Voyage to Lagooncrest Isle

The Early Departure

Brendon stood at the edge of the dock, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, as the early morning breeze rolled in from the sea. The salty air mixed with the faint scent of damp wood from the dock's aging planks. The port was alive, even at this hour—dock workers moved with practiced efficiency, unloading crates from cargo ships and securing ropes to moor them in place.

The passenger ship he was about to board, The Silver Gull, wasn't the most luxurious vessel, but it looked sturdy enough for the forty-minute trip to Lagooncrest Isle. It had two decks, with a small enclosed cabin area for passengers who wanted to stay inside. The crew bustled about, preparing for departure, while a handful of other passengers waited in line to board.

Brendon rolled his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his travel bag as he pulled out his phone. Before shutting it off for the trip, he sent a quick WhatsApp message to Robert.

Brendon:

"Don't forget to update me about Amelia's case. Plus, if you get the chance, please take a picture of Scott's face. I wanna see how his face looks after getting into a case like this just after his birthday. 😆😆😆"

Robert was still offline.

Figures. The guy was probably still asleep, nursing a hangover after last night's party.

Brendon smirked to himself before powering down his phone and slipping it into his coat pocket. No distractions for the next forty minutes.

As he approached the boarding ramp, an older crew member, dressed in a navy-blue uniform with Silver Gull embroidered on the chest, gave him a once-over. "Passenger or cargo?" the man asked, his voice gruff.

Brendon exhaled a puff of air. "Passenger."

"Destination?"

"Lagooncrest Isle."

The crew member grunted, marking something on a clipboard before stepping aside. "Head on in. We depart in ten minutes."

Brendon nodded and stepped onto the deck.

The ship wasn't crowded. Aside from him, there were only a handful of passengers—a few fishermen carrying crates of supplies, an elderly couple sitting on a bench near the railings, and a businessman already buried in his laptop at one of the cabin's small tables.

Brendon opted for solitude. He walked past the enclosed cabin area and made his way to the upper deck, where the morning air was fresher and the view was better. He leaned against the railing, watching as the first light of dawn painted the sky in soft shades of pink and orange. The ocean stretched endlessly before him, calm and undisturbed.

A few seagulls circled overhead, their cries sharp against the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the hull. The port of Ridgecliff, with its towering cranes and bustling workers, gradually shrank in the distance as the ship prepared to set sail.

A faint, familiar sensation stirred in Brendon's chest.

Something about this moment—the quiet rocking of the ship, the scent of salt in the air—felt almost nostalgic.

For a brief second, he was a kid again. A little boy standing on the edge of a dock, staring out at the sea, wondering where the horizon led.

His fingers unconsciously brushed against his inner coat pocket, where the old, rusted compass rested.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of it.

Not the time for memories.

The ship's horn bellowed, signaling their departure. The engines rumbled beneath the deck, and slowly, The Silver Gull pulled away from the dock, leaving Ridgecliff behind.

Brendon took one last glance at the city before turning away and heading toward his cabin.

For the next forty minutes, he would be alone with his thoughts.

---

Memories Within a Rusty Compass

After a while being bored by sightseeing Brendon decides to go in his cabin.

Once inside his assigned cabin, Brendon tossed his bag onto the small bed and took a seat by the window. The cabin was simple—just a bed, a wooden chair, and a desk. The gentle creaking of the ship's hull accompanied the rhythmic crashing of the waves outside.

He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out an old, rusted compass. The once-polished brass casing was now dull and scratched, and the glass covering the needle had a noticeable crack running across it.

Brendon's thumb ran over the surface absentmindedly.

This old thing…

He leaned back, allowing himself to drift into memories long buried in the back of his mind.

He was just a little kid then. No mother. No father. No direction.

Brendon doesn't remember which town or city it was but indeed it was before moving to London, entering into crime life. Maybe it was because of that man he choose such path. The cold streets had no sympathy, and food wasn't something freely given. He had stolen, scavenged, and survived by sheer instinct alone.

Then one day, he met him.

A street thief, an old rogue Hyena with grizzled fur and a sharp wit, who once had been a captain of the sea before misfortune had stripped him of his title.

The man—Captain Radley—had found him rummaging through discarded scraps behind a tavern. Instead of turning him away or beating him like most people did, he crouched down and held out his hand.

"You ain't got a home, huh? Guess that makes two of us."

Brendon had been wary at first, but the man didn't ask for anything in return. He just… took him in. Taught him how to survive. Taught him how to fight. Even taught him that if you need to survive just forget morality but never hurt others for no reason. If you can help them while surviving well that will be your achievement.

And before he vanished from Brendon's life, he had left him this compass.

"A man without direction is already lost, Brendon. Keep this close, and maybe one day, you'll figure out where you're meant to go."

Brendon's fingers tightened around the old relic.

Radley had been gone for years, but Brendon never let go of the compass. It was the only real piece of his past he had left.

A knock on the cabin door snapped him back to the present.

"Sir, we'll be arriving at Lagooncrest Isle in fifteen minutes," a crew member informed him from the hallway.

Brendon sighed, slipping the compass back into his pocket. "Got it."

---

Arrival at Lagooncrest Isle

As the ship docked, Brendon stepped off, lighting a cigarette as he took in the sight before him.

Lagooncrest Isle had a strange, almost eerie charm. The town wasn't particularly large, but it had an old-world feel—narrow cobblestone streets, rustic buildings with faded paint, and the faint scent of damp earth mixed with the salt in the air. The fog rolling in from the sea gave it an almost dreamlike quality.

More than that, though, something else felt off.

As he made his way toward the town center, he began to notice something unusual. The people.

In most places like Ridgecliff, the population was a mix—humans, anthros, and hybrids. The general ratio was around 3:3:1. But here?

He had already passed a dozen hybrids within his first five minutes of walking. More than usual. Way more.

A fox hybrid behind a fish stall, a deer hybrid pulling a cart, a wolf hybrid casually chatting with an otter anthro near a bakery.

The number of hybrids wasn't just higher than average—it was significantly higher.

Strange.

Brendon took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling thoughtfully.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. His first stop was the police station.

---

Meeting Officer Liam Mayers

After asking a few locals for directions, Brendon finally arrived at the Lagooncrest Isle Police Station.

The station was smaller than the one back in Ridgecliff, but it was still well-kept. A few officers were inside, going about their usual routines.

Behind the front desk stood a young officer, around his mid-twenties, with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes. His badge read Liam Mayers.

Before Brendon could say anything, the officer perked up.

"Oh! Hey, you must be the guy from Ridgecliff! Brendon, right?"

Brendon raised an eyebrow. "News travels fast."

Liam grinned. "Not really. The chief told me to expect someone. But man, I gotta say, you look exactly like how people describe you—tall, cool looking but too much serious about work. I should give you a opinion, sometimes just chill, dude."

Brendon sighed. "Fantastic. Can I talk to someone with fewer opinions?"

Liam chuckled. "Nope! You're stuck with me, bud. Come on, let's talk in the back."

Brendon followed him to a small office space, where Liam offered him a seat.

"So," Brendon started, leaning forward, "I need some information."

Liam nodded, spinning a pen between his fingers. "Shoot."

"A tourist named Natasha called me yesterday, saying she was kidnapped. I haven't been able to reach her since. Any similar incidents lately?"

Liam frowned. "Hmm… not that I've heard of. Kidnappings aren't common here, but…" He trailed off, rubbing his chin.

Brendon narrowed his eyes. "But what?"

"Well…" Liam hesitated. "There have been reports of people disappearing over the past few months. Mostly humans, actually. The thing is, they don't go missing in the usual way. No ransom notes. No bodies. Just… gone. And then, weirdly enough, some of them come back weeks later."

Brendon's grip on his cigarette tightened. "And?"

"And they don't remember anything about what happened to them."

That caught Brendon's attention. He tapped the ash from his cigarette into the nearby tray. "So they just vanish and reappear, memory wiped?"

Liam nodded. "Yep. And here's the creepy part—none of them ever file a report or try to investigate what happened to them. Almost like they don't want to."

Brendon exhaled slowly. "You're telling me that people disappear, reappear, and act like nothing happened?"

Liam shrugged. "Pretty much. Weird, right?"

Brendon's mind was already racing.

Natasha's call. The unusually high hybrid population. The disappearances.

Something wasn't right about Lagooncrest Isle.

And he had a feeling this was only the beginning.