets," he said one evening, wiping the sweat from his brow.
I nodded. "It's only a first step."
At night, we roamed the city, watching children chase after their parents, lovers sharing laughter—while we drifted like shadows among the walls.
One evening, we sat in a corner of the restaurant, eating a miserable meal of soup and bread in silence.
Fuad muttered, "What a cruel life."
I answered, "But kinder than drowning. At least we have a roof… that's a miracle in itself."
He shook his head, voice low.
"Sometimes I wonder, Youssef… would it have been easier if we'd died that night?"
I stared at him. His eyes held sorrow and fear, the same weight we'd carried since leaving the shore.
"Don't say that… As long as we're alive, there's a chance. Even if life here is harsh, at least the sea didn't claim us."
He sighed bitterly. "But do you really think we survived? Or are we just waiting to fail again… here, in this land, far from everything we knew?"
His words struck me like an arrow. My throat clenched, and for a moment the world stood still.
Then—everything froze.
Fuad's hand stopped midair, the spoon suspended. Drops of soup hung frozen before falling. The restaurant's noise vanished into silence.
"Fuad… why did you stop? What's happening?"
But he didn't answer. His gaze was locked, lifeless, as though time itself had halted.
Then the sound died completely.
The floor dissolved beneath me. Shadows swallowed the room. Fuad and the others vanished into the dark, leaving me alone in the void.
The darkness dragged me down.
I tried to scream—but all that escaped was a gasp, as though I were falling once more into the frozen sea.
The crash of waves. The roar of water. The cold tearing into my bones.
And then—nothing but the abyss.
✦ To be continued…