Utopia - Part 3

"Before joining this faith as a missionary, I was once an academic at New Moscow University, much like yourself. I devoted my life to studying the legends of the Old World. Foolish, isn't it?" Dmitri's voice, tinged with a thick Soviet accent, carried a raspy edge that hinted at years of hardship.

"But if the Old World is nothing more than myth, then why is it that every nation on this New World shares the same stories? Why does humanity universally cling to the belief in the same sunlit origin?"

He smiled wistfully, as though the memory of his intellectual pursuits brought him a strange sort of joy. "When I first heard the tenets of Solaris, I was captivated. I left the university and joined the faith. Why, you ask? Because of the Sun God—the luminary they worship."

His smile deepened as he continued, his voice almost reverent. "Picture it. A world cloaked in darkness, danger, strife, war, survival… Wouldn't it be better to imagine a world opposite to this Sunless one? A world filled with light.

"I used to believe knowledge was the force that drove humanity forward. But I was wrong," he said, pausing for effect before his voice gained a firm conviction. "It is belief. Faith in something greater, something unshakable—that is what defines us. What makes me, me, and you, you.

"I believe, with all my heart, that humanity once lived in a world bathed in light. A world where we didn't have to traverse dangerous oceans that divide us by nation and fragment our species into scattered factions. A world where people were united, where there was no war over iron or oil. A world where the Sun God hovered above us all."

He paused, the weight of his words sinking into the silence. "Even as the pirates attacked our ship, as water poured in through the breach, and as we stood on the brink of turning against one another, I realized something.

"If we let go of our belief, we were as good as dead.

"So I begged them to believe. To believe in what I believed.

"That was when the Sun God saved us. When He granted us this land."

His voice softened, yet the conviction in his words remained unshaken. "To you, it may be just an island. But to us, it is a symbol—a sign of the Old World. A place where the soil is fertile, the waters abound with fish that never run out, and where no division of nations exists.

"To us, this island is paradise in the Sunless World. A glimpse of the place we once came from.

"And one day, if humanity learns to share the same belief, perhaps the light will return to this world. Perhaps this world could become a paradise, just like this island."

Dmitri concluded with a serene smile, his expression peaceful and unshaken.

…

Dmitri's words echoed ceaselessly in Sonia's mind. She wasn't sure why she couldn't let them go. For reasons she couldn't quite grasp, his story looped over and over in her thoughts, refusing to leave her alone.

Was it the conviction in his voice? The impossibility of his tale? Or perhaps the glimpse of hope, fragile yet persistent, that his words carried?

Whatever it was, it wouldn't let her rest.

Sonia thought to herself that, although Arthur understood the New Soviet language, he likely hadn't used it much in real conversations with native speakers. The version of Dmitri's story that Arthur had relayed to the crew didn't match up entirely with what Dmitri had actually said.

Of course, she knew the New Soviet language well enough to write, read, and speak it. Naturally—her father had taught it to her before she even learned Underrican language.

Her family's life in Under D.C. had been nothing short of grueling. Her father worked as a laborer at the docks, hauling goods in exchange for a meager wage, while her mother labored in a pig farm, returning home every evening covered in mud and filth.

It had been easy for Sonia to feel resentment.

It had been even easier to believe in what her father told her.

If only she succeeded in her mission, perhaps her family could return to the motherland. And perhaps, life would be better. She clung to that belief.

Sonia's gaze lingered on Esther, who was leading the group across the coastline lined with mushroom farms, heading toward the heart of the island where makeshift wooden buildings gleamed under the light of torches.

Her thoughts drifted back to that day—the day this blonde-haired girl had stood between her and the barrel of a gun. She recalled every word Esther had said to her, every ounce of conviction in her voice. Words that had shaken the foundation of Sonia's beliefs to their core.

Now, she understood why Dmitri's words echoed so vividly in her mind:

"I once thought knowledge was what drove our species forward. But I was wrong."

"It is belief—unyielding faith in something—that defines us. It makes me, me, and you, you."

So, who was she?

Was she the spy from the New Soviet Empire, entrusted with a mission by her ancestors to infiltrate and survive in enemy lands?

Or was she just an ordinary girl, deceived by her father's tales of grandeur, crafted to distract her from the brutal reality of their lives?

What did she truly believe in?

Sonia barely registered the motion of her own feet, her thoughts consuming her, until a hand gently touched her shoulder.

She flinched, spinning around to find the perpetually impassive face of the dark-haired boy with his unruly locks.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly retracting his hand as if he'd just touched something he shouldn't have.

This boy was yet another source of Sonia's frustration.

Of course, she knew that he was Holland's shadow. He'd appeared out of nowhere the moment her identity as a spy had been exposed, sticking to her and Esther like glue ever since. It made sense that he'd been sent to monitor her, but that didn't make his constant presence any less aggravating.

It wasn't just irritation she felt around him, though.

She was also afraid of him—and distrustful.

But it wasn't solely because of what had happened at the old Soviet base.

Sonia shook her thoughts of Rain away for now, forcing her voice into a neutral tone. "It's nothing."

She turned and resumed walking, catching up to Esther, who was now waiting at the entrance to the settlement.

"Did you scold Rain again?" Esther asked softly as Sonia approached.

"No," Sonia replied, trying to sound casual.

Esther eyed her suspiciously. "He might have been sent by Holland to keep us in check, but Rain's a nice guy. You should try being friendlier."

Sonia sighed. "Stop acting like you're older than me, would you? And I get it—if Holland sent him, it's because of what I did. But how do you know he's nice? Do you know him?"

She was taken aback when Esther averted her eyes. "Well… a little, I guess."

That reaction—don't tell me…

"Listen, Esther," Sonia began, gripping the younger girl by the shoulders, her voice heavy with urgency. "I don't have anything personal against Rain, but you can't trust him."

"Why not?" Esther's brows furrowed in confusion, her bright eyes searching Sonia's face for answers.

Noticing Rain drawing close behind them, Sonia decided against explaining further. "Just... trust me on this, okay?"

She couldn't dive into the details now, not with Rain so close. Shifting gears, she asked, "So, what's your plan for solving the mystery of this moving island in three hours?"

Esther immediately snapped back into her detective mode, her posture straightening as if a switch had flipped. "I've got a few theories. But either way, we need to start by exploring the island. Hopefully, we'll find some clues that can point us in the right direction." Her tone was methodical and sure, a stark reflection of her scholarly upbringing.

Sonia couldn't help but silently admire that.

The trio ventured further into the settlement, leaving the shoreline behind.

The town they entered was a haphazard collection of wooden structures. Many were more akin to shacks than homes, constructed from rough-hewn planks nailed together in uneven rows. Some lacked doors entirely, with heavy canvas sheets serving as makeshift entrances. Other buildings had arched frames made of large wooden beams, anchored by shortened ship masts repurposed to support their weight.

"Dmitri said they dismantled their ship to build this place," Esther murmured, awe evident in her tone as she took in the surrounding structures.

The town was lit by an array of torches and firefly lanterns, their combined glow casting warm light that illuminated every detail of the settlement.

As they walked, they passed a number of the island's inhabitants. Clad in patched and threadbare clothing, the men turned to watch them, their gazes lingering a moment too long. Sonia felt her skin prickle under the weight of their stares, a strange unease creeping over her.

"There are no women or children here," she noted aloud.

Esther, still scanning the settlement with curiosity, responded thoughtfully. "Maybe it's because the missionary crew Dmitri traveled with was all men?"

Though the explanation made sense, Sonia couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

The way those men looked at them—their eyes alight with something more than curiosity. Their expressions held an almost reverent joy, as though seeing the three of them was the most miraculous thing that had happened in years.

Why?

Sonia decided to distract herself from the gnawing discomfort by striking up a conversation with Esther as they walked toward the far end of the island. "So, what's your theory about how this island moves?"

Esther paused, tilting her head up to gaze thoughtfully at the darkness above. "Well, back when my dad and I were buying antiques from sailors who docked at D.C., someone once tried to sell us a rock that could float on water."

Sonia snorted. "A rock that floats? Sounds like you got scammed."

Esther shook her head earnestly. "It really did float. We were so surprised we ended up running a bunch of experiments on it to figure out why."

"And? What did you find out? How does a rock float?" Sonia asked, half intrigued, half skeptical.

"After some research and comparing it to old texts, my father discovered it was pumice," Esther began with the kind of enthusiasm that made her explanations feel like storytelling. "Pumice is a volcanic rock formed when lava cools rapidly upon contact with water. This rapid cooling traps tiny air bubbles inside the rock, making it porous. Because of this, its density is lower than water's, which allows it to float."

Sonia frowned slightly, her confusion deepening. "Density?"

Esther, undeterred, launched into an explanation. "It's a scientific term. In this case, we used it to compare the mass of an object to the mass of water. If an object is denser than water, it sinks. But if it's less dense, like wood, for example, it floats."

Seeing the blank look on Sonia's face, Esther quickly simplified her words. "Basically, pumice has lots of tiny air pockets, so it floats."

"Ah, got it," Sonia said, finally grasping the concept. But why can't you explain it like this from the start? "And how does that relate to this island?"

Esther turned to her with a knowing smile. "What if this island formed through the same process as pumice? What if it's made of volcanic rock that's buoyant enough to float?"

The implications of Esther's theory hit Sonia like a wave. "You're saying this entire island floats on water?!"

"Exactly!" Esther said, her excitement growing. "Of course, the pumice rock I had back then was much smaller than this island, but think about it. A single plank of wood floats just like an entire wooden warship does, doesn't it? And if we apply that concept here, everything suddenly makes sense! Dmitri's story about finding this island in the eastern seas, the reports of changing landscapes, and how the island appeared here out of nowhere—all of it fits!"

Sonia found herself stunned into silence. It did make sense, she realized, and she felt a newfound admiration for the blonde-haired girl beside her. All of this—her knowledge, her deductive reasoning—stemmed from a simple desire to understand why a single rock floated on water.

The relentless curiosity and determination were extraordinary.

"That's why I need to examine the other side of the island," Esther said, her voice brimming with purpose. "This side is covered with moss and algae, but I need to see the actual surface of the island before I can confirm my theory."

She moved ahead, her steps confident and determined, and Sonia found herself making a silent vow.

She would help Esther solve this mystery, no matter what it took.

Because she was the same.

She couldn't let a question go unanswered.

No matter the risks, Sonia knew she'd follow the young girl's lead until they uncovered the truth.

…

As they ventured deeper into the town, now on the side facing the channel blocked by this mysterious island, the surroundings grew more decrepit with each step. The makeshift homes around them seemed older, more dilapidated, their crude wooden frames sagging under the weight of time and neglect. Torches and lanterns became sparse, leaving long, dark shadows that danced like specters in the narrow alleyways.

Sonia's unease deepened as she noticed figures lying motionless inside wooden shacks, their gaunt bodies exposed and swarmed by buzzing flies. Others muttered incoherently, scratching at wooden walls until their nails broke or bleeding fingers smeared the planks.

Even those walking past them were no better. Most were shirtless, their skin mottled with wounds or infections. Sonia flinched as she saw one man scratching his neck so furiously that rivulets of blood ran down his chest.

If this was the paradise Dimitri claimed it to be, why did its people live in such misery?

Then, it struck her—like a cold knife down her spine.

The strange sensation that had prickled at her since they entered the town wasn't just unease. It was the oppressive, uncanny silence.

For a settlement this large, the absence of conversation, laughter, or even ordinary human chatter was chilling.

This entire island was cloaked in an unnatural, suffocating stillness.

She prayed silently for them to pass through this part of the town quickly, to reach the other shore and the answers they sought. But just as they were nearing the edge of the darkened streets, a low whisper from Rain froze her in place.

"Someone's following us."

Her entire body tensed. "Don't look back," Rain added quickly, his voice a careful hush.

Esther's voice wavered as she spoke, fear clear in her tone. "If we turn the corner ahead, we should make it out of town."

Without hesitation, they moved as a group, stepping into a side alley. To their relief, the passage opened into a wide cobblestone street leading straight to the shore.

The sight before them was starkly different from the decay they'd left behind. The road was flanked by evenly spaced torches, their light reflecting off the ink-black sea beyond. At the end of the street, a long pier stretched out over the water, crowned by a massive crane. Its iron chains hung heavily, their rusted lengths trailing into the murky depths below.

But any hope of freedom was crushed when they saw what blocked their path.

A group of ten men stood in a line at the street's end, armed with crude melee weapons. Sonia recognized them immediately—they were the same island warriors who had confronted Holland earlier.

And at their forefront, as calm and composed as ever, stood Dimitri. He greeted them with that same enigmatic smile, his face illuminated by the torchlight.

"Welcome, honored guests," he said in his gravelly, accented voice, his words delivered in New Soviet.

"Finally, you've come to me, as the Sun God intended."

Sonia's heart dropped as she spun around to check their rear. Another group, equal in number, had closed off the alleyway they'd just emerged from.

They were trapped.

The gap to the front was about ten meters, the one behind barely five. On both sides, the wooden walls of the surrounding buildings rose high, offering no escape.

No exits.

Nowhere to run.

The group of warriors stood ten meters ahead, while those at their rear closed in to a mere five meters. On either side, the wooden walls of the buildings loomed, sealing off any possibility of escape.

"It's been far too long since we last welcomed guests." Dimitri began, his voice calm yet laden with a foreboding weight. "I must apologize that our reception may not meet your expectations. Truthfully, our traditions demand that we offer food and festivities until you're lulled into a peaceful slumber." He sighed, a note of regret in his tone. "But alas, time is no longer a luxury we can afford."

He turned to the two warriors flanking him, their figures shadowed against the flickering light of the torches. "Take them. Ensure they endure as little pain as possible."

Without hesitation, the two warriors surged forward. One carried a heavy iron club; the other brandished a long machete, its blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light.

In a swift motion, Sonia yanked Esther behind her, positioning herself protectively between the younger girl and the advancing danger. Before she could formulate a plan, Rain stepped forward, placing himself as the first line of defense.

The boy's movements were deliberate and practiced. With a fluid flick of his hand, he loosened the strap holding his katana's sheath, letting it slide smoothly to his waist. His grip on the hilt was steady, his stance unwavering.

The first warrior reached him, his massive frame dwarfing Rain's leaner figure. The difference in size was stark—a towering wall of muscle bearing down on a calm, resolute opponent.

Rain was no taller than Esther and even shorter than Sonia. How could anyone expect him to stand a chance?

As Sonia grappled with a sense of helplessness, the warrior swung his iron club in a brutal arc from the left, aiming for the side of Rain's head.

In a single fluid motion, Rain raised the scabbard of his katana at an angle, intercepting the strike. The impact resounded through the narrow alley, a metallic clang cutting through the oppressive silence of the island.

Before the vibrations of the clash had even faded, Rain used the recoil to fling the scabbard off to his right, crouching low as he unsheathed his blade in a sweeping motion. His counterattack was seamless and deadly.

A guttural cry of shock escaped the warrior as blood and viscera spilled from the gash that tore through his midsection. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.

The second warrior was already closing in from the right, his machete raised high. Rain sidestepped deftly, his movements precise, and brought his blade up horizontally to meet the descending attacker's arm.

The force of the machete's swing was immense, and though its wielder realized his mistake too late, he couldn't halt the momentum. The katana's edge sliced cleanly through his wrist, severing his hand entirely.

Before the warrior could scream, Rain pivoted, his blade slashing upward in a merciless arc before reversing direction to rest by his side. The man's other hand flew to his throat in a futile attempt to stem the torrent of blood pouring from the severed windpipe. His body crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.

Silence reclaimed the alley, broken only by the gasps of Esther and Sonia, their wide eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and disbelief. Even the remaining warriors, who had moments ago exuded confidence, froze in stunned hesitation.

Sonia glanced at Dimitri and saw that his composed smile had vanished, replaced by a scowl of fury.

"Seize them!" Dimitri roared, his voice reverberating with anger.

The remaining armed islanders surged forward as one, both from the alley's entrance and its exit.

"Get down!" Rain shouted over the cacophony of war cries. Sonia and Esther immediately ducked low, their instincts taking over.

Sonia watched as Rain slashed his katana in a horizontal sweep, its extended reach cutting through the neck of an islander armed with a rake. As the man's headless body collapsed, Rain seized the front of his lifeless shirt and hurled the corpse backward into the group rushing in from the alley's entrance. The sudden obstruction sent several attackers stumbling, their curses and cries filling the air.

Rain spun on his heel, momentarily turning his attention from the rear. He raised his katana just in time to block the blade of another islander charging from the front. The impact pushed him back, but he recovered swiftly, shifting his focus to a third assailant closing in from the left.

This one wielded a hatchet, swinging it in a wild, clumsy arc. Rain struck the wooden handle mid-swing, and the force of his katana's edge splintered the shaft with a loud crack. The head of the hatchet spun through the air, whizzing past Sonia's ear to lodge itself into the wall mere inches from her head.

She barely registered the near brush with death, the axe head embedding itself mere centimeters from her face. She didn't flinch at the blood spattering across her cheeks. She paid no mind to the boy fighting desperately in front of her, his every movement a wager on their lives. Nor did she focus on the trembling, tear-stricken blonde girl cowering behind her.

Something inexplicable had taken hold of Sonia. Perhaps it was the severity of the situation, or some surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Whatever it was, she felt unnaturally calm, detached, as though the events unfolding around her were distant, an out-of-body experience she simply observed.

She saw Rain twist his body, narrowly dodging the tip of a blade that grazed the hair at the side of his head. A few strands of black fluttered to the ground, glinting momentarily in the dim torchlight, as if the moment slowed just for her to witness.

She watched as the island warriors swung their crude weapons at him with fury, only for their attacks to be deflected, dodged, or countered. Their movements were clumsy, one step too slow. It was obvious they lacked the training to keep up with him. Yet their sheer numbers granted them an undeniable advantage.

Her eyes swept over the scattered bodies littering the narrow alley. Her mind processed everything in fragments of data, assembling them into clear conclusions in the span of mere heartbeats.

The confined space of the alley limited how many could attack Rain simultaneously, giving him a fighting chance to manage the onslaught. But even with his skill, he couldn't fight indefinitely. And no matter how well he held his own, he couldn't protect both her and Esther while doing so.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed movement. One of the warriors broke off from the others, his focus shifting from Rain to Esther. He surged forward, a wooden plank raised high above his head, aiming to strike the blonde girl crouched behind Sonia.

She felt her mind expand into an eerie clarity, her thoughts stretching time.

What should she do?

What would Esther do?

In that fleeting instant, Sonia acted on instinct. She threw her arms around Esther, pulling the younger girl tightly to her chest. With a swift, deliberate movement, she turned, putting herself between Esther and the incoming attack.

And then the force of the blow crashed down on her head.

The world shattered into darkness.

…

Hearing was the first sense to return.

Sonia could hear the clash of steel, the screams of the wounded, the guttural roars and shouted curses. The sickening sound of liquid splattering onto the ground accompanied the unmistakable shriek of metal slicing through flesh.

The sounds grew fainter, as though they were being pulled away into the distance.

No. It wasn't the sounds that were retreating—it was her.

The scrape of dirt and gravel dragging beneath her back, combined with a relentless pull on her ankles, brought the realization crashing down. She was being dragged away from the chaos.

She tried to open her eyes, to move her limbs, to cry out.

Nothing.

It was as if she were trapped within the body of someone else, her mind fully aware yet utterly unable to command her own movements.

The dull, throbbing ache at the back of her skull erupted into sharp pain with every jarring pull. Warm, viscous liquid dripped down her jawline, pooling near her collarbone.

"Belief makes me who I am. Belief makes you who you are," a raspy, familiar voice murmured from somewhere near her feet.

Dimitri.

Her sluggish mind grappled with the implications. He was dragging her—where? And more importantly, why?

Panic surged, raw and uncontrollable. The loss of agency over her own body, the complete vulnerability to whatever came next—it was a terror she had never experienced before.

The relentless tug at her ankles shifted direction. No longer horizontal, her body was being pulled upward at an angle. The rough edges of wooden steps pressed and scraped against her back as she was dragged over them.

Her head struck each step with a sickening thud, the impact amplifying the already searing pain in her skull.

The world around her began to fade again, darkness creeping in at the edges of her mind.

And still, Dimitri's voice echoed, faint and haunting, through the chaos of her thoughts:

"Belief makes us all."

…

The first thing Sonia registered was the sound of chains, metallic links clinking and scraping as they tightened around her ankles.

"Belief makes me who I am. Belief makes you who you are."

Dimitri's raspy, sermon-like voice accompanied the eerie noise. Slowly, Sonia forced her eyes open, only to realize she could barely open them halfway.

Her vision was upside down, framing the somber figure of Dimitri with the pitch-black sea looming overhead, taking the place of a cave ceiling.

No, that wasn't right. She wasn't seeing the world upside down—the world was right-side up. She was the one hanging inverted.

Panic surged as Sonia tried to move, only to find her limbs restrained. The heavy chains coiled around her body bit into her skin, holding her firmly in place.

"Stay calm, little one," Dimitri murmured in a soft, almost soothing tone. He was meticulously fastening the final loop of the chain around her ankles.

"What are you doing?" Sonia's voice cracked, hoarse and strained, barely audible even to herself. She realized she'd spoken in Underrican, a mistake she quickly corrected, repeating the question in New Soviet with a louder, steadier voice.

Dimitri paused, his weathered face creasing in surprise. "You're Soviet-born, little one?"

The question caught her off guard. She'd never truly considered it before. Her grandfather had been Soviet, but her parents had raised her as an Underrican. Did that make her a mix of both? A hybrid?

But this was hardly the time for identity crises.

"Let me go!" she demanded, summoning all the force her battered voice could muster.

"I wish there were another way," Dimitri replied wistfully, his tone tinged with regret. "A way to end all the suffering, all the sorrow in this world. But there isn't. Not one that the gods will grant us."

His hands moved deftly, fastening a firefly lantern to the chain around her torso. The sudden flare of its warm, flickering glow stung her eyes, and she squinted instinctively.

Was he mad? The thought crossed her mind, unbidden.

"It's just like that day," Dimitri mused, his voice distant as he seemed to look past her, to the chaos unfolding in the distance.

The clash of battle still echoed faintly in the air.

Sonia's heart skipped a beat. If the fighting continued, it meant that he—Rain—hadn't fallen yet. And if Rain was still fighting, there was a chance Esther was still safe.

The thought brought a fleeting wave of relief.

"I sat down that day, amidst the bloodshed and the screams. I prayed, pleaded with the Sun God to intervene, to stop the madness. I begged for the light to return to this wretched world, to guide us back to the paradise we had lost." Dimitri's expression darkened, his eyes heavy with sorrow.

"But nothing happened," he continued, his voice hollow. "The fighting went on. My comrades devoured the flesh of the dead to survive, and those still alive sharpened their knives for the next victim. That was when I realized—miracles do not come to those who wait."

His grip on the chain tightened.

"I had to act. When one of my own, a man I called a brother, came at me with a blade, I smashed a lantern into his head. The oil caught fire, and he burned as he screamed. He fell overboard, into the black depths."

Dimitri's gaze grew distant, as if peering into the abyss of his memories.

"And that… that was when this island rose from the sea."

"That was when I understood," Dimitri continued, his tone reverent and unyielding, "that the only way to make the gods listen is through sacrifice. To offer something of value to them. That is why the Sun God granted me this paradise, this heaven on earth, in return for my offering."

As his words sank in, a fresh wave of terror washed over Sonia.

"You call that squalid, starving existence back there a paradise?" she snapped, her voice raw with both fear and fury. "Those people are barely clinging to life!"

Dimitri shook his head slowly, as if pitying her ignorance. "We lived peacefully after the first miracle," he said. "I nearly forgot the horrors of the ship. But then... the fish around the island began to disappear. Hunger returned, gnawing at our stomachs, and I feared the past would repeat itself. That was when I realized I had to make another offering."

Sonia's stomach churned as his meaning became clear.

"I took the weakest among us," Dimitri said, his voice chillingly calm, as though recounting an unfortunate necessity rather than an atrocity. "And again, a miracle occurred. The island moved, drifting to waters teeming with fish. We no longer starved. From that moment, we knew the Sun God was here, watching over this island."

He paused, his gaze distant, lost in his conviction. "We stopped yearning for the mainland, for its wars and its slaughter. Instead, we embraced our role as stewards of this sanctuary. When ships arrived, we found another solution—using their crew as offerings. We would keep them until the fish began to dwindle, then..."

His voice trailed off, leaving Sonia to imagine the rest. Her mind conjured images of chains, screams, and despair, all under the guise of devotion.

"Then you came," Dimitri said, his tone lighter now, as if the mere fact of their arrival justified his every action. "As the Sun God willed it, you arrived just in time. We have been stranded here for a month, and hunger has begun to claw at us once more."

"You're insane!" Sonia spat, the words a desperate lash against the rising tide of dread inside her. "There's no god! You're killing innocent people for nothing!"

Dimitri didn't flinch at her outburst. Instead, he stepped back, his expression serene as he fastened the final firefly lantern to her chain. The warm, flickering light illuminated his face, casting deep shadows in the hollows of his cheeks.

"Belief," he murmured, his voice low and almost tender, "makes me who I am. And belief makes you who you are."

Sonia stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest, as he raised his hands in a gesture of finality.

"You will bring us salvation." 

"Stop justifying it with your so-called beliefs!" Sonia hissed through gritted teeth, thrashing against the chains that bound her. "What you're doing is just the same killing you claim to have escaped from!"

"The murder of one to save an entire island," Dimitri replied, his voice calm, as though he were explaining a fundamental truth, "is very different from slaughtering nations over oil." The eerie smile crept back onto his face as his hand reached for a lever beside him—a smile of unshaken conviction, untainted by guilt.

"And you, child," he asked softly, "what do you believe in?"

Sonia's retort died in her throat as Dimitri pulled the lever.

Her body plummeted.

The chain snapped taut, yanking her downward. She slammed into the surface of the black sea below, the cold consuming her as she was pulled beneath the waves.

The shock of the impact stole what little air she had left. She opened her mouth instinctively, but nothing came except an eruption of precious bubbles that fled upward, toward a world she could no longer reach.

Down she sank, faster and faster. The weight at the end of the chain dragged her deeper, the bubbles racing past her, defying gravity.

Her descent finally stopped.

Sonia twisted and writhed, desperate to break free, but the chains held her fast. She strained her burning lungs, her entire body rebelling against her will to resist.

The dim glow of the firefly lanterns fixed to the chains illuminated only the immediate space around her. Beyond that light, there was nothing but an impenetrable black void.

This is how I die.

Here.

In this cold, dark abyss.

The realization hit her harder than the impact with the water. Her mind screamed for survival, but her body could no longer obey. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion, her vision dimming as her lungs convulsed for air she could not reach.

Her will faltered as the instinctive need to breathe overpowered her resolve.

Just as her consciousness started to slip away,

She saw it.

Perhaps her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, or maybe it was the prolonged lack of oxygen playing tricks on her mind—Sonia couldn't tell.

But she saw the wall of the cavern.

Through the faint, flickering light of the firefly lanterns, she could make out the smooth, curved surface of the wall, covered in moss and algae. It was the same type of wall she had seen through the Washington's glass window.

Except this wall had a massive opening—a yawning cave carved deep into the earth.

And within the abyss of that cave, something was moving.

It was colossal, a shadow so vast it seemed to shift the water itself as it emerged. Its two eyes, larger than Sonia herself, gleamed faintly in the lantern's light, reflecting the glow like twin stars in the abyss. Its slick, smooth skin was dotted with patches of algae, swaying gently with its every movement.

Amidst the hazy fog of her fading consciousness, one thought crystallized in her mind:

The road they had seen stretching across the seagrass fields.

The island that could move at will.

The ritual of sinking sacrifices to "shift" the island.

At last, Sonia understood the true nature of this place.

This island wasn't an island at all.

If only Esther could see what I'm seeing now.

She would be so jealous.

A smile crept onto Sonia's lips without her realizing it.

And then, as the god of this island opened its cavernous maw, stretching wider than anything she could have imagined, her world went black.

…

Pressure on her chest forced Sonia to gasp for air, expelling a torrent of water from her lungs.

"She's alive!" a familiar voice cried out.

When Sonia opened her heavy eyelids, the first thing she saw was the tear-streaked face of a blonde-haired girl, her expression a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Sonia tried to speak, but all that came out was a fit of coughing as more water spluttered from her mouth.

"You just came back from the brink of death—take it easy," Esther said, her smile trembling with relief.

"What happened?" Sonia croaked at last, her voice raspy and strained.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and found herself surrounded by a crowd of people, all watching her with varying expressions of concern, curiosity, and unease.

"Something stupid you dragged yourself into, that's what," Hector grumbled, his brows furrowed deeply, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

"Give it a rest, Hector," Matthew chided, glancing at him reproachfully. "It wasn't her fault."

"Yeah, it was yours," Hector shot back, undeterred.

"No, it's my fault," Arthur interjected from the other side of the circle, his face etched with guilt. "If I'd followed them to act as a proper translator, there wouldn't have been any misunderstandings with the islanders in the first place."

As the trio began bickering over whose fault it was, Holland crouched down in front of Sonia, his ever-calm demeanor unshaken.

"Can you walk?" he asked in his usual, measured tone.

Sonia nodded and tried to get to her feet, but her legs buckled beneath her almost immediately.

Before she could hit the ground, a pair of steady hands caught her. Rain, his messy black hair matted with dried blood, slid under her left arm and hoisted her up with ease.

"Sonia! Don't push yourself!" Esther scolded, rushing to support her other side.

Sonia glanced at Rain's face—his expression blank, unreadable, even as blood streaked across his features. He turned his gaze away when their eyes met, his grip on her arm steady but detached.

"Thanks," Sonia murmured, her voice barely audible.

Rain gave a small nod, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground ahead.

"Let's head back to the ship," Holland said, rising to his full height and striding forward, signaling the group to follow.

As they walked along the shoreline, Sonia turned to Esther, a flicker of wry amusement crossing her face.

"I figured out the mystery of this island," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of weariness and pride.

Esther's eyes lit up instantly. "My pumice stone theory was right, wasn't it?"

Sonia shook her head, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I saw."

Esther stared at her, bewildered but curious, as if trying to read the story hidden in Sonia's cryptic words.

The group continued their trek toward the Washington, its hulking silhouette looming against the black waters, standing as a steadfast sanctuary amidst the chaos they were leaving behind.

Behind them, the village burned, flames devouring the crude wooden structures, while the lifeless bodies of the islanders lay strewn across the smoldering ground—a grim testament to the price of their survival.