The sea was too loud.
Even with my earbuds in, even with the volume turned high enough to make my eardrums ache, I could still hear it. The crash and pull, the endless rhythm that wasn't just sound—it was pressure. Like the ocean was knocking on my ribs, waiting for me to answer.
I pressed the buds deeper into my ears until they hurt, but the waves still got through—soft and low, like whispers in a language I used to know.
Azure Bay had that kind of sound.
Beautiful, but never quiet.
Everything here shimmered too much. The sunlight. The people. Even the air felt staged. Like the entire town was rehearsing for a show that no one invited me to.
I didn't want to be here again. Not in this place that smelled like postcards and money. Not in a town that pretended the sea was friendly.
I wanted Greytown—the smog, the noise, the cracked sidewalks, the constant chaos that drowned your
thoughts before they had a chance to surface. The kind of place where nobody stared, where everyone was too busy surviving to care.
But my father had transferred.
"Opportunities," he said, in that tone that sounded more like a command than comfort.
Opportunities. Right.
As if that word had ever meant anything good.
I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets, walking faster. The school's glass doors reflected my face at me, distorted by the sunlight. I barely recognized myself.
Hood up. Eyes down. Sketchbook tucked under one arm like a shield.
I tugged at the chain around my neck—a nervous habit. The small silver pendant was shaped like a teardrop, cool and smooth against my skin. My mother had given it to me before she disappeared.
With it, she'd left a note. Just one line.
If you ever hear the sea calling your name—don't answer.
That was six years ago.
And I hadn't heard it since.
Not until last night.
The voice had been soft. Not like a shout through the waves, not even like a whisper. Just… a hum. Low. Familiar. Wrong.
It hadn't said my name.
It said hers.
Hope Starling.
The name echoed through my head even now, quieter than the sea, but somehow sharper.
I walked through the school gates, keeping to the edge of the crowd. No one noticed me. That was good. I liked it that way.
The halls were too clean. Too bright. Every locker gleamed like it had been polished for a photo shoot. Students moved in clusters, laughing, chatting, their voices bouncing off the walls like echoes in a canyon.
I kept my hood up. Not because I was hiding. Because I didn't want to be seen.
Someone brushed past me in the hall. I looked up.
A girl—bright, golden, glowing like sunlight through glass. The kind of beauty that didn't ask for attention, it demanded it.
Hair catching the light. Eyes like the horizon right before sunset.
And the crowd moved around her like she was gravity itself. Every head turned, every whisper tilted in her direction.
Hope Starling.
Everyone whispered her name like it was a spell.
But for me, it wasn't new.
I'd heard it before.
In the waves.
My fingers tightened around the pendant until the metal dug into my palm. I told myself it was a coincidence. It had to be.
I didn't believe in fate. Or magic. Or anything that couldn't be explained by logic and bad timing.
But when she walked past me—close enough for her perfume to replace the salt in the air—something in me stilled.
Like the sea was holding its breath.
I turned away before she could see me staring, forcing myself down the hall. My shoes squeaked faintly against the polished floor, too clean, too bright. The sound of
ordinary life—lockers clanging, chatter, footsteps—should've drowned everything out. But the ocean didn't stop. It never stopped.
The waves kept whispering underneath it all, just out of reach.
She's here.
I didn't answer.
I just kept walking.
I found an empty bench in the courtyard, shaded by a crooked palm tree. No one else was there. Good. I pulled out my sketchbook, flipping past pages filled with jagged lines and shadowed faces.
I started drawing. Not her. Not yet.
Just the sea.
The way it moved. The way it watched.
My pencil scratched across the page, fast and quiet. Lines curved into waves, waves into eyes, eyes into something deeper. Something ancient.
I didn't know what I was drawing. I never did. I just let it happen.
A shadow passed over me. I looked up.
She was across the courtyard now, talking to someone. Laughing. Her voice was soft, but it carried loudly around the room. Soft but impactful.
I looked back down, sketching faster.
The hum returned. Faint. Like a memory.
Not in my ears. In my bones.
I closed the sketchbook and stood, walking away before it could get louder.
Inside, the classroom buzzed with energy. I took the seat farthest from the window, hood still up, earbuds still in. No one spoke to me. No one asked who I was.
Perfect.
The teacher introduced Hope. Everyone clapped. I didn't.
She waved, smiled, and sat down.
I didn't look at her.
But I felt her.
Like the tide pulling at my ankles.
The pendant burned cold against my chest.
The sea was still whispering.
And this time, I wasn't sure I could ignore it.