Chapter Ten A

ONCE UPON THE PACIFIC L

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CHAPTER TEN A: INTO THE FORGOTTEN TIDES

The first thing he noticed was the silence.

Not just the absence of noise — but the presence of silence. A deep, dense stillness that pressed against his chest like a held breath.

The waves no longer lapped.

The wind no longer whispered.

The ocean had stopped.

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Milo stood at the edge of the boat, looking over the side.

No ripple.

No reflection.

Just a vast, glassy expanse… stretching into nothing.

It was as if he were sailing on a painted sea — a dream stitched into reality.

He checked his compass.

Spinning.

The radio?

Dead. No static. Not even a crackle.

The stars above… wrong.

They were too bright. Too close.

Some he didn't recognize at all — constellations like broken runes, carved by a different sky.

> "Where am I?" he whispered.

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A Change in the Air

He felt it in his bones before he saw it — a thinning of the veil.

The air shimmered like heat waves.

The boat moved without wind.

Ahead, a shape began to form — not land, not sky… something in-between.

It pulsed like a memory, and every heartbeat it gave off sent chills up his spine.

> "You've crossed over," the voice said softly.

It wasn't Eliora.

It wasn't even a voice, really.

It was the ocean itself.

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Stepping Ashore

The boat stopped with a whisper.

Not a jerk, not a crash. Just stillness.

He stepped onto the sand, but it didn't feel like sand.

It felt… like velvet soaked in time.

There were no footprints.

The air was warm — but not alive.

All around him, ruins.

Stone columns twisted like vines. Broken arches. Moss that glowed faintly in twilight.

And in the center — a lantern.

Ancient. Rusted. Still burning with a soft, blue flame.

He approached it.

Carved into the base, in a language both alien and familiar:

> "Only those who've lost everything may see the truth."

He touched it.

And the world rippled.

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Visions of What Was

The island breathed.

Shadows moved — not threatening, but watching.

Images flickered in the mist — a girl dancing with fireflies, a boy sketching on a shore, a kiss beneath a blood moon…

Eliora.

And then… the lantern flickered.

> "You're close now, Milo," her voice said.

"But the tide remembers more than you do…"

He turned.

And saw himself — younger, hopeful, holding Eliora's hand… and walking into the heart of the island.

But he wasn't following them.

He was becoming the memory.

To be continued....

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