CHAPTER FIFTY: THE TIDES IF DISTANCE —— PART II

Massive Bonus Chapter to Celebrate Chapter 50!

I can't believe we've reached fifty chapters — Alhamdulillah!

I'm beyond grateful for all your support, kind comments, and the power stones you've showered on this story. Your encouragement means everything, and I wouldn't have made it this far without you all.

Thank you so much for being part of this journey!

Wishing everyone a blessed and peaceful Ramadan Mubarak!

Let's dive into this special chapter together!

♦♦♦♦♦

"A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor." — Franklin D. Roosevelt

~~~~~~~~~

Gravill remained by the window, his breath fogging the iron bars as the night deepened. The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting silver streaks across the restless sea. He watched the waves roll in and out, over and over, relentless and unyielding. It reminded him of the ache in his chest — persistent, steady, a tide that refused to recede.

His fingers twitched against the cold stone, tracing patterns along the damp surface. He thought about Kieran's words, about the others' scornful laughter echoing like thunder in his mind. They didn't trust him. Didn't want him there.

But he hadn't come this far to break.

Gravill inhaled the salt-laden air, straightened his spine, and stepped back from the window. His muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion weighing down every step as he retraced his path through the corridor. The lantern flames flickered, casting shifting shadows against the walls, and for a moment, he imagined figures moving in the darkness — lingering remnants of spirits lost to the sea.

His heart thudded louder.

The hallway twisted, stone archways looming overhead like the ribcage of a great beast, and Gravill's pulse quickened as he realized he didn't recognize this part of the building. He'd walked further than he thought.

Too far.

He turned a corner, only to find another stretch of empty corridor, the air colder and heavier the deeper he went. His fingers brushed against the wall for balance, the rough texture scraping against his skin, but he didn't stop. The silence pressed against his ears, almost deafening, broken only by the distant crash of waves outside.

Then he heard something else.

A faint scraping sound.

Gravill froze.

He strained to listen, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The noise repeated — deliberate, steady, like metal dragging against stone. He turned his head slowly, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs refused to move.

A shadow shifted in the corner of the corridor.

Gravill's throat tightened, but he forced himself to step closer. One foot in front of the other, careful, quiet. The scraping grew louder, echoing in the confined space until he rounded the corner and saw—

Nothing.

An empty hallway.

But the stone floor was damp, streaked with thin lines of water leading further into the corridor.

Gravill swallowed hard.

His gut twisted, and every part of him wanted to turn back — to return to the dormitory and endure the boys' cruel laughter instead of whatever this was. But something pushed him forward, a curiosity tinged with dread, an unwillingness to turn away from the unknown.

He followed the wet trail.

The corridor narrowed, the stone arching lower until Gravill had to duck. His shoulders scraped the sides, the air cold enough to sting his skin. His heart hammered against his ribs, but he pressed on, until finally, he emerged into a circular chamber.

It was small and dark, the only light spilling in from a jagged crack in the ceiling, where moonlight pooled on the floor like liquid silver. At the center stood a statue — a figure carved from smooth black stone, its face weathered and featureless.

But it held something in its outstretched hands.

A shell.

Gravill's pulse roared in his ears as he stepped closer, the wet streaks on the floor ending at the statue's feet. The shell glistened, water dripping from its spiraled surface, even though there was no source of moisture anywhere else.

He reached out, fingers trembling, and picked it up.

The moment his skin touched the shell, a jolt shot through his body, sharp and cold like ice water surging through his veins. He gasped, stumbling back, but the chamber spun around him. The walls blurred, the floor shifted, and suddenly, he wasn't standing in the room anymore.

He was underwater.

The sea wrapped around him, endless and vast, its depths stretching out in every direction. But he wasn't drowning. He could breathe — the water filling his lungs like air — and in the distance, he saw something moving.

A figure.

Swimming toward him.

Gravill's chest constricted as the figure grew closer, its shape becoming clearer. It wasn't human. Its body shimmered with scales that reflected the faint light filtering down from the ocean surface. Its eyes glowed like lanterns, bright and unblinking, and its mouth curved into a jagged, tooth-filled grin.

It reached out a webbed hand.

Gravill's body locked up.

The creature's fingers almost grazed his skin —

And he snapped back to reality, gasping for breath.

He was back in the chamber, sprawled on the cold stone floor, the shell still clutched in his hand. Water pooled around him, soaking into his clothes, and his heart pounded so violently he thought it might burst.

He scrambled to his feet, chest heaving, and bolted out of the chamber.

Gravill didn't stop running. He sprinted through the twisting corridors, lungs burning, until he burst back into the dormitory hallway. He staggered to a halt, collapsing against the wall, pressing a hand to his chest as he tried to steady his breathing.

The dormitory door creaked open.

Kieran stood there, squinting at Gravill like he'd lost his mind.

"What happened to you?" he muttered, taking in the soaked clothes, the water dripping from Gravill's hair, the way he shook like he'd been dragged out of a storm.

Gravill couldn't answer.

He looked down at his hand, where the shell still rested, faintly glowing.

The sea had followed him.

And it wasn't letting go.