The Water Remembers

“Some places don’t hide their secrets—they show them, again and again, until you finally realise you're part of them too.”

As I tended to the campfire, lost in the haze of smoke and thought, my hands moved mechanically—feeding twigs to the flames, watching them curl and crackle as if the fire could somehow burn away the gnawing anxiety in my chest. My gaze kept drifting to the ridge, silently willing Chris and Kain to reappear. Every passing minute without word from them only deepened the pit of unease coiled in my stomach.

Then, out of the periphery, I caught movement—Paul, striding toward me with purpose. One look at his face, and my body tensed. Something was wrong. Paul was usually unflappable, a quiet source of composure. But not now. His jaw was tight, his brows drawn together in a stern crease, and his steps struck the ground with more force than necessary, as though he was barely containing whatever urgency drove him.

"Karen, I need you to go and get Chris and Kain from the lagoon," he said without preamble, his tone clipped but calm—a voice honed for crises. Yet beneath the surface, I could hear it: the faint tremble of worry, the kind that only slips through when something truly serious is at stake. "We need everyone back at camp and accounted for – it looks like Joel is missing!"

For a second, I just stood there, the air sucked from my lungs. Joel. Missing. My brain scrambled to catch up, to grasp the implications. The campfire’s crackle dulled, as though the world had muted itself under the weight of those words.

Missing.

Not just late or off sulking somewhere. Gone. Unaccounted for. Alone in a place that had already proven it could kill.

A flare of cold fear surged through me, slicing through the numbness. Joel might not have been the most reliable or popular presence among us, but that didn’t matter now. No one deserved to vanish into the unknown of Clivilius. Not with the creatures that prowled the night. Not with the land itself seemingly steeped in secrets and danger.

"I'll go right now," I said, the words solid despite the rising tide inside me. The urgency in Paul’s eyes mirrored my own, and there was no room for delay, no time for questions or hesitation. I turned on my heel, already scanning the path I’d need to retrace toward the lagoon.

My breath was tight in my chest, but my steps were fast and focused. Whatever had happened—whatever was happening—there was no more room for waiting. We needed everyone. Together. Safe. Or as close to safe as this place would ever allow.

From my vantage point atop the dune that overlooked the lagoon, I shaded my eyes against the stark glare of the morning sun and called out. “Chris! Kain!” The names rang out, loud and sharp, laced with the urgency coiling tight in my chest. It wasn’t just a call—it was a summons fuelled by worry, a plea to break the unsettling calm that draped the lagoon like a shroud.

The shimmering water below reflected the sunlight in ripples of dazzling brilliance, but the peaceful facade only made my unease grow sharper. My eyes combed the shoreline, narrowing as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

Kain lay stretched along the bank, barely moving—a limp figure too still for comfort. At first, I feared the worst, my breath catching. But then I saw the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, at least. Resting. Recovering, perhaps. Relief mixed with apprehension.

But Chris—Chris was digging.

At first I thought my eyes deceived me, the heat haze playing tricks with distance and shadow. But no. There he was, crouched low beside the lagoon, scooping handfuls of dirt, his body hunched in concentration. My confusion flared into a sharp edge of frustration. What the hell was he doing? Joel was missing. The camp was in disarray. And Chris was here, silently sifting through soil like it was the most pressing task in the world.

My boots slipped and skidded on the slope as I descended the dune, the loose sand dragging at my steps like it, too, wanted to delay me. The heat pressed down like a weight on my shoulders, sweat beading at my temples and trickling down my spine as I quickened my pace.

By the time I reached the shoreline, my breath was shallow, my heart thudding not just from exertion, but from the anxious thoughts tumbling through my mind. Something felt off—more than just the sight of Chris digging. There was a tension in the air, a subtle wrongness, like a painting that had been tilted just slightly askew. And I was about to step into its frame.

"Have either of you seen Joel out here?" I asked immediately, not bothering with pleasantries. My voice cracked through the warm air, sharp with urgency, as my eyes swept the lagoon’s perimeter. Every shadow, every ripple along the shoreline sparked false hope before fading into more empty nothing.

Chris looked up, his hands still dusty from his inexplicable digging, confusion clouding his features. He shook his head, slow and deliberate. "No," he replied, the tension in his voice betraying a growing unease. "It's just been Kain and I since you left us earlier."

Kain shifted where he lay, propping himself up on his elbows, his brow furrowed as he cast his thoughts backwards. "I don't think I've seen him since dinner last night," he murmured, his voice carrying the hesitation of someone trying to ignore the gnawing suspicion that something was very wrong. His eyes flicked nervously between us. "Is everything okay?"

I hesitated. The weight of the words felt heavier than they should have. "It appears that Joel is missing," I said at last.

Kain immediately attempted to rise, gritting his teeth as pain surged through his leg. I moved without thinking, stepping forward to catch him before he collapsed. My hands found his arms, steadying him as his face twisted into a grimace. His body trembled with the effort.

"How is your leg doing?" I asked gently, scanning the way his foot hung slightly limp, noting the tight lines of pain around his mouth.

"It's still really painful," he admitted through clenched teeth, the words clipped short by the discomfort etched deep in his bones.

I gave a brief nod, sympathetic but focused. “Come on,” I said firmly, my voice low and urgent. “We need to get back to camp. Paul’s requested that everyone gather at the campfire.”

Chris rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his palms, his confusion plain. "Why the rush?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?”

“Just come on,” I snapped, sharper than intended, waving them forward. The tension was too high, the stakes too uncertain. “We need to find Joel.”

The air seemed to tighten around us, the once serene lagoon now a place of unease and unspoken fears. We moved quickly, the silence between us punctuated only by Kain’s uneven breathing and the crunch of our footsteps in the sand.

As we trudged toward the camp, the sun beating down mercilessly on our backs, I couldn't help but notice Kain’s discomfort. Every movement was a labour; each step wrung fresh tension across his face, his jaw clenched tight as he fought through the pain. His breath came in shallow bursts, and I could see the perspiration collecting at his brow, his skin pale beneath the layer of dust that clung to us all.

"Help Kain, would you," I scolded Chris, my tone sharper than intended. I was surprised—no, irritated—by his apparent obliviousness to Kain’s growing struggle. Chris had always been attentive, compassionate, but now he seemed distracted, detached somehow. Something unspoken lingered between them, an invisible rift that shifted the very rhythm of their interactions. The easy camaraderie they had once shared was gone, replaced by silence and awkward glances.

Chris blinked at my words, as though roused from a fog, then stepped closer to Kain without protest. After a brief, almost reluctant moment, he slid his arm beneath Kain’s to steady him. Kain allowed it, albeit with a stiffness that spoke more of pride than gratitude. He leaned into Chris’s side, his weight sagging heavily, but his lips remained pressed in a hard line.

The hesitation between them was subtle but undeniable. A current of tension hummed beneath the surface, its origin elusive but persistent. I watched them closely, noting the rigid way Kain held himself, the careful neutrality on Chris’s face. Something had shifted—something delicate and unspoken—and it left me with a nagging sense of apprehension.

"It's fine," Kain assured me, lifting a hand to wave me off as I instinctively moved to support his other side. There was determination in his voice, but also weariness, as if he knew his limits but refused to acknowledge them aloud. His independence was a double-edged sword—something I respected, but also worried might cost him dearly.

I held my tongue, though frustration simmered beneath my composure. Stubborn pride had its place, but here, in Clivilius, where the rules of survival were still being written, it could also be a dangerous liability.

We had barely started climbing the first dune when a loud bark shattered the relative tranquillity of our retreat. My entire body tensed. The bark echoed off the barren hillsides, sending a chill rippling down my spine. Fear prickled at the back of my neck, instinct flaring hot in my veins. Here, in this strange and unforgiving land, where nothing behaved as it should and deadly creatures moved beneath the surface of silence, even the smallest disturbance felt like a warning.

I spun toward the sound, my heart thudding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. And there—at the edge of the lagoon—stood Lois, her body taut with tension, hackles raised, barking furiously at the water. Each bark was a demand, a call to attention, as if she were trying to alert us to something none of us could see.

"I didn't know Lois was here too," I said, my voice thin with surprise, my mind struggling to place how she’d arrived without any of us noticing.

"Me neither," Chris replied, his tone tight with confusion. We exchanged a glance, the same thought crossing both our minds: how long had she been watching? And from where?

Lois barked again, this time with more urgency, her gaze fixed on the surface of the water. She wasn't just making noise—she was warning us. My stomach clenched.

"I wonder what she's found?" I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. I took a few cautious steps towards her, sand shifting treacherously underfoot, each movement requiring effort. The oppressive heat pressed down from above, and a sense of unease clawed at my insides with every step I drew closer.

Behind me, Kain’s voice cut through the tension, flat and distracted. "I think we should keep moving," he said, his tone dismissive. Likely, he was focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other, his body wracked with pain, his energy stretched too thin to spare on mystery.

I paused, glancing back at the two of them. Chris looked concerned, already adjusting Kain’s position to make the climb easier, but his eyes were on me. I could feel their hesitation like a weight pressing against my back.

"You two keep moving. I'll go and see what the problem is," I said, already moving toward Lois, something in her behaviour refusing to let me turn away.

“Karen, please be careful. We don’t need you going missing too,” Chris called after me, his voice tight with worry.

"I'm sure it's nothing," I replied, though the words tasted hollow. The truth was, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Not in Clivilius. Not after last night. Every breath I took felt heavier. Every decision felt like a gamble. As I neared Lois, the sound of her growling deepened, and the feeling in my gut—the one that had been steadily building since sunrise—twisted into something colder, sharper.

Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.

Leaving Chris and Kain to continue their slow journey back to camp, I made my way toward Lois, who stood rigid and alert at the lagoon’s edge. Her body was poised like a drawn bow, every muscle taut, eyes locked on something unseen.

"Lois!" I called out, my voice echoing strangely across the still waters. It felt jarring in the unnatural quiet, as if the sound itself had no business disturbing this secluded slice of Clivilius. The air around the lagoon was unnervingly still. It made my words sound too loud, too human.

Lois didn’t flinch at my call—instead, her barking only grew louder, sharper, as though she were trying to warn me off. Her gaze remained locked on the water, and something in her intensity made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I quickened my pace, my boots sliding slightly in the loose sand, heart thudding against my ribs with every step.

As I drew closer, her agitation became more pronounced—paws digging into the sand, a low growl rumbling from deep in her throat. The sound was primal and unsettling, the kind of noise animals made when they sensed something unnatural. I followed her line of sight, and that’s when I saw it.

The water had changed.

The once calm, crystalline surface of the lagoon was now alive with motion. Pockets of liquid twisted into delicate whirlpools, each one small and self-contained, dancing across the surface in eerie synchrony. They moved like a school of fish caught in a silent, ghostly current—never colliding, yet somehow connected. A chill traced its way down my spine.

I edged closer, each step sinking me deeper into the soft, damp sand. My eyes locked onto the strange phenomenon. The swirls weren’t just spinning—they shimmered. Iridescent flashes of colour blinked in and out, like oil on water under bright light, casting strange reflections that rippled across the lagoon’s bed.

I dropped to my knees beside Lois, her tense form bristling beside me. I reached out and laid a hand on her back, fingers curling into the thick fur at her shoulders. Her warmth grounded me, if only for a moment. But her growl never ceased. I could feel the tremor in her muscles, a barely restrained urge to bark, to flee, to fight—anything but remain still.

The whirlpools merged, then split again. Their rhythm was hypnotic, but not soothing. It was like watching something that wasn’t meant to be seen—like peeking behind a curtain never meant to be drawn. My mind reeled as if trying to grasp the logic of what I was witnessing, but it refused to settle. Something about this place was shifting, revealing a hidden layer of Clivilius that was deeper, stranger, and far more dangerous than I had imagined.

The sun glinted off the water’s surface, and the shimmering intensified, as if the lagoon itself were pulsing in response. I didn’t know whether to call for the others or run. Lois’s growl deepened beside me, and I tightened my grip on her fur, unsure whether I was trying to calm her—or myself.

In that moment, a myriad of thoughts raced through my mind, each one more perplexing than the last. Was this another aspect of Clivilius’s hidden secrets, a fragment of some greater enigma we’d only just begun to perceive? Could this be related to the soil’s bizarre properties—the way it resisted logic, absorbed wounds, seemed almost alive in its responsiveness? Or was it something more elusive, something woven into the very nature of this place? Perhaps this strange water, so pure yet capable of evoking such pain in Kain, was part of a system we barely understood—a symbiotic force of destruction and healing.

The questions piled atop one another, forming a suffocating weight of possibilities and half-formed theories. A web of mysteries stretched taut around us, tightening with each strange occurrence, with each unexplained phenomenon that Clivilius whispered into our lives. Frustration clawed at my chest, a desperate yearning to understand, to know. But I had to accept the uncomfortable truth: answers wouldn’t come swiftly. If they came at all, it would be through hardship, through persistence, and through sacrifice.

Still kneeling in the damp sand, I felt the beginnings of stiffness creeping into my legs. The mesmerising movement of the whirlpools continued, their hypnotic rhythm urging me to linger, to watch just a little longer. But I knew I couldn’t. Chris and Kain were still somewhere behind me, struggling through the heat and sand—Kain half-limping, half-dragged. They needed me.

The puzzle of the lagoon—its impossible, beautiful strangeness—would have to wait.

Reluctantly, I rose, brushing the clinging grains of wet sand from my knees. My fingers trailed across Lois’s back one last time. She turned her head slightly, locking eyes with me. There was something unnerving in her stare—not fear, not agitation. It was... comprehension. A knowing look that sent a ripple down my spine. It was as if she too had glimpsed the truth behind the water’s veil, had sensed the ancient currents at play beneath our fragile understanding.

I gave her a soft pat, whispering more to myself than to her, “Good girl,” and turned to go. My footsteps felt heavier than before, burdened not by physical exhaustion but by the weight of unspoken revelation. I made a mental note to say nothing—for now. The camp was already strained at the seams: Duke was dead, Joel was missing, Kain was barely hanging on, and fear was quickly filling the gaps between us all. The last thing we needed was more unknowns to throw us off balance.

The mystery of the lagoon would keep. Its silent, glimmering secrets would not disappear overnight. But for now, our priority was each other—finding Joel, tending to the wounded, keeping hope alive.

With one final glance over my shoulder, the whirlpools still spinning their slow, spectral ballet across the lagoon’s surface, I turned and hurried after Chris and Kain. The image of the water—those strange, impossible spirals—remained etched into my mind, an imprint I knew I would carry with me always.

It would not let me forget.

As I caught up to Chris and Kain, who were almost at the top of the final hill, Lois bounded ahead of me, her paws thudding softly against the shifting sand. She was a blur of energy, her sodden coat darkened from the lagoon, casting off a spray of water with each stride that glittered in the sunlight like a shower of diamonds. Her sudden reappearance brought a flicker of levity to the moment—a momentary lift in the oppressive atmosphere that clung to us like the heat.

My own pace quickened, though my body protested with every step. My calves ached with the climb, the steep incline forcing me to lean forward, digging my boots into the loose terrain for purchase. The earlier adrenaline had drained away, replaced now by a sluggish heaviness that settled in my limbs. My lungs burned, drawing in hot, dry air that felt like it scraped against my throat. Still, I pressed on, compelled by a need to regroup, to hold our fragile unit together in the face of escalating uncertainty.

Chris and Kain had paused at the summit, waiting, their figures stark against the wash of sun-bleached sky behind them. The sight of them—worn, silent, waiting—stirred something quiet and resolute in me. As I finally crested the hill, they turned, and I caught the tired concern etched into their features: Chris’s brows furrowed, Kain’s face drawn tight with discomfort, his posture uneven as he tried to shift his weight off his bad leg.

"What was the problem?" Chris asked as I reached them, his voice tinged with concern.

I shook my head quickly, brushing the question aside with a dismissive wave. "It was nothing," I replied, forcing my voice to sound composed, to veil the ripple of unease that still trembled beneath the surface. I didn’t want to burden Kain, not when he already looked like he was holding himself together through sheer will. The truth of what I’d seen—those hypnotic, impossible whirlpools—would only add weight to minds already straining under pressure.

I shot Chris a sharp look, a silent warning not to press the issue. Now wasn’t the time to speculate or dive into half-formed theories. We had more immediate concerns—Joel was still missing, and the camp, fragile at the best of times, needed leadership, not mystery.

Chris caught my eye and held my gaze for a beat. I saw understanding flicker in his expression, and he gave the faintest of nods. It was enough.

"Let's keep moving," Kain urged, his voice gravelly and worn. He hadn’t spoken much since I’d returned, and now, though his words were clipped, they held a note of grim determination. His face was pale beneath the sun, and I could see sweat trailing down from his temples, his body tight with pain. Still, there was steel in his expression. He wasn’t asking for pity.

We moved forward again, our pace measured, dictated by Kain’s injury and the weariness that had crept into our bones. No one spoke. The only sounds were the soft crunch of sand underfoot and Lois’s rhythmic panting as she trotted beside us, casting the occasional glance behind as though checking we were all still there.

My thoughts, however, refused to settle. The image of the swirling water at the lagoon kept rising unbidden in my mind—fluid and beautiful, yet disquieting in its otherness. It nagged at the edges of reason, teasing some elusive truth just beyond reach. But I forced the thoughts away. For now, there were more pressing matters: Joel’s disappearance, the safety of the group, the fraying thread of stability we were barely clinging to.

One step at a time, I told myself. Just get us back. Then we could face whatever came next.