ã€ŠThe Cat Who Saw The World Endã€‹


 Chapter 1: A Terrible Night

    In the belly of that forsaken alley, there I lay¡ªa fragile heap of fur and bone, discarded like yesterday¡¯s trash. The stench of decay clung to the air, a vile perfume of rot and neglect, where the living mingled with the dead. Some of my kin were already stiff with the chill of death, their tiny bodies rigid in their final repose. Others, less fortunate still, writhed under the assault of worms and maggots, their misery prolonged by the cruel hand of fate. And there, among them, I¡ªa pitiful creature, trembling on the very precipice of oblivion.

    A hand reached down, gentle was its touch and plucked me from the muck as if I were some treasure buried in the mire. I was bathed in warm waters that washed away the filth of the world and the vermin that sought to devour me. Once I was cleaned, dried, and brushed, my carers would remark in awe that each strand of my fur resembled a golden thread, banded and interwoven in shades of the earth¡ªcinnamon, tawny, and fawn¡ªblending together, much like the undulating dunes beneath a blazing sun.

    They cradled me tenderly, either holding me close in their arms or settling me in a cozy box lined with soft blankets. My belly, once a hollow void, was filled with the warmth of sweet milk, and with each drop, the life that had nearly escaped me was coaxed back, breath by breath.

    Aboard the NOAH 1 ship, my place was not among the ranks of those who command or navigate the vast seas. No, my duty was of a gentler sort, though no less important. I was to bring solace to the weary, to comfort the broken-hearted, to be a balm for the soul in a world where such comforts were as scarce as a sailor''s star in a storm.

    And so, from the filth, I was reborn¡ªnot merely to live, but to serve, to be a small, warm light in the cold darkness that so often surrounds us. They christened me Page, a name fit for a service animal. In my simple existence, I found a purpose far greater than myself, for in the quiet company of those who suffered, I became their lifeline, their hope in a world that had forgotten the meaning of the word.

    Despite my best efforts, however, not all could be saved from the depths of their own despair. And when such tragedies unfolded, they didn''t pass me by like the fleeting shadows of clouds; they lodged deep within me, cutting me through like a sword. Failure was no small burden¡ªit clung to me, thick and oppressive, a leaden anchor dragging me into dark waters that threatened to engulf me for weeks on end.

    Sarah from Cabin 4, a mother of three children and wife of a lost sea scavenger, approached me with a bowl of mashed tuna in her hands. Her steps were slow and heavy, as if she carried more than just the dish. I sensed her sorrow, though it was not something that could be measured by touch, smell, or sight. It was an ethereal thing. I felt it more keenly than I could describe¡ªan ache, a tightening of the chest that made each breath a struggle against the invisible chains of melancholy.

    The tuna, once a delight to my senses, now seemed an impossible task. Its scent reached my nostrils, familiar and tempting, yet I found no joy in it. My appetite had shrunk in the face of the sorrow that permeated the cabin. As I nibbled at the offering, each bite a struggle, a somber realization settled over me: there was nothing more I could do to ease her pain.

    No matter how often I nuzzled my head against her hand, wove between her legs, or licked her cheek with gentle affection, even the soft rumble of my purr in her ears¡ªonce a balm for troubled hearts¡ªseemed powerless against the depth of her grief.

    The only solace I could offer her was to follow her, silently, to the promenade deck. A handful of figures roamed the deck, savoring the cool serenity of the night, their footsteps barely more than whispers. Meanwhile, within the warm confines of the ship, others were enjoying themselves, their laughter rising in boisterous bursts, acheer of camaraderie mingling with the resonant clatter of pint glasses colliding in shared toasts.

    As she approached the ship''s rail, I backed away, feeling the chill of inevitability in the air. She gripped the rail, her knuckles white against the iron, and with a final, haunting smile cast in my direction, she vaulted over the edge. In an instant, she vanished into the abyss, leaving me alone in the stillness of the night, where the whisper of the waves echoed in my ears, marking her passage into the depths below.

    Screams mingled with the roar of the waves as a small crowd surged toward the rail where Sarah had stood moments before.

    ***

    Sarah''s three children¡ªSam, aged eight, Joe, twelve, and Anne, ten¡ªlay in their beds as if cradled by peaceful dreams, their cheeks still flushed with the warmth of life. At a glance, they seemed to be just simply asleep, the soft rise and fall of breath only just missing from their small, still forms. But as I drew closer, the awful truth revealed itself: they were gone.

    Only hours earlier, I had played with them in the bright confines of the playroom reserved for the children of NOAH 1. Sam had darted about, giggling as he made me chase after a stick with a fake mouse tethered to it by a string. Joe, full of boyish energy, had engaged in a spirited game of pickleball with another boy his age, while Anne, ever the quiet observer, sat on the sidelines with a book in hand, occasionally turning a page. That was today¡ªnow, as I stared at their lifeless forms, it felt like a memory from a lifetime ago.

    The captain, flanked by a petty officer and a steward, gently lifted me from where I lay on Joe¡¯s chest and passed me to Alan, a dark-haired young woman who often fed me and allowed me to call her suite my own and sleep beside her on her bed. With a nod, the captain ordered the steward to fetch the surgeon and the body bags, for the children''s bodies would soon need to be removed, and the cabin sealed off.

    "Why rob the children of life?" the captain spat out, his voice edged with a searing anger. "Sarah committed a damnable act. Such selfishness¡ªit¡¯s unthinkable."

    "She left a note," Alan replied quietly, lifting a folded letter from the desk, her other arm cradling me.

    ¡°Read it.¡±

    Alan settled into a chair, placing me gently on her lap. I peered at the letter, curious to know of Sarah¡¯s final thoughts. It was not fashioned from the bark of trees, as in the days of old¡ªtrees had long since vanished from our desolate world. Instead, the note was crafted from the stretched and dried skin of fish, and the words upon it had been inscribed in the deep black of squid ink, applied with the sharpened tip of a fishbone.

    Alan began to read the letter, her voice steady and devoid of emotion:

    To whoever finds this letter,

    Seven hundred days have passed since the day Louis and his scavenger crew were due to return home. I know the rule of thumb states that after ten years, a scavenger crew or anyone else lost at sea can be safely presumed dead.

    They may very well return at any moment between now and then, for it¡¯s possible for scavengers to lose their way in this vast, volatile sea world¡ªso unforgiving, so hostile to us all! But that knowledge offers little comfort to a wife and her children. I had hoped the pain would ease with time, that each day might bring a sliver of peace. But I was wrong. It grows more unbearable, the weight of it sinking my soul deeper and deeper into nothingness. I often wonder if there¡¯s a bottom to this despair, or if I¡¯ll continue to fall forever.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Please extend my gratitude to Officer Alan, who offered us a small measure of comfort by sharing an epic poem she had learned as a child. It was the tale of a man who, after ten years of battle as a soldier, became lost at sea and found himself swept into strange and wondrous adventures as he sought his way home. Meanwhile, his wife and son waited faithfully for his return, the wife fending off suitors as she remained true to her one and only.

    After twenty long years, the family was finally reunited. This story captivated the children, lifting their spirits, and, for a brief time, it eased my own worries, allowing me to imagine that my Louis, too, was out there, battling through his own adventures and finding his way back to us.

    But that is just a stupid fantasy, not reality. I can¡¯t go on like this¡ªI can¡¯t wait ten years for Captain Francis to officially declare my husband and his crew dead. The awful truth I can no longer deny is that my Louis is gone. Pretending otherwise, feeding my children the false hope that their father might someday return¡ªI can¡¯t do it anymore. Each time I lie to them, it breaks my heart a little more, until there¡¯s almost nothing left of it. And so I¡¯ve made my decision: if Louis cannot come home to us, then we will go to him. We¡¯ll be reunited, one way or another.

    Yours truly,

    Sarah Kelping

    ***

    Alan placed the letter back on the desk, her face etched with the seriousness of what she had just read. Captain Francis stood facing the window, his back turned to us, yet I could see the subtle tremor in his shoulders, his head hung low under the crushing grief, rooting him to the spot.

    ¡°Search the room,¡± he commanded, his voice tight, as if the words themselves were strangling him.

    ¡°What am I looking for, sir?¡±

    ¡°Whatever she used to¡ªto put the children to sleep,¡± he replied, his voice faltering. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like she suffocated them with a pillow or strangled them. They appear to have gone quietly, as if they simply went to sleep, tucking themselves in for the night. At least, that¡¯s what I like to believe.¡±

    ¡°It''s a comforting thought, sir. I also think that''s what happened to them.¡±

    I knew at once what he meant. The moment we entered the cabin, I caught an unfamiliar scent¡ªa sweet foreign aroma, lingering in the air like a wispy cloud. Leaping from Alan¡¯s lap, I circled the room, my tail swaying from side to side as I let the scent guide me, the gears in my mind turning with grim purpose.

    I hopped onto a chair by the desk, where three plates, dotted with crumbs from slices of bread the kids had enjoyed for dessert, lay abandoned. Beside them were three empty glasses, their rims still clinging to the sweet-smelling residue of a drink.

    Yet, the tantalizing aroma that had caught my attention wasn¡¯t coming from there. It was wafting from somewhere else in the room. I inhaled deeply, trying to trace its source. It drew me to the trash bin nestled in the shadowy corner of the room. I rose up on my hind legs and braced my front paws against the bin, pressing it until it toppled over spilling its contents onto the floor.

    It¡¯s in here! I called to Alan, though I knew my words fell silent between us, lost in the chasm of our differing species and the languages that danced just beyond our reach. But, in that moment, she grasped what my actions conveyed.

    She knelt beside the overturned bin, her hands sifting through the jumble of broken fishbone quills and crumpled dried fish-skin papers. Amidst the debris, she discovered it¡ªa small brown bottle, no larger than a thumb, along with its cork.

    She brought the vial to her nose and took a tentative sniff, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she struggled to decipher the unfamiliar scent. I had reacted similarly when we first entered the room. I had caught a whiff of it from the children¡¯s partially opened mouths, but I had been too much in shock and grief over their passing to truly comprehend its significance.

    ¡°Captain, I think this is it,¡± she said, handing the vial to him. He took it, bringing it to his nose for a brief, cautious sniff.

    ¡°Have the surgeon examine it,¡± he ordered. ¡°And find out where Sarah might have acquired it.¡±

    ¡°What should I do once I discover who sold her the poison?¡±

    ¡°Bring them in for questioning. There''s a strong chance they could be charged as an accomplice to murder.¡±

    ¡°I''ll get on it, sir.¡±

    Alan bent down, her fingers gently scratching behind my ears, sending a delightful shiver through my body.

    ¡°Good boy, Page,¡± she murmured. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll take you along. You¡¯re proving to be quite the partner in this investigation.¡±

    Her touch, warm and reassuring, set my nerves tingling, while her words swelled my heart with pride. I was more than ready to follow her, eager to assist in any way I could, and to help bring closure for Sarah and her family. It was, I knew, the very least I could do.

    When the ship''s surgeon Dr. Willis arrived, his eyes were wide with disbelief, as if the very marrow of his bones had turned to ice. With a visible effort, he shook himself free from the grip of that initial shock, his face hardening as he moved toward the small, lifeless forms to confirm that there was no life in them.

    The room was suffused with the unbearable stillness of death, broken only by the soft rustling of the dark green kelp sheets as the petty officer began to unfurl them, preparing to shroud the bodies. But then, something flickered in the corner of my vision. Across the room, Joe and Anne stood in their long pajamas, pale figures bathed in an ethereal light. Of course, no human could see them¡ªonly I possessed that sight. It must be some innate ability of my kind, a gift that allowed me to peer beyond the veil of the material world into realms unseen by human eyes.

    Joe and Anne''s faces were tinged with sorrow, as if they mourned the brevity of their lives. There was a serene peace about them, however; a quiet acceptance of their fate. But Sam was not among them. His absence sent a jolt through me, a sudden, undeniable realization. My heart quickened, and with a sudden burst of urgency, I leaped onto the foot of little Sam¡¯s bed, crying out, desperate to make the officer stop before it was too late.

    The steward attempted to swat me off the bed, but I stood my ground, resolute. I leapt onto Sam¡¯s chest, hissing fiercely, my back arched in defiance. My paw shot out, claws unsheathed and poised to strike, a clear warning to the officer that I wouldn¡¯t be moved so easily.

    "Out of my way, Page," the officer barked, his words edged with the sharpness of steel, cutting through the tension like a blade.

    But Alan, ever vigilant, stepped forward, her voice calm yet commanding, like a captain steadying the helm in a storm. "Wait!" she interjected, her face flashing with conviction. "He¡¯s trying to tell us something." Her gaze shifted to the surgeon. ¡°Check his vitals once more, if you please.¡±

    Dr. Willis, though skeptical, moved with the seriousness of a man who had witnessed too much to dismiss even the faintest hope. His brow furrowed, deep lines carving his face like furrows in the earth. He approached the boy''s bedside. Leaning in, he placed his ear near Sam¡¯s mouth, listening intently for the faintest breath, that fragile thread binding life to flesh. Next, he reached for his stethoscope and placed it over the boy¡¯s heart.

    For a heartbeat, there was nothing¡ªonly the heavy silence of a room holding its breath. Then, Dr. Willis sprang upright, a tremor in his voice as he announced, ¡°The boy¡ªhe¡¯s still alive!¡±

    Captain Francis gathered Sam into his arms, cradling the boy with a tenderness that belied his usual stern demeanor, and rushed from the cabin with Dr. Willis running at his side. Alan and the steward remained behind, silently wrapping the other bodies in the dark kelp sheets.

    I bolted after the captain and the surgeon, my paws barely touching the cold metal floors as I raced down the winding corridors, darting left and right, then down the steps, my heart pounding in time with the heavy footfalls behind me. Captain Francis was breathing hard, clutching Sam tightly, as though by sheer force of will he could keep the boy tethered to life.

    At last, we reached the infirmary. Captain Francis gently laid Sam down on a narrow bed, his hands lingering for a moment before Dr. Willis stepped in, barking orders to the nurse. She set up the oxygen tank and prepared the intravenous line. This might be their last chance to pull the boy back from the abyss.

    After a few agonizing minutes, I leaped onto the foot of the bed, waiting for any sign of life. Then, at last, he began to stir, and his eyelids fluttered open, a faint spark of life rekindling in his gaze.

 Chapter 2: The Mysterious Slime

    Sitting on the edge of the stool in the laboratory, Alan waited with hands clenched on the table as Dr. Willis bent over the microscope. I perched beside her on another stool, my tail twitching in quiet anticipation, for I too was drawn into the moment. I watched Dr. Willis with the same intensity that Alan did. He had carefully swabbed the last traces of poison from the vial, then delicately collected samples from the children''s mouths, seeking the remnants of the same toxic substance. I also wanted to uncover the mystery of the vial and find out what had killed Joe and Anne and put Sam in the infirmary, teetering on the brink between life and death.

    Dr. Willis finally straightened, looking up from the eyepiece, his expression grim. He picked up the vial with deliberate care, turning it slowly in his fingers.

    ¡°Whatever that was in this vial,¡± he began, ¡°is both simple and mysterious. There are two distinct components, but only one I can identify with any certainty.¡±

    He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line as he sifted through the vast, intricate tapestry of his knowledge on toxins. ¡°The one I recognize," he continued, ¡°is tetrodotoxin.¡±

    Alan''s head jerked up, her voice echoing my own inquisitive meow as she repeated the word, ¡°Tetrodotoxin.¡±

    Dr. Willis nodded. "It''s a neurotoxin, one typically found in pufferfish. Even a single drop is lethal, and just a trace can induce paralysis.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s lethal, how did Sam survive?¡±

    ¡°My guess is that Sarah didn¡¯t mix the poison evenly in the children¡¯s drinks. Sam must have ended up with the one that had barely a trace of it. He¡¯s a lucky boy.¡±

    He peered through the microscope again. ¡°But here¡­ here, it¡¯s something different,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s been blended with an extremely rare element, something I¡¯ve only encountered once before yet I''m still baffled by it."

    ¡°Any wild guesses as to what that element could be, Doctor?¡±

    ¡°I have a theory,¡± the doctor said, glancing up from the microscope, ¡°if you¡¯re inclined to hear it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    Dr. Willis leaned in. ¡°Several years ago, Louis returned from one of his scavenger hunts with a decanter he had discovered in a chamber deep within a sea cave. The chamber had an air pocket that had preserved the decanter, along with other pottery and silverware, all perfectly intact. The decanter was a rare find, no larger than the span of my arm, and inside, sealed by a glass stopper, was a slimy substance¡ªthick, viscous, and oddly fragrant. It smelled sweet, almost refreshing, like something you¡¯d expect from a long-lost Eden. I took a sample and examined it under the microscope. To my surprise, it was a form of mold¡ªmy guess is a type of slime mold.¡±

    ¡°And how does this slime mold figure into what we¡¯re dealing with here? What makes it so significant?¡±

    Scratching his chin in contemplation, the doctor replied, ¡°I don¡¯t claim to be a mycologist, but I can share what little I know. Slime molds thrive on the forest floor, where they feed on decomposing leaves, rotting logs, gnarled tree bark, and the damp, dark soil. They flourish by consuming what nature has discarded.¡±

    ¡°Trees, leaves, and soil,¡± Alan murmured.

    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Dr. Willis reaffirmed. ¡°These molds grow on organic matter that has long vanished from our world¡ªthings that have been extinct since the Great Wrath, which flooded our earth more than forty years ago.¡±

    ¡°But, apparently, they still do exist somewhere, if this slime you speak of exists. So, is that the other substance we found in the vial?¡±

    Dr. Willis confirmed with a nod.

    ¡°But why mix the slime with the neurotoxin?¡± Alan pressed.

    ¡°My guess would be to mask the poison¡¯s natural bitterness. Surprisingly, the slime is edible.¡±

    ¡°Do you still happen to have the decanter?¡±

    ¡°I think it would be in the kitchens. Gunther is probably using it to keep his drink.¡±

    ¡°What did you do with the slime that was in the decanter?¡±

    ¡°Louis¡ªbeing Louis¡ªdrank it. And I did, too. Looking back, it was quite foolish of me to consume something of such mysterious origins.¡±

    ¡°How was it?¡±

    ¡°Deliciously sweet,¡± Dr. Willis admitted with a rueful smile.

    Our conversation was abruptly interrupted by a sickly groan coming from the adjoining room¡ªthe infirmary where young Sam lay ensnared in uneasy sleep. He was beginning to rouse. Earlier, when the captain had brought him in, his eyes had fluttered open for just a few seconds, only to slip shut again.

    Alan and Dr. Willis exchanged a glance before they hastened toward the room, and I, caught in the swell of their haste, leapt from my stool and raced behind them. Dr. Willis took his place beside Sam, his practiced hands already at work, checking the pulse of life in the pallid boy.

    Alan remained by the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, observing the scene with careful scrutiny. I hurled myself toward the foot of the bed, my breath catching in my throat as the boy feverishly tossed from side to side, his body gripped by some unseen torment. His face glistened with a cold sheen of sweat, and his gaze was clouded and distant, as though still tethered to the nightmare that had held him captive.

    ¡°Momma!¡± he cried out, his voice trembling with desperation. ¡°I want to see Momma.¡±

    Dr. Willis¡¯s expression softened as they met the boy¡¯s pleading eyes, but he held back the harsh truth, unwilling to let those words fall upon such tender ears. Instead, he offered a gentle reassurance. ¡°Your mother isn''t here, but you¡¯re not alone, son. Officer Alan and I are here, a nurse will also be nearby to check on you now and then, and you¡¯ve got Page for company.¡±

    I hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, my tail swaying gently from side to side. With a soft purr, I nuzzled my head against his small, trembling hand, hoping that in this simple gesture, he might find some comfort in the warmth of companionship.

    ¡°Why am I here?¡± Sam asked, confused. ¡°I don¡¯t remember coming here. I was in my bedroom¡­¡±

    ¡°You fell ill,¡± Alan began gently. ¡°The captain carried you to the infirmary when your mother couldn¡¯t.¡±

    Sam¡¯s brow furrowed as he tried to piece together the fragments of his memory. ¡°Will she come visit later? Joe and Anne, too?¡± His voice wavered with a fragile hope.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Dr. Willis drew a sharp breath as he turned away from Sam. I could see the reluctance etched in the lines of his face, the unspoken burden of truth pressing down upon him. It was a strange thing. This human hesitation. This reluctance to lay bare the reality before those who most needed to see it. I could never quite grasp why they believed it kinder to cloak the truth in silence, to shield it behind veils of false hope.

    The truth, after all, is a double-edged blade¡ªit cuts deep, yes, slicing into the very marrow of the soul. But it is a blade that must be wielded, for in its sharpness lies a certain cruel mercy.

    ¡°You should rest more,¡± the doctor finally murmured, breaking the silence that had settled in the room like a shroud.

    ¡°But¡ª¡± Sam started, attempting to rise from the bed, only to freeze, his face draining of color. ¡°Wait¡­ I¡ªI¡­¡±

    ¡°What is it? What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t move my legs! I can¡¯t feel them!¡±

    ¡°Stay calm, son.¡±

    ¡°Stay calm? How can I stay calm when something¡¯s wrong with my legs?¡± Sam¡¯s voice trembled, edging toward hysteria, the terror on his face deepening.

    ¡°You were poisoned,¡± Alan cut in, her words sharp and unguarded. ¡°Paralysis is one of the poison¡¯s effects, but it¡¯s the least damaging one.¡±

    Sam turned to the doctor, silently demanding the truth. The doctor hesitated. After a tense pause, he nodded, confirming Alan¡¯s grim statement.

    ¡°How did it happen? Did I do something wrong?¡± Sam asked, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°Will I walk again?¡± His hand shakily reached down, searching for some reassurance in the feel of his legs.

    ¡°It''ll take time and patience,¡± Dr. Willis replied, his tone reassuring. ¡°But I believe you''ll walk again.¡±

    A flicker of relief washed over the young boy¡¯s face.

    Alan stepped forward and drew a chair beside Sam''s bedside. With a steady hand, she lowered herself into the seat, her face a mask of stoic resolve, though there was a flicker of tenderness. It was a tenderness born of empathy, a quiet ache for the boy whose world had been so suddenly upended.

    I padded softly to his side, instinct guiding my steps. Circling in his lap, I nestled against his small frame, pressing my head to his shoulder with a gentle nuzzle. In that simple act, I hoped to offer a comfort beyond words, a silent assurance to brace him for the truth that loomed like a distant storm, heavy and inevitable.

    ¡°Can you tell me what you did earlier today?¡± Alan asked, her voice steady, though concern lingered beneath the surface. ¡°Where you were, and what you did before you went to bed.¡±

    Sam reached out and gathered me into his small arms, his fingers scratching tenderly at the top of my head. ¡°After breakfast, we went up to the main deck for a walk and fresh air,¡± he began, his voice soft, as though trying to recall a dream just out of reach.

    ¡°Who were you with?¡± Alan inquired, her tone gentle but probing.

    ¡°Momma, Joe, and Anne,¡± he answered, his grip tightening around me, as if drawing strength from my presence. ¡°And Page, too. On the way up to the deck, I saw him chasing a rat. The poor thing looked so scared. So I picked up Page and took him with us. I didn¡¯t want him to kill that poor rat.¡±

    Alan let out a soft chuckle, a brief ripple of warmth in the otherwise somber air. ¡°Well, that¡¯s one of Page¡¯s duties on the ship¡ªto keep order and cleanliness.¡±

    ¡°I know¡­¡± Sam murmured, his voice trailing off.

    Alan¡¯s expression grew more serious, her eyes narrowing slightly as she ventured into darker waters. In a graver tone, she asked, ¡°How was your mother? Did she seem any different from other days?¡± Her words gently nudged the boy''s memory.

    ¡°Not more than usual. Momma would lean against the rail, staring off into the horizon, as if at any moment she might catch sight of Dad¡¯s boat.¡±

    Sam paused, sinking back into his pillow, the shadow of sorrow darkening his young face. ¡°I used to stand beside her, waiting in silence, hoping. I believed, like she did, that he¡¯d come back.¡±

    Memories of those strolls on the main deck with the Kelping family began to resurface in my mind. Sarah, adrift in her sorrow, lingered by the rail, her thoughts lost in the endless waves as she searched for a sign of her lost husband¡ªnothing more than a mirage wavering on the horizon. Hours would slip away unnoticed, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows, until dinner''s call drifted through the ship¡¯s speakers.

    Joe and Anne, once eager companions on these walks, had grown weary of these vigils. The deck, once alive with their playful chatter, had become a place of mourning, a reminder of something lost. Tiring of their mother¡¯s endless reverie, they would slip away¡ªsilent as wraiths¡ª to the playroom below, where the world still offered the innocent solace of laughter and games.

    Sam, the youngest, stayed behind, a silent sentinel by his mother¡¯s side clinging to the last vestiges of familial duty. Yet even his patience had its limits. He had given in to the pull of his siblings'' escape, leaving Sarah alone, a solitary figure against the fading light, her children now gone like the mist.

    ¡°But in these last few days,¡± Sam went on, ¡°I started to feel, deep down, that Dad was lost to the sea, and it might be years¡ªif ever¡ªbefore he returned. Just like in the story you told us¨C the Odyssey.¡± His voice faltered, as if the weight of that realization had only just begun to settle, a truth as cold and overwhelming as the ocean itself.

    "You can never be certain," Dr. Willis mused, his voice both cautious and hopeful. "The scavengers have been lost at sea before, but somehow, against all odds, they always find their way back home.¡±

    ¡°But never this long before.¡±

    ¡°True, but I trust your father''s knowledge of the sea and excellent navigation skills.¡±

    ¡°What did you and your brother and sister do later in the evening?¡± Alan asked, pressing on.

    ¡°When the dinner bell sounded, Joe went up to get Momma from the promenade deck,¡± answered Sam. ¡°We all had dinner at the mess hall, and then we went back to our cabin. Momma said she had something special for us. It was a sweet drink, something she bought from the market in Floating City the other day.¡±

    ¡°Did she mention who sold her the drink or where she got it from?¡±

    ¡°No, she didn¡¯t say a word, but I remember the day she took us to the city. She handed Joe some coins so we could buy fish cakes while she went to the apothecary to take care of something.¡±

    ¡°Which apothecary are you referring to?¡±

    "The one near the vendor who sells fish cakes and starfish.¡±

    Dr. Willis tilted his head, a look of recognition dawning on his face. ¡°Ah, I believe I know the place you''re talking about. It¡¯s fairly new, probably hasn''t been open for more than a year.¡±

    ¡°Do you know the owner?¡± Alan asked.

    ¡°Not well. But I did encounter him once. Quite an odd character¡­¡±

    ¡°In what way?¡±

    "He¡¯s a quiet man," Dr. Willis explained, "always cloaked in a hooded jacket, his face hidden behind a gas mask attached to an oxygen tank he drags around. As far as I know, no one who¡¯s met him has ever seen his face." He then turned to Sam. "Did you get a chance to see him?"

    Sam shook his head. "No, I didn¡¯t. But she stayed there for quite a while. When she was done, we wandered through the city together, eating fish cakes, though Anne got the roasted starfish. It had been ages since we did anything like that. That¡¯s when I knew everything was going to be okay.¡±

    Just as Alan began to voice another question, Dr. Willis cleared his throat. His hand rose gently but firmly, a silent command that halted her words mid-breath.

    ¡°Let¡¯s give Sam a bit more rest,¡± he said, before turning to his young patient. ¡°I¡¯ll inform the captain of your condition, and tomorrow, there¡¯s something he wishes to discuss with you.¡±

    The doctor rose to his feet and wished the boy a good night''s sleep before quietly exiting the room. Alan, too, was on the verge of leaving when Sam, with a tremor in his voice, begged her to stay and tell him a bedtime story. Sleep had eluded him, and fear clung to him like a shadow, even though I was curled up beside him, my purring offering little comfort. But I suppose a cat¡¯s soft purrs can¡¯t spin a wild tale the way a human voice can.

    ¡°What story would you like to hear?¡± Alan asked, settling back into the chair by the bedside.

    Sam paused, his brow furrowed in thought, before finally answering, ¡°The Great Wrath.¡±

    Alan¡¯s eyebrow arched in surprise. ¡°Are you sure? You don¡¯t think it might be too dark, too depressing? It was, after all, one of the greatest disasters our world has ever known.¡±

    He shook his head and pulled the blanket up to his chin. ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± he replied with certainty.

    I rested my head on his lap, my eyes closing as Alan began to tell Sam the story. I had heard many stories, many times before from many different people and creatures¡ªsurvivors who had lived through the deluge and its aftermath, and toiled for decades to piece together the fragments of a drowned world. From them, each one like a shard of shattered glass, I pieced together a grim mosaic¡ªone that spoke of wrath and ruin, of human folly and the merciless forces that swept across the land, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake.

 Chapter 3: The Great Wrath

    Jimmy, an elderly steward on NOAH 1, often regaled the younger crew during dinner with tales of his youth before the Great Wrath. I would listen from under the table at his feet, where he occasionally dropped a fish cake or a spoonful of tuna for me to nibble on. The others would lean in close, captivated by his stories. Placing a pipe packed with a clump of dried seaweed between his lips, he began to speak of the signs.

    The rain showed no sign of stopping, despite the weatherman''s forecast predicting it would persist only through the night before tapering off by morning. Instead, it went on and on, flooding the streets and surging through houses, filling them to the brim and forcing people to seek refuge on their rooftops and wait desperately for help. But long before the Endless Rain began, the signs were all around us. The humans just chose to ignore them. They went on with their lives, sucking up all of Earth¡¯s milk and honey, while giving nothing back, only leaving behind mountains of poisonous waste.

    Summers grew hotter and stretched on longer, while fall and spring became little more than brief transitions. Birds plummeted from the sky, overwhelmed by the scorching heat, and perished upon impact. Winters, though short, turned brutal, marked by fierce hail, sleet, and temperatures that plunged so low that without proper gloves or boots, stepping outside for even a few minutes meant risking frostbite. People adapted to these changes, but they themselves never changed their ways. Denying the truth is to deny reality itself; no matter how brutal, the truth remains, and it is the right of all to face it, to know it, and to bear its mark.

    There were other signs of an impending doom, not just in the weather. One of them I¡¯ve seen at the beach. As I strolled along the shore, something strange was washed up on the sand. A growing crowd quickly gathered around it, snapping photographs and talking all excitedly. I made my way over to see what all the fuss was about. What I saw was unlike anything I had ever seen before!

    It was a serpent. Its body, slender and impossibly long, gleamed with a metallic sheen, shades of blue and green. A fiery red crest ran the length of its spine, and its eyes were like black pits that swallowed the light. It took twenty men to lift the creature from the ground! But what did seeing an oarfish mean? I''ll tell you¨Cit was an omen. A message from an angry sea god.

    Was it really a message from a sea god? Did such beings even exist? These questions churned in my mind as I found myself speaking to a sea turtle. I was aboard a fisherman¡¯s boat, seeking a break from the monotony of life on the ship. Alan was busy with her duties as a petty officer, and the Kelping children were off with their mother in Floating City. So, on a whim, I decided to join the fishermen, hoping for a bit of adventure.

    As fate would have it, a sea turtle became entangled in the fisherman¡¯s net. The poor creature was hauled onto the deck, thrashing in panic as the fisherman carefully worked to free him. Sensing his fear¡ªlikely thinking he was about to become a meal¡ªI crouched down beside him, speaking in soft tones. I asked him about sea gods and other mysteries of the deep, not really expecting an answer, but trying to soothe his anxiety as he lay helpless on the deck.

    G-G-Gods? No, no, there are no gods¡ªjust us. Just us, who''ve seen it all. I''ve been there, I swear. The oarfish¡­ oh, the oarfish. Such delicate, sensitive creatures. They feel everything, you know? They can feel the earth, deep, deep down in the bottom of the sea. They felt it shift. I don''t know why, but it drove them up, up, up, until they flung themselves onto the shore, desperate, suicidal. It was as if they knew something, something terrible¡ªbut were too stupid to make sense of it. Or maybe... maybe it was us who were too stupid to listen.

    I was just returning to the water, leaving behind the eggs I¡¯d buried in the sand, when I saw them¡ªdozens of them, washed up on the shore. The sight... it made me remember what my grandfather used to say. He warned me, you know. Because an oarfish, just before he flung himself up, told him that something was coming. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. Sooner than we¡¯d think!

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    And then it came¡ªthe Great Wrath. I remember it vividly. I was only half the age I am now, just a youthful sea turtle, when the waves rose up and devoured the lands. I could feel the tremors, the pull of something immense and terrible. The world above was drowning, and below, everything changed.

    Giant structures appeared underwater, unlike anything I had ever seen before. They were tall, rectangular, and unnatural. And then there were the strange creatures¡ªlarge fish with six eyes scattered all around their heads and the most bizarre fins, fins that seemed as solid as rock. I had never seen anything like them.

    They moved stiffly through the water, like they didn¡¯t belong, like they were lost. And the bodies¡­ Oh, the bodies. So many of them. People, thrashing in panic, their limbs flailing desperately before they went still. And then, slowly, they sank¡ªdown, down, down to the bottom of the sea, where they lay in silence.

    But why did they call it the Great Wrath? To the humans, it was a disaster of unimaginable scale, but for many of my sea brothers and sisters, it was a time of plenty, of feasting. The sharks, especially¡ªthey reveled in it. To them, it was no wrath at all, but a bounty sent from above. Maybe that was proof that the sea gods exist. I don¡¯t know. All I know is that my kind was terrified¡ªtruly, deeply worried. If the land was swallowed up by the sea, where would we lay our eggs? Where would our young begin their lives? The ocean was closing in on every side, and it seemed like there was no place left for us.

    But then, as if our prayers had been heard, we found refuge. Small plots of sandy and rocky land still remained, like scattered jewels in the endless blue. Not large islands, no¡ªsadly, nothing so grand. But enough. Just enough for us to haul ourselves ashore, to waddle up the sand and lay our eggs, to continue the cycle. We share these small sanctuaries with the seals, who laze about in the sun, basking without a care. It''s not much, but it''s something¡ªone we¡¯ve learned to cherish.

    The moment the fisherman freed the turtle, it briskly slipped back into the water. The creature had witnessed the events of the Great Wrath from beneath the surface, and I couldn''t help but wonder how it all appeared from above. My curiosity could only be satisfied by one other creature¡ªthe albatross. It is the only bird species I know that still survives in this water world. I met one such bird that had survived the Great Wrath and lived the time before it.

    The old albatross soared high above the churning ocean. Its feathers, once pure white, were now tinged with soft grays of age, and the edges of its wings frayed like a weathered sail. Its eyes, though dulled by the years, still shined with a quiet wisdom. The albatross glided down with grace, alighting on the rail beside me. I asked it what it had witnessed during the Great Wrath.

    Did you know that humans once flew in enormous metal birds, as large as whales? In the months leading up to the catastrophe, many of these machines fell from the sky, caught in violent storms or struck by lightning, only to explode in midair! Terrifying, magnificent sights.

    Volcanoes filled the skies with thick black clouds and choking ash. Islands crumbled, swallowed by the depths of the sea. Then, it was as if the entire world began to drown¡ªmassive waves, towering higher than the tallest structures men had built, surged forward, sweeping away human civilization. But not all were lost, of course. Some survived. They clung to life aboard ships and small boats that had somehow weathered the storm.

    NOAH 1 was such a vessel, a savior of hundreds from the gaping maw of the sea, plucking them from the brink of oblivion. This iron leviathan became my home, and its crew my family. Every soul aboard this iron ark did their part in running and maintaining it, and everyone had each other''s back.

    The albatross leaped off the rail and flew across the sky, its wings outstretched to their full in a graceful arc. It descended and hovered mere inches above the water¡¯s surface. It waited then struck the water with the speed of lightning. In an instant, it seized its prey¡ªa flash of silver in its beak¡ªbefore soaring back into the sky.

 Chapter 4: A Disappointing Breakfast

    Slowly, I woke up to the light of the morning. Its delicate beams filtered through the window, warming the dim infirmary with its soft golden glow. The scent of food prompted me to lift my head and shake off the last traces of sleep. It drifted through the air, teasing my whiskers and coaxing a twitch from my muzzle.

    A steward had brought in breakfast¡ªkelp soup, roe, and hardtack, that unforgivingly hard and dry cracker I often joked was more like a sheet of iron than anything edible. The meal was meant only for Sam, who remained asleep, but this time he appeared calmer. Alan, on the other hand, was slumped uncomfortably in the chair, head tilted to the side, having drifted off as soon as Sam had fallen asleep in the middle of her story.

    As the nurse checked the boy''s pulse and temperature, I inched closer to the bed tray, irresistibly drawn by the smell wafting from it.

    ¡°Not for you,¡± she chided, gently swatting me away. I quickly leapt from the bed onto Alan''s lap, startling her awake with the sudden movement.

    ¡°What time is it?¡± Alan asked.

    ¡°Just a little past eight,¡± the nurse replied. ¡°The mess hall is already serving breakfast.¡±

    Alan rose to her feet, prompting me to leap to the floor as she moved toward the door. She took one last glance at Sam before heading down the hall toward the stairs leading to the level below, where the mess hall was located. I followed closely at her heels, feeling famished, my mouth watering at the thought of burying my face in a bowl of roe. And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªif Gunther was feeling generous, I''d get a little nibble of a prawn.

    The mess hall was bustling with activity, noisy with chatter, and nearly every seat was occupied. Those on a morning work shift hurried in, wolfed down their food, and departed as quickly as they came, to catch the boat to Floating City. Others lingered after their meal, drawn into gossip, the latest topic being Sarah and the children. The news had spread faster than fire on oil-slicked waters.

    Alan lined up at the service line, ladled a bowl of kelp soup, and added some fish cakes and a scoop of mush to her tray. After a quick scan of the crowded room, she found a secluded table tucked away in the far corner, where only one other person was seated. I padded quietly over and took my usual place by her feet, gazing upward with quiet expectancy, awaiting the moment when she might tear a piece of the fish cake and toss it down to me.

    Alan noticed, of course. She always did. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing on her lips. Gently, she tore off a piece of cake and extended her hand toward me, offering the morsel to me in her open palm¨Cunlike the others, who would simply toss it on the floor for me to fetch.

    I snatched the piece in one quick motion, savoring its warmth and flavor, though it was gone too quickly. I glanced up, hopeful for another. Her smile softened into something almost apologetic.

    ¡°Sorry, buddy,¡± she said, her voice carrying a warmth that eased the sting of her words. ¡°But I''m hungry too. There wasn¡¯t much left at the line; we got here a bit too late for breakfast.¡± I sighed, feeling my ears droop as she leaned down to give me a quick scratch behind them, offering another soft apology.

    She paused, giving me a reassuring look before adding, ¡°But I promise I''ll bring you something nice from the city when I get back."

    You''re going without me? I meowed, surprised, placing a paw on her leg. I never imagined she¡¯d go off to the city and leave me behind. She usually took me with her whenever she could. I knew she liked having me around¡ªnot just to keep an eye out for her, but also as a trusted friend, someone with whom she could share whatever thoughts crossed her mind. I was the only one who truly listened. I thought we were partners!

    "I won¡¯t be gone long; it¡¯s just a quick day trip," she replied. Then, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard by the person sitting with her or those at the nearby tables, she added, "I need to visit the apothecary and find out who sold the poison."

    Then you need me! I protested. You can''t go without me. I was the one who found the vial. I was the one who had sensed that Sam was still alive.

    I paused and took a deep breath before continuing my little spiel¨C Or else, he would''ve been wrapped up and prepared to be thrown into the sea, just as Dr. Willis is doing now with Joe and Anne.

    ¡°You¡¯re incredibly chatty today,¡± she remarked with a soft smile. ¡°Would you like to come along with me to Floating City?¡±

    What a question! Indeed, I would be most delighted to accompany you.

    ¡°Alright, I''ll take you with me. But remember we''ll be on duty, so we''ve got work to do there. No wandering off.¡±

    Alan reached down once more, her fingers gliding to the familiar spot just behind my left ear. She knew exactly how to find that perfect spot and scratched in just the right way, sending a ripple of bliss through me. But I was still a bit hungry. I wandered through the mess hall, moving from table to table, occasionally pausing to gaze up at a diner, hoping they might offer me a small piece of fish or shrimp.

    Some diners were generous, offering me scraps of fish or shrimp. Others were less accommodating, barely glancing at me before grunting and shooing me away with a dismissive wave of their hand or a nudge of their foot. But it was the kids who truly tested my patience. They teased me mercilessly, holding a tantalizing fish cake just inches from my nose, only to pull it back at the last second.

    Before I could even react, one of them scooped me up into an awkward hug, my hind legs flailing in the air as I dangled helplessly, the coveted fish cake still frustratingly out of reach. I squirmed and wiggled, but their grip was firm, their laughter ringing in my ears as I stared longingly at the treat that seemed miles away. The adults around them were deeply engrossed in their own conversation, oblivious to everything else.

    ¡°The poor Kelping children,¡± one said.

    ¡°I heard one survived.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

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    ¡°The little one¨CSam.¡±

    ¡°Sadly, they are not the first family to be claimed by the sea. This life¡­ it¡¯s not for everyone.¡±

    ¡°Truth be told¨C it''s not for anyone.¡±

    A murmur of agreement rippled through the group before they lapsed into silence. Their eyes grew distant, gazing into the void as their thoughts drifted far beyond the horizon.

    After wriggling out of a child''s grasp, I found myself drawn toward the bustling kitchen, where the sounds of clattering pans and the rich scents of cooking filled the air. Gunther and the other cooks were already busy, slicing, stirring, and seasoning in preparation for the lunch rush. Curiosity got the better of me, and I leaped onto one of the counters, hoping for a closer inspection¡ªand maybe a little taste.

    "Gunther!" I called out, my ¡®meow¡¯ cutting through the clamor.

    The large, muscular man with a thick black beard turned from his task of whisking a mysterious green concoction in a bowl. The moment he saw me, a broad grin spread across his face, softening his rugged features. But it didn''t last long; he put on a stern expression, his voice playfully gruff as he scolded, ¡°Off the counter, you naughty little cat!¡±

    Even as he spoke, the warmth in his eyes betrayed his amusement, and I knew he wasn¡¯t really angry.

    ¡°Are you hungry, boy?¡± He asked.

    My stomach grumbled.

    Yes, I am, indeed! What delectable offerings do you have, good sir? A bowl of roe, perhaps? Or is it caviar? Maybe even steamed lobster, dripping with butter?

    Gunther nodded with a wink. ¡°I''ll whip up something for you.¡±

    My tail swayed excitedly from side to side as I watched him stride over to another counter. He picked up a small bowl, added a powdery substance, and filled it with water. After stirring the mixture with a spoon, he placed it in front of me. I sniffed the lump of wet, brown mush in the bowl, then glanced up at Gunther, questioning if this was truly the best he could offer.

    He raised an eyebrow, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. ¡°What? Don¡¯t get all snobby on me now. It¡¯s all we¡¯ve got until I head to Floating City later today for another supply run. You can wait until then.¡±

    I glanced over at his kitchen crew, busy stirring and whipping up ingredients in their mixing bowls, and wondered if it might be wiser to wait and see what they were preparing for lunch. My eyes wandered around the kitchen, searching for any stray roe or perhaps a shrimp¡ªanything that could serve as a small, satisfying bite, even if it was just the tail.

    Gunther caught my wandering gaze and chuckled. ¡°Don''t get your hopes up, Page. Lunch is nothing fancy¡ªjust hardtack, seaweed salad, and plain old porridge.¡±

    I sniffed the brown mush again, my senses recoiling at its unappealing aroma. A part of me wanted to hold out until I could catch the next boat to the city, where a better meal awaited, but my growling stomach demanded to be fed right now. With a resigned sigh, I reluctantly took a small bite. The mush was uncomfortably wet¡ªGunther had clearly added too much water¡ªand its blandness only made it harder to swallow.

    As I forced myself to stomach the mush, the cooks began discussing the fate of the missing scavengers. Some were convinced they had met their end during the violent storm that had struck a year ago. Others speculated that the scavengers might have encountered a rogue band of seafarers¡ªa rare but not entirely impossible event¡ªmeeting a grim fate, either killed or taken prisoner.

    But, despite differing theories, most agreed on one sad truth: they would likely never see them again. Of the hundreds of expeditions the scavenging crew had undertaken, they had always returned within the expected time frame¡ªnever a day late. But this time was different. Seven hundred days had passed, and still, there was no sign of them.

    Gunther quickly motioned for the cooks to quiet down as he noticed Alan approaching the kitchen with her empty tray. The others exchanged knowing glances, their grins widening as they shared an unspoken understanding. A few, however, simply rolled their eyes. Straightening up, he greeted her with a respectful nod, taking the tray from her hands and placing it on a counter already cluttered with trays and dishes by the sink.

    ¡°Good morning, Officer Alan,¡± he said with a cordial tone, flashing her a sideways grin. ¡°Do you want any snacks to take with you to your cabin? I think we''ve still got some seaweed chips in the pantry. I can take them up for you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I came here to get the little guy,¡± she said as she reached down to scratch me behind the ear. My heart swelled with relief, and I looked up at her with gratitude. Without hesitation, I rushed into her waiting arms, more than happy to leave behind the mush.

    ¡°But I do have a question for you about fish,¡± she added.

    He grinned with a hint of pride. ¡°Sure, ask me anything. I know quite a bit about fish¡ªhow to cook them, how to catch them, and, of course, how to enjoy them.¡±

    ¡°What do you know about pufferfish?¡±

    ¡°Pufferfish? Those cute little creatures¡ªI like to call them blowfish.¡±

    ¡°Blowfish?¡±

    ¡°If you tease them or threaten them, they blow themselves up like a balloon. But don''t let their cuteness fool you; they''re incredibly poisonous. They''re more lethal than cyanide. Still, that doesn''t stop some people from risking it all to enjoy them.¡±

    Alan''s eyebrows shot up in disbelief as if she¡¯d just heard something impossible. ¡°People actually eat them?¡±

    I was also surprised. The idea of someone willingly eating something so deadly was just so baffling! It seemed to defy all logic and common sense.

    Gunther nodded. ¡°They sure do. Some people love to flirt with danger. Even in the old days, before the Great Wrath, pufferfish were considered a delicacy. Only chefs specifically trained to handle this deadly fish could prepare it.¡±

    ¡°Do you know any cooks who prepare or sell pufferfish?¡±

    Gunther scratched his head, pondering. ¡°Hmm, I know a guy in Floating City who serves blowfish on the menu. He¡¯s the only one I can think of; no one else would dare to try it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°No one really knows. People just call him the Blowfish Man. He¡¯s ancient, they say¡ªbeen around longer than most can remember. Before the Great Wrath, he was supposedly a renowned chef. And back then, blowfish was his specialty, the thing he was known for.¡±

    Gunther paused, his gaze shifting to Alan with a flicker of curiosity. ¡°So, what¡¯s got you so interested in blowfish? Are you thinking of giving it a little try?¡±

    ¡°I''m not sure about eating something that could kill you.¡±

    ¡°It''s not as bad as it sounds! With the right seasoning, it''s actually quite delicious.¡±

    ¡°You''ve tried it before?¡± Alan asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

    ¡°Just once,¡± Gunther admitted, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. ¡°The Blowfish Man really knows his way around the kitchen, though I swear I felt a bit of tingling in my face afterward. But I''d be willing to risk it again. If you''re up for it, I could take you to the restaurant sometime¨C¡±

    Alan glanced at the wall clock and said, ¡°I¡¯d love to stay and chat, but I need to hurry and catch the boat to Floating City.¡±

    With that, she hurried out the kitchen, cradling me in her arms. We arrived too late to catch the boat. We missed it by just a minute. As we reached the main deck, the stewards were already pulling up the side lift that had been used to lower passengers aboard.

    Alan sighed in frustration with herself as I slipped out of her arms. I then propped myself up on the bottom rail. The boat, crowded with people, was already speeding away, disappearing into the distance as it headed toward the city, its silhouette a wavering blur on the horizon.

 Chapter 5: Floating City

    The waters, thankfully, were calm today. I stretched myself out by Alan''s feet, while she stood by the rail, and Gunther manned the steering wheel. When Gunther had arrived on the main deck and noticed that we had just missed the boat, he graciously offered us a lift. His boat was the last permitted to depart, as the ship needed more food supplies. With no other passenger boats scheduled to depart for the city that day, the yellow vessel was our only remaining option.

    As we sailed farther away, NOAH 1 and other great ships¡ªscattered across the still blue sea, each a home for thousands of survivors¡ªgradually shrank from view, while the Floating City came into view ever more clearly on the horizon. The city''s odor was always my measure of how much time remained before we reached the port. It was a distinctive smell, like the sweetness of overripe fruit left to bake in the sun, mixed with the salty breath of the sea. We were going to arrive very soon. Thirty more minutes.

    Before the Great Wrath, Floating City was nothing more than an endless expanse of debris, drifting from distant coastlines to the heart of the sea, where it coalesced into a massive, floating wasteland. I''ve heard tales of other such islands, spread across the world''s oceans, each one born from the waste and garbage that humanity had discarded over the years.

    Then, in the aftermath of the cataclysm, the survivors began to slowly, painstakingly reconstruct a semblance of civilization with the scattered flotsam that their old world left behind. Old Jimmy told stories of those difficult years. Decades ago, as one of the able-bodied young men, he helped rebuild a new world by hand. He salvaged and hauled metal fragments from the waters, risking drowning alongside hundreds of others who had sacrificed themselves in the rebuilding efforts for their species¡¯ survival. They couldn''t, however, replicate the grand cities and sky-high monuments that had once pierced the heavens.

    Gone were the sprawling empires they had once ruled with such pride and hubris. Now, a smaller, more fragile society had emerged upon the very waste of their former glory; ever mindful of the cataclysm that had brought them low. Still, they held a quiet resilience that burned within them. Humans now had to rely on each other to survive. Though life in the sea could be harsh, Jimmy often said he preferred it after the cataclysm. There were no rulers, no bosses, no rich or poor¡ªjust a simple existence, with everyone watching out for one another.

    The stink of the city grew stronger as we approached, a smell I had long since grown accustomed to. Floating City was a hive of disorder. Every corner seemed alive with movement. It was bustling. Chaotic.

    The city was divided into seven boroughs, each a small island unto itself, yet not wholly disconnected. All were linked by metal bridges pieced together from salvaged shipwrecks and derelict boats. Six of these islands circled around a  towering monolith that had once been an offshore drilling rig. Now, repurposed and repainted for residents and shops, it stood as the city''s core.

    They called it Old Rig, the city folks did. The only way to reach the top of Old Rig was by several pulley-and-counterweight-operated elevators set up around it.  Each elevator was managed by an operator on the ground, overseeing the flow of passengers as they entered and exited. A second operator waited on the landing platform at the top, ready to assist with arrivals and departures.

    The city buildings leaned at odd angles. They were a haphazard collection of rusty and shabby structures, many of them dented and patched together from whatever materials that could be salvaged. The streets were no better¡ªjagged and filthy, they would writhe underfoot and turn into sloshing cesspools whenever the rain poured down. Fortunately, today was dry, leaving the streets hard and firm, though coated in a layer of dust.

    As Alan and I went our separate ways from Gunther to begin our investigative work, the young cook caught up with us, asking if we were still hungry¡ªfully aware that our breakfast had been far from satisfying. He suggested we visit the Blowfish Man¡¯s restaurant, noting Alan¡¯s particular interest in pufferfish. Though reluctant at first, Alan agreed¡ªmuch to my delight! I reasoned that we needed a real proper meal for the challenging work ahead of us; surely, I couldn¡¯t manage on a stomach full of bland, watery mush alone.

    The restaurant was on the top of the rig. We hopped onto an elevator. It creaked and groaned, swaying slightly as it ascended, its old boards trembling under our feet. Suspended by thick ropes that ran over a massive pulley, the elevator was balanced by iron cylinder weights on the opposite side.

    The ropes strained as the platform slowly rose, and the frame shook with every shift of our weight, as though it might give way at any moment. Every jolt sent a nervous tremor through me. Gunther, who had a little fear of heights, held tight to the thin railings, while Alan leaned against them with her hands in her pockets, gazing out at the other sprawling boroughs below us.

    As soon as the elevator arrived at the landing platform, I quickly stepped off, feeling an immense sense of relief to be on solid ground again. I took a moment to walk in a small circle, savoring the stability beneath my feet.

    Old Rig was alive. It wasn¡¯t just bustling. It was vibrating. It was a tangled mass of humans crammed into the walkways. Vendors crowded like barnacles on a ship¡¯s hull, hawking their goods, their voices overlapping into a strange, hypnotic rhythm.

    Sheets of dried seaweed flapped lazily in the humid air, next to buckets of fresh fish twitching, caught just hours before, their scales still slick with ocean brine. Clothes fashioned from fish scales and bits of scavenged tech from the junk piles shimmered under the sun.

    The air up here was different. Not cleaner¡ªno, never that¡ªbut charged. Up here, the scent was of frying oil, greasy and enticing, sizzling in iron pots, frying morsels to fill both belly and spirit. The scent drifted through the air like a primal lure, tantalizing and irresistible, causing my mouth to water instantly.

    The Blowfish Man had staked his claim in Old Rig¡¯s square, where his large tent stood like a shrine to the sea¡¯s oddities. One side of the tent showcased an impressive row of fish on metal trays, each one arranged in a way to catch the eye of any passerby. In the open space beside the display were a few plastic tables and fold-out chairs, offering a humble spot for diners.

    The centerpiece, however, was the tank¡ªa large, glass enclosure filled with seawater still briny from the ocean¡¯s depths. Inside, live pufferfish drifted, bobbing and floating with an almost hypnotic grace. Contrary to Dr. Willis''s warnings for being poisonous deadly creatures, they didn¡¯t look particularly dangerous or menacing. In fact, they were almost¡­ cute. Smaller than I had imagined, their tiny forms seemed delicate, harmless even, and they showed no sign of being intimidated by me. They swam right up to me, pressing their strange faces against the glass, staring at me, as if daring me to get closer.

    Challenge accepted. I took a step forward, my paw reaching for the tank when, without warning, a large shadow loomed over me, darkening my view. I spun around and found myself staring into the deeply lined, weathered face of an old man. His eyes were narrowed, glaring down at me with a hardness that made my breath catch.

    ¡°Get out of here!¡± the Blowfish Man snarled, pointing a long, glinting carver¡¯s knife in my direction. ¡°I said scram you filthy animal!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Alan shouted, stepping between me and the old man. She wedged herself in front of me, her posture tense, eyes blazing as she stared him down. ¡°Put the knife down. The cat¡¯s with me.¡±

    The old man, still gripping the blade, lowered it only slightly, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. His glare shot up to meet Alan¡¯s, undeterred by the fact that she towered over him by at least a head. He held his ground, his voice sharp as he declared, ¡°No animals allowed.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t need to worry about the animal,¡± Gunther chimed in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he swaggered over. With a casual, almost dismissive gesture, he slapped a hand onto the man¡¯s frail shoulder. ¡°Page isn¡¯t just any cat¡ªhe¡¯s well-trained and part of the NOAH 1 family. He''s more human than feral.¡±

    The old man¡¯s eyes flicked from Alan to Gunther, his scowl deepening as he processed Gunther¡¯s words. But, despite his obvious irritation, something in the mention of NOAH 1 made him pause, his grip on the knife loosening. Grunting, he motioned for them to sit at one of the tables, then shot me a sharp glare and growled, ¡°Don¡¯t touch the fish. I¡¯ll be keeping an eye on you.¡±

    I padded softly toward the table, my movements measured and deliberate, before settling myself upon a low, plastic stool beside Alan. A quiet vexation simmered within me, the sting of the old man''s words¡ª ¡°filthy animal¡±¡ªstill fresh in my mind. Who was he, some decaying remains of a world gone wrong, to throw that label at me?

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    With the quickness of an albatross diving for prey, I watched him seize a pufferfish from the tank, his hands deft and unfeeling. The fish, startled by its sudden fate, ballooned itself into a swollen orb¡ªa futile defense against the inevitable. As it deflated, slowly, accepting its fate, the chef struck. His knife pierced just above its head in a precise and cold motion. Then, he dumped the fish into a bowl of water, the liquid shifting from clear to blood-red in seconds.

    After expertly skinning and slicing the fish, the old man arranged the raw delicate cuts on a plate, then set the dish along with a dipping cup before Alan and Gunther. I leaned in, sniffing the air around the fish. Except for the black goo in the dipping cup, the scent wasn¡¯t pungent; it carried a clean, fresh aroma. My curiosity stirred, and I licked my lips, tempted to indulge in just a small taste. Gunther swooped in, snatched a piece, dipped it in the sauce, and quickly devoured it, casting me a sidelong glance with a playful smirk.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind,¡± Alan began, addressing the Blowfish Man, ¡°if I ask you a few questions.¡±

    The old man took a step back, his expression wary as he eyed her. ¡°Depends on the kind of questions you¡¯re planning to ask.¡±

    ¡°Do you fish these pufferfish yourself?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever sold a live one to a customer?¡±

    He paused for a moment, weighing whether or not to tell her the truth. ¡°I don¡¯t usually sell, but if the offer is good, I might consider it,¡± he replied at last, carefully avoiding the question. ¡°Why do you ask? Are you looking to trade for a pufferfish? It¡¯s going to be a tough deal unless you¡¯re willing to catch one yourself.¡±

    ¡°I was wondering if you traded a fish with the owner of an apothecary.¡±

    The old man frowned, his gaze drifting as he shuffled back toward the open kitchen. ¡°Alright, I did trade a fish for a new special sauce to go with the dishes I make, but I have no idea if the guy was an apothecary owner. What people do for a living is none of my concern.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the sauce is absolutely delicious!¡± Gunther exclaimed with enthusiasm. ¡°I''ve never tasted something like it before.¡±

    He picked up a piece with his fork, dipped it into the dark sauce, and offered it to Alan, teasingly waving it in front of my face. ¡°Why don''t you give it a try?¡± he said with a grin.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t the least bit curious why he wanted the pufferfish?¡± Alan continued, ignoring the sauce-drenched piece. My mouth watered uncontrollably, a single thread of saliva hanging from my bottom lip.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°But surely you know the pufferfish carries a lethal poison,¡± Alan said, his tone sharp.

    ¡°And so?¡± The Blowfish Man shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m certain he was aware of that too.¡±

    ¡°He could have used it to hurt someone,¡± Alan pressed.

    ¡°How was I supposed to know his intentions?¡±

    Alan¡¯s expression grew grim. ¡°Three children from my ship were poisoned. Only one survived. The poison came from a pufferfish.¡±

    Gunther''s face paled, his expression crumbling. "So, the rumors were true," he muttered, his voice shaking. "The Kelpings... I can hardly believe it!¡±

    A heavy silence followed. The Blowfish Man''s face clouded with a somber look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss,¡± he said quietly. ¡°But again, how could I have known his true intentions? If you¡¯ve got something I need, then you''ll get what you want from me. I don''t need to ask questions; it always gets you into trouble when you don''t mind your business!¡±

    I snatched the piece with my paw, catching Gunther off guard as he jerked back in surprise. The sauce hit my buds¡ªsweet, yet salty, with a bit of tang. It was an unusual flavor, unlike anything I''d tasted before. The fish¡¯s delicate flesh melted on my tongue; it was firm yet supple. The flesh had a subtle chewiness. Its taste was clean with a faint brininess that danced on the edges of my palate. The combination of the fish and the rich, black sauce elevated me to an entirely new level of culinary delight.

    Alan picked up the dipping sauce, inspecting the viscous substance inside. ¡°Is this what you traded the fish for?¡± she asked, glancing at the Blowfish Man, who was busy splitting a mackerel before tossing it onto the stove.

    ¡°It''s a special sauce,¡± he replied.

    ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡±

    ¡°Even I don¡¯t know. Only the trader holds that secret.¡±

    With sarcasm dripping from her voice, Alan said, ¡°So, you don¡¯t usually sell fish, but you¡¯ll trade it for a sauce without even knowing what¡¯s in it? Oh, that makes perfect sense.¡±

    The Blowfish Man threw her a side glance. ¡°Have you tasted it?¡±

    Alan dipped a piece and ate it. She paused, as if struck by something extraordinary. Her gaze settled on the sauce, and without hesitation, she reached for another slice of pufferfish, eager to dip it again.

    Smirking, he turned his attention back to the stove.

    ¡°The trader was an odd one. I doubt he was from around here¡ªnot from Floating City or any of the big ships like NOAH 1,¡± he said. ¡°He wore a mask over his face and carried an oxygen tank with him. The moment I tried the sauce, I knew I had to have it. When I asked where he had gotten it, he said it was from where his home was. I asked where that was, but he didn¡¯t answer. He just handed me a large canister of the sauce and took his fish.¡±

    He pointed at the small crowd now streaming into the tent, filling the empty tables, while others slowly formed a line outside.

    "The trade was worthwhile," he said with a satisfied grin, turning to serve the waiting customers.

    Amidst the crowd gathered outside, I noticed a peculiar non-human creature. It was small, with four stubby legs and a coat of scruffy, dust-caked fur, a dingy gray that suggested it hadn''t seen water in who knows how long. Every instinct in me bristled, but none in a pleasant way. As the line dwindled, the creature inched closer, finally giving me a clear view as it slipped into the tent. I knew it! That sly little canine! Lee, the thieving mongrel!

    He was eyeing the pufferfish in the tank, which rested precariously atop a rickety wooden table. Our eyes locked for a second.

    "Out!" I screeched, leaping onto the table, startling both Alan and Gunther.

    ¡°Page! What¡¯s gotten into you, boy?¡± Gunther exclaimed.

    Alan, trying to soothe me, reached out with steady hands to calm me down. But I wasn¡¯t having any of it. I swerved out of her reach. Couldn¡¯t they see? There was a filthy, wretched animal sneaking around, right under their noses! How could everyone be so blind? My fur bristled with frustration as I circled back, every instinct screaming that this trespasser didn¡¯t belong here.

    But with a mischievous glint in his eyes, the dog bolted straight for the tank. In one swift motion, it knocked the whole thing over. The tank crashed to the ground, glass shattering in all directions, water flooding the floor. The pufferfish flopped around helplessly, puffing up in terror, its eyes wide with shock.

    The Blowfish Man whirled around, his face twisted in fury, eyes blazing as he raised his knife. ¡°No animals allowed!¡± he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos.

    Lee, unfazed by the threat, darted forward, snatching a pufferfish by the fin with his jaws. Gasps rippled through the crowd, Alan and Gunther frozen in shock. A woman screamed, and someone knocked over a chair in their scramble to back away.

    Without missing a beat, the dog bolted from the tent, pufferfish flopping wildly in his mouth. I sprang off the table, my feet barely touching the ground as I leaped over puddles of water and broken glass. I tore through the flaps of the tent, eyes locked on the thief. I wasn''t about to let him get away that easily.

    I bolted through the crowd, weaving between legs and dodging scattered crates. Up ahead, Lee ran, his tail wagging like this was all some game. The marketplace of the Old Rig was a chaotic mess of smells and sounds¡ªgrilled meats, pungent spices, the shouts of vendors haggling with customers¡ªbut none of it mattered to me.

    My eyes were locked on him. I quickened my pace, my paws barely making a sound as I zigzagged around barrels and skidded past carts of lobsters and shellfish. Shoppers yelped and stumbled aside as we tore through their midst, scattering baskets of clams and seaweed and sending fish and crabs into a panicked flutter.

    Lee glanced back, eyes glinting with mischief, and knocked over a stack of clay pots in its desperate sprint. But I wasn¡¯t giving up that easily. My tail twitched with the thrill of the chase, and I could feel myself closing the distance, my muscles tensing for the perfect moment to pounce. He suddenly veered left, leaping onto the wooden platform of an elevator just as it began to go down. I chased after him and caught right up to him on the elevator, my claws digging into the rough wood.

    The elevator wasn¡¯t empty. As soon as I landed beside the dog, startled gasps and shouts erupted from the passengers¡ªtwo wide-eyed men in worn jackets and an older woman clutching a basket of vegetables. They pressed themselves against the back of the elevator, eyes darting between me and Lee as if they couldn¡¯t decide which of us was the bigger threat. The woman shrieked when he growled, still holding the flopping fish in his mouth, his eyes wild.

    I crouched low, preparing to spring at him, but before I could make my move, the dog did something reckless. He launched himself off the side of the platform. The passengers gasped again.

    I approached the edge carefully, mindful not to lean too far over. For a moment, I hesitated, my body tensed, torn between chasing him and the drop below. I watched, wide-eyed, as Lee sailed through the air, legs stretched wide in a desperate leap of faith toward a distant stack of crates below, time seeming to slow as he flew.

 Chapter 6: Rats

    I was a kitten, just a few months old but something in me had already started to change. Maybe it was the early days of awareness kicking in, that growing sense of the world expanding beyond the limits of my small, warm corner on the ship. It wasn¡¯t enough to watch from the sidelines¡ªI had to be in it, to see the world for myself, feel it under my paws.

    So, on one of Gunther''s countless supply runs to Floating City, I clambered aboard after him, my tiny legs struggling to steady myself against the pull of the wind. Gunther wasn¡¯t too thrilled to see me. His brow furrowed and his mouth set in that familiar line of exasperation. After a moment''s pause, knowing that resistance was futile, he sighed and tucked me inside his heavy pea coat, my small body pressed against his warmth as the world outside turned colder and sharper.

    The wind bit at us. It had a sharp edge, cutting through the air with a bite as crisp as the sea spray. The boat rocked beneath, but inside his coat, it was quiet and almost still. There, I nestled, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the muted roar of the wind lulling me into a kind of contented daze.

    At the top of Gunther''s ever-growing to-do list was a task that had, disturbingly, become routine¡ªfetching rat meat from the vendor.

    People didn¡¯t use to eat rats. In times long past, it was scarcely imaginable that people would turn to rats for food. I recall the fragmented, almost dreamlike stories Jimmy would recount from his childhood¡ªtales from the pre-Great Wrath world, when he lived on a farm. He spoke of a pastoral existence where cows, pigs, chickens, sheep, goats, and horses populated the land; their existence was as integral to life as the soil beneath one''s feet.

    In those days, people ate these animals. But they no longer exist. They didn''t survive the Great Wrath. In this new reality, rats have become the primary source of meat, other than fish.

    The rats were everywhere now, multiplying so rapidly that the city itself seemed alive with their presence, teeming with darting shadows that skittered just out of sight, lingering on the edges of perception.

    Humans and cats, in a silent and unspoken alliance, worked side by side without hesitation, capturing as many of the vermin as possible. Rather than letting the carcasses go to waste, they were prepared and served for human consumption¡ªscrubbed clean of grime, their wiry hair stripped away, gutted, and roasted over open flames.

    The sizzling skins sent a smell into the air that made my mouth water. But Gunther looked torn. His expression betrayed a flicker of unease, as if this strange new food was something forbidden¡ªsomething you shouldn¡¯t crave but found yourself drawn to regardless. He wondered aloud if there was still a difference anymore between necessity and desire¡ªor if those words had long since lost their meaning since the rebuilding after the Great Wrath.

    As Gunther bent low, inspecting the live rats crammed within the wire cages beside the fryers, his attention was suddenly drawn to a figure approaching from the crowd. It was a man cradling a tattered box in his arms and he threw it before the rat vendor''s feet. And from the box emerged the heads of several curious creatures¨C furry, short-legged, and floppy-eared. He referred to them dismissively as "mutts," declaring with a wry grin that they could potentially fast become the newest delicacy.

    The vendor paused to examine the small, trembling creatures before her. Her weathered face furrowed with curiosity, and I, too, leaned in for a closer look¡ªthis was the first time I had ever laid eyes upon a member of the canine species.

    She scratched her head thoughtfully, her brow knit in mild disbelief. "They don''t look like they''d provide much meat," she said. ¡°Rats are easier to fatten up, skin, and grill. They''re less work, and they reproduce faster.¡±

    The mutts whimpered. Their tails wagged furiously as though this was the moment they¡¯d been waiting for¡ªthe moment the universe might tilt in their favor. They clambered over one another, paws scraping at the cardboard edges, trying to escape the box that held them in.

    Among the pitiful assembly was one dog that stood out¡ªa small, white creature with a striking patch of brown fur encircling his left eye, which stretched upward over his head, covered his ears, and ran down the length of his spine to the very tip of his tail. His appearance alone might have drawn attention, but it was his actions that truly set him apart. While the others cowered in their cardboard prison, this brave little dog, driven by an instinct for survival, made a desperate leap over the edge of the box. Summoning all the strength contained within his small, quivering frame, he threw himself boldly against the side of the box.

    It wobbled, then tipped over. Its flimsy structure collapsed beneath the force of his will. What followed was chaos: barking, yelping, bodies skittering in all directions, minds overwhelmed by this sudden, disorienting freedom.

    At that very moment, I leaped from the folds of Gunther¡¯s pea coat. Gunther stumbled, startled by one of the frantic creatures zigzagging between his feet. Flailing his arms, he fought to regain his balance. But his efforts were in vain. He crashed into the stack of rat cages.

    The impact was violent enough to jolt the cage doors open, and in an instant, the vendor¡¯s prisoners¡ªdozens of wild-eyed rats¡ªseized their chance for freedom. They poured out in a desperate, squealing mass, scattering in every direction, eager to escape the foul confines of the death-stall that had, until moments ago, promised their grim end.

    Amidst the sea of startled faces and stampeding feet, I spotted him again¡ªthe white dog with the unmistakable brown patch over his eye. He moved like a force of nature, weaving through the crowd, causing as much disruption as the rats now did. People shrieked and stumbled back, knocking over baskets and sending vendors stumbling. As I watched him disappear into the crowd, I felt a strange certainty come over me: this would not be the last time our paths would cross.

    ***

    I followed Lee into a narrow alleyway, the distance between us shrinking as his pace faltered. Without warning, he dropped to the ground, rolling onto his back, his legs splayed wide, front paws pointed upward in a posture that seemed both unnatural and eerily serene. The pufferfish he''d been carrying fell from his mouth, flapping weakly on the pavement, its spiny body twitching feebly. It flapped and struggled for a moment, then gradually, its erratic movements slowed until they ceased altogether.

    Lee lay there with his tongue hanging limply from the side of his open mouth. I inched closer. Was he dead? For a moment, I believed he had succumbed to some toxin and became a victim of his reckless appetite. His eyes were shut tight, his face contorted into an odd, twisted grin.

    Then, his chest rose in a sudden, deep breath, followed by a tremor that rippled through his whole body. A sound, low at first, grew louder until it burst from his throat in a wild, uncontrollable laugh¡ªa laugh so full of mirth and mischief that I could hardly believe it.

    Lee wasn¡¯t dead at all. He wasn¡¯t even in danger. He was simply lost in some euphoric trance, intoxicated by whatever strange effect the pufferfish had brought upon him.

    His eyes fluttered open, shining with amusement, and I stood there, half in disbelief, watching as he reveled in his bizarre state. Lee was not just alive¡ªhe was, it seemed, thoroughly enjoying himself in a way only he could.

    ¡°I couldn''t thank those dolphins enough for this,¡± he managed between fading bursts of laughter.

    ¡°I thought you were dead,¡± I said, my voice cold and even. ¡°You do realize that this kind of fish carries a lethal toxin!¡±

    I moved toward the pufferfish¡¯s bloated form, careful not to make contact, for even the slightest touch could probably kill me. I leaned in, catching the faintest odor. The creature''s eyes bulged out, its mouth gaping in a final, voiceless scream. No doubt about it¨C it was gone.

    ¡°Yup, I''m aware of that,¡± Lee replied with a strange, distant gleam in his eyes, ¡°But if you know the trick, if you know just how to press, it won''t kill you. Instead, it¡¯ll set you free.¡±

    ¡°And how exactly did you learn to get high off pufferfish toxin?¡±

    Lee rolled over and got to his feet, swaying slightly from side to side. ¡°The dolphins, of course. After I had escaped the Shelter¨C¡±

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    ¡°¨Cwhere a thief ought to be¨C¡±

    ¡°I bolted down to the docks and dove into the nearest dinghy like a fugitive on the run¨C¡±

    ¡°¨CWell, you are¨C¡±

    ¡°¨Cfigured I¡¯d catch a quick nap, let the chase blow over. But when I woke up, I was no longer dockside¡ªI was adrift, smack in the middle of the goddamn sea! That¡¯s when I realized: some idiot had forgotten to tie the mooring line to the cleat. Of course, this is my luck. Stranded. Alone.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, what a tragedy.¡±

    ¡°Then, out of nowhere, a pod of dolphins swam up and asked me what the hell a dog was doing alone out here,¡± Lee continued to yap. ¡°I told them, straight up, I¡¯d broken out of the Shelter¡ªthe place was a prison¡ªand I needed to get back to the city.¡±

    ¡°And how did they react?¡±

    ¡°My story didn¡¯t even faze them. They nudged the dinghy, one by one, bumping me in the right direction, all cool and calm like they¡¯d done it a hundred times.¡±

    ¡°I''m sure they''ve come across sea-stranded dogs many times before.¡±

    ¡°The journey didn¡¯t take long¡ªmaybe an hour, maybe less¡ªbut it stretched out like some odyssey. Time does weird things when you¡¯re stuck at sea with nothing but hunger gnawing at your gut and dolphins for company. Somewhere along the way, they showed me how to milk a pufferfish for its toxin. They said it¡¯d take the edge off the hunger, give me a kick. And holy hell, they weren¡¯t wrong! That stuff hit me like a yacht crashing into a ship¡ªoh man, it was just enough of a kick to forget about being hungry, just long enough to keep going.¡±

    ¡°And now you''re addicted to this toxin and have been stealing from the Blowfish Man.¡±

    He scoffed and shook his head. ¡°Stealing? No, no, man, that was the first time, I swear! I just needed a kick, you know? Just one more. A good one.¡±

    He stopped and eyed me curiously. ¡°But hey, what about you?¡± he asked. ¡°What were you doing up there with those cats in the Blowfish Man¡¯s stall? Looking for a kick yourself, huh?¡±

    I straightened up, chest out. ¡°I¡¯m on duty. Important investigative work.¡±

    ¡°Exciting!¡± he exclaimed, ears perking up, tail wagging furiously. ¡°What kind of investigation?¡±

    ¡°I can''t tell you the details. It''s an ongoing case.¡±

    His ears drooped, tail slowing. As I turned to leave, a thought struck me. I paused, glancing back. ¡°Actually,¡± I started to say, ¡°There might be something you can help me with.¡±

    His tail was wagging again, faster this time, hope revived. ¡°What is it? What can I help with? I¡¯m always up for a bit of adventure and fun.¡±

    ¡°You know the lay of the land, don¡¯t you?¡±

    He nodded confidently. ¡°Of course! I was born and raised here, you know that.¡±

    ¡°Right, so you¡¯d be familiar with most of the vendors and shop owners.¡±

    ¡°Most of them, yes. I can tell their scent well enough to know whether I love, like, or dislike them.¡±

    ¡°Do you know of an apothecary owned by a strange masked man?¡±

    Lee''s face clouded with concern. ¡°Oh, so you''re looking for that man.¡±

    ¡°Do you know him?¡±

    ¡°I think I know who you''re talking about, but I¡¯ve never interacted with him directly. He always gave me a bad feeling whenever our paths crossed.¡±

    Intrigued, I settled in, keen on hearing more. ¡°Go on. What do you mean by that.¡±

    Lee paced in a small circle before finally settling down across from me, his expression thoughtful. He cleared his throat before beginning his tale of how he encountered the masked stranger.

    ***

    Nobody knew where the stranger came from or how he ended up in Floating City¡ªhe just appeared one day, like he slipped out of a dream or drifted in on a cloud of fog. One moment, nothing; the next, there he was, setting up an apothecary in some old corner shop.

    And you could tell, right off, he wasn¡¯t one of the locals. Not just ¡®cause he never took off that mask¡ªsome freakish thing strapped to his face, all tubes and metal, tethered to an oxygen tank strapped to his back like he¡¯d just walked in from another world, or another planet. He moved like a ghost, silent, distant, always keeping himself just out of reach, even though he stood right there.

    He walked around like he owned the place¡ªan air of authority, like he knew every alley and shadow in Floating City. But here¡¯s the thing: nobody knew him, and he sure as hell didn¡¯t know anyone. Not that it mattered to him. The locals wore what you¡¯d expect¡ªkelp tunics, fish scale vests, some wrapped in seal or shark skins.

    But not this guy. No, he strutted around in a dark metallic blue one-piece suit that clung to him like it was vacuum-sealed¡ªlong sleeves, the whole deal. And over it, a heavy silvery coat, flapping behind him as he moved. Then there were the boots¡ªthick, heavy, and hard as iron, each step landing with a thud that shook the ground around him.

    A bizarre figure, no doubt about it. He didn¡¯t fit, didn¡¯t try to, but that¡¯s what made it so damn curious. You couldn¡¯t look away. A man out of place, out of time, stomping through the streets like he was on some kind of mission that only he knew about. Weird as hell, and nobody could figure him out.

    And nobody really wanted anything to talk to him, no sir, except to get their hands on whatever strange medicine he brewed up. People whispered about his potions, swore they worked faster than anything they¡¯d ever seen¡ªlike magic, almost too good to be true. Some even claimed he pulled a kid back from the edge of death, like snatching life right out of the jaws of the void. But that¡¯s as far as it went¡ªget the medicine, then get the hell away before anything about him got under your skin.

    While the stranger did some good, ever since he showed up, things have been getting real strange around here. First, it was the rats. They started disappearing. Now, you''d think that would be a blessing, right? Vermin gone, problem solved!

    But it didn¡¯t feel right. When the street rats vanished¡ªeither hiding or just poof, gone¡ªsomething else was going on. The rats at the vendor stalls? They weren¡¯t disappearing; they were being stolen. Like someone was out there, collecting them for God knows what.

    People are starting to worry there¡¯s gonna be a meat shortage coming, and that¡¯s bad news for animals like us because when the meat runs out, they might turn to us¡ªhell, they tried to eat me when I was just a pup. I remember that all too well, the way their eyes looked at me, circling around me like vultures. So now, with the rats disappearing, everyone¡¯s on edge. But I know who¡¯s behind it. Yeah, that¡¯s right¡ªthe Masked Stranger. He¡¯s the one taking them.

    I got hired by a rat vendor to guard his rats¡ªpretty straightforward gig. He promised me a meal after every shift, but only if none of his rats got swiped. Fair deal, I thought. He kept them locked up tight, stacked in cages with a dirty sheet thrown over them, like that¡¯d do anything.

    I could still hear them, squealing every so often, and a few of the clever ones even tried talking to me, whispering through the bars. They promised me real food if I let them loose. But I didn¡¯t bite. You can¡¯t trust rats. They¡¯re born liars, all of them. You can¡¯t trust a word they say.

    So there I was, circling the stall, pulling guard duty. First night? Nothing. Dead quiet. Boring as hell. Second night? Same deal. But I wasn¡¯t complaining. It wasn¡¯t all bad; at least I got a meal out of the deal. Then came the third night... and that¡¯s when I screwed up.

    I let my guard down, nodded off for what felt like a second. Next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by this rustling sound and those high-pitched squeals. I shot up and there he was¡ªthe Masked Stranger¡ªright in front of me, clear as day. He was taking the rats, zapping them with some kind of weird metal stick with buttons, knocking them out cold, and shoving them into a bag.

    I barked at him, full force, teeth bared¡ª¡°Hey, you! Stop right there, motherfucker, or I''ll tear your leg clean off if you don''t put those rats back!¡±

    But of course, humans don¡¯t understand a damn thing we say. To him, I was just some crazy dog, barking like mad. He stopped for a second, and when I tried to bark again, he pulled out the little stick with the buttons on it. Before I could react¨Cbam!¨Cthis tiny ball of light shot out and hit me square in the throat. Next thing I knew, I couldn¡¯t make a sound¡ªnot a growl, not a bark, just a pitiful wheezing cough. And then, the bastard bolted.

    I chased him as fast as my legs could carry me, followed him all the way back to his shop, but he slammed the door in my face. The next morning, the rat vendor was pissed off, incredibly furious. He blamed me for the whole mess. He dragged me down to the Shelter, said I was a bad dog, that I let his rats get stolen. That¡¯s how I ended up there, at the Shelter¡ªbranded as a failure for trying to stop that masked son of a bitch. It was only for a few days but a day there felt like a year.

    Oh, and another th¨C

    ***

    Lee came to a sudden halt mid-sentence. His spine stiffened, every sinew drawn tight. He straightened, head jerking slightly as his eyes locked onto the dead end of the alley. Something was moving there. I, too, felt it¡ªa creeping sensation. Instinct overtook me as I rose to my full height, my claws unsheathed, ready to strike at whatever horror lay ahead.

    Slowly, a form materialized, rising from the heaps of discarded filth, like a creature dredged from the blackest depths of the ocean. Its shadow stretched upward against the alley wall into the unmistakable shape of a monstrous rat. Against the grime-streaked wall, its shadow loomed monstrous, warped into the silhouette of a colossal rat. Its eyes were twin orbs of blinding white cutting through the darkness. Its movements were jerky and unnatural.

    But it wasn¡¯t the creature¡¯s bulk that set my fur bristling and sent icy tendrils crawling up my spine. As the thing advanced, its mouth yawned open, and something worse than razor-sharp teeth emerged. A nest of thin, writhing tendrils spilled forth, serpentine and vile, quivering as they stretched toward us.

    I could almost hear them, the sickening, whispering slither of living threads tasting the air, seeking flesh. They seemed to pulse with a life of their own, independent of the thing that birthed them. Whatever this thing was, it was not of our world.

 Chapter 7: A Fight

    The red threads had ensnared my paws, winding themselves tightly around my legs as I struggled to free myself. I tugged at the strings, but every pull only bound me further in the web of my own making. Sam sat across from me on the carpet rug, lost in a fit of hysterical laughter, his face red, hands gripping his sides as though he might split apart from the intensity of it.

    Meanwhile, Anne remained on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, absorbed in the pages of some old thick book. Her eyes flicked up from the text, a frown forming as she glanced over at Sam. She said nothing, though her silence spoke of a quiet disapproval rather than outright reproach.

    Sam had been digging through his mother¡¯s cabinet drawer, an act that seemed harmless enough. Joe, always the voice of caution, had warned him¡ª¡±don¡¯t do it, Sam, you know that Mom will get upset¡±¡ªbut the youngest Kelping child, for all his good nature, carried within him that stubborn streak, the same impulse that drives most children to test the boundaries of their world, even if punishment was just on the horizon.

    Somewhere deep in the drawer, Sam unearthed a ball of red yarn, round and tightly wound. Without a second thought, he tossed it casually to the floor, where it rolled and spun in a series of lazy circles before coming to rest directly in front of me.

    At first, I didn¡¯t know what to make of it. The yarn¡ªit seemed innocuous, but my brain played with possibilities. Could it be alive? Or worse¡ªcould it be watching me? I raised my paw cautiously, my instincts firing off signals of both curiosity and caution. My claws extended and lightly tapped the soft, fibrous surface of the ball.

    I swatted at it again, trying to provoke a response, a reaction¡ªanything. I half-expected it to scuttle away like some strange creature of the deep. But the thing just wobbled there and rolled a little farther, taunting me with its stillness.   Then, in an instant, I found myself locked in a struggle with the thing. The yarn, innocent at first glance, had somehow come alive¡ªor perhaps, I thought, it was always alive, and I had only now become aware of its intent. Its red strings unraveled and wrapped themselves around my paws, my legs. I pulled, I twisted, but the more I fought, the tighter it clung to me. Who was really in control here? Was I wrestling with the yarn¡ªor was it wrestling with me?

    ***

    ¡°For God¡¯s sake, Page! Snap out of it!¡±

    Lee''s yelp jolted me from the fog of distant memories, thrusting me back into our present ordeal. The red threads were alive, bent on choking the very breath from our lungs. We were helpless, their hold tightening with each passing moment.

    Lee clenched his jaw, thrashing his head side to side in a frantic attempt to keep the threads at bay as they probed, seeking a way in. His eyes, wide with terror, darted wildly, searching for any means of escape.

    My teeth clenched as the red threads also sought entry, slithering around my face, eager to pry their way in. I lashed out with my claws, swiping at them frantically, but they were slippery. They slipped through my claws as though coated in oil, their slick, sinewy forms twisting and dodging every attempt to grasp them. The harder I clawed, the more they multiplied and weaved around us. Still, I fought, not knowing if escape was possible, but knowing that the alternative¡ªa complete surrender to this beast¡ªwas a fate far worse than any death I could imagine.

    Just as my muscles reached the brink of collapse, something else moved with quick speed. It dropped silently from the tangle of clotheslines above and soared over the rat, twisting its body in midair before coming down hard on the creature¡¯s back, sinking all four sets of claws into its flesh. A paw, claws extended, rose and sliced through the air and found its mark¨Cthe rat''s head.

    The blow sent the rat skidding across the grimy pavement. The tendrils slackened just enough for me to crawl out of reach, though the entire scene felt surreal¡ªlike a half-forgotten dream I couldn¡¯t shake off.

    The monstrous vermin rose, unleashing a furious scream that rippled through the air. It lunged at the cat, slashing with its hooked claws, while its tendrils lashed out wildly. One coiled tightly around the other cat''s neck, but with a sharp hiss, the cat struck back, swiping at the tendrils and tearing itself free.

    More tendrils lashed out, one wrapping around my hind leg and yanking me to the ground. This time, its touch burned like fire, searing through my skin. But I couldn¡¯t give in¡ªwe couldn¡¯t. We all had to fight.

    Lee snarled, sinking his sharp canines into the writhing tendrils, tearing them apart with savage fury. I clawed and bit at them too. The taste was vile, bitter like rusted metal and blood, but I didn¡¯t care. I ripped a few free and spat out the shredded pieces.

    Whoever it was standing behind the rat sunk its teeth into the back of its neck, and it bit down, hard. Bones crunched beneath the jaws. The rat staggered, bleeding from where the claws and teeth had torn into its body.

    I glanced over and saw Lee frantically scrambling away from the tendrils, his back pressed against the cold wall, a guttural growl rising from his throat as he bared his sharp canine teeth.

    The rat tumbled to the ground, lifeless, but as it did, its body convulsed. The tendrils continued to twitch, as if they hadn¡¯t realized their host was dead. They retracted, slithering back into the rat¡¯s mouth.

    Then, something began to writhe. The thing inside it¡ªwhatever it was¡ªwas weakening, but it wasn¡¯t done. It tore through the rat¡¯s mouth, splitting its head like overripe fruit with an audible crack. And from the gory mess sprung a shapeless, throbbing pink blob, with hundreds of tendrils probing and tasting the air, then latching onto the ground. The thing began to drag itself across the ground, its tendrils pulling it forward inch by inch.

    They reached out toward the pufferfish, searching for new life to inhabit. The blob attempted to merge with the dead creature, but its thrashing soon faltered, slowing to weak, erratic twitches. Moments later, it stilled completely, shriveling into a desiccated, motionless gray husk.

    I winced as I tried to take a step, my whole body aching. The spots where the tendrils had gripped throbbed with a sharp, stinging pain. I lowered my head and began licking one of the burns on my leg. The metallic taste of blood lingered as I cleaned the dirt from the gash, the sting slowly fading with every lap.

    ¡°What the hell was that thing?¡± Lee gasped, still catching his breath.

    ¡°It¡¯s as much of a mystery to me as it is to you,¡± replied a voice from the shadows. That voice¡ªI recognized it instantly. A wave of unexpected relief washed over my rattled nerves. I looked up to see its owner.

    Our hero stepped into the light, carefully skirting the shriveled blob. His sleek, muscular body was covered in short, blue fur. It was a hue of deep cerulean blue that shimmered like the ocean waves.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Without wasting another second, we rushed toward each other. His tail shot up in excitement, and a joyful meow escaped his throat.

    We had started the same¡ªpulled from the same litter discarded in the trash. But from there, our lives took paths neither of us could have foreseen. He remained behind in the Floating City, while I found my way aboard NOAH 1. And now, here he was¡ªmy blood, my brother. Ziggy.

    He greeted me with a delighted headbutt, and I responded with a playful swat at his ear. We circled one another, pausing to rub our sides together, savoring the warmth of our shared bond.

    Ziggy winced and staggered back, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps. But then he straightened, forcing himself to stand tall.

    ¡°You''re hurt!¡± I exclaimed, noticing the slow seep of blood where the rat''s nails had sliced through fur and flesh on his shoulder.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s merely a scratch,¡± he replied with forced nonchalance. But I wasn¡¯t fooled; I could sense the discomfort pulsing through him, masked by a thin veneer of indifference.

    ¡°So, how did you find out I was here?¡± I asked.

    He glanced between me and Lee, a chuckle escaping his lips. ¡°You two stirred up quite a commotion on the Old Rig.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because I was trying to catch Lee for stealing and destroying property!¡±

    Lee rolled his eyes. ¡°Nobody got hurt, at least. Well, I mean¡­¡± His voice trailed off, his eyes shifting to the dead pufferfish and the blob. ¡°But that''s not my fault!¡±

    ¡°Anyway, I happened to be up there myself,¡± Ziggy continued, ¡°just picking up a fresh mackerel for my missus, when I heard a loud crash from one of the tents. The next thing I knew, a dog came barreling out with a fish in his mouth, and a very pissed off cat screeching right on his tail. So, I thought it had to be you, brother.¡±

    ¡°Thank God you found us!¡± Lee exclaimed, his tail wagging. ¡°We¡¯d have been dead meat, I swear! Cooked!¡±

    I crouched closer to the blob, its sickly sweet odor of decay growing stronger. My attention drifted toward the rat next. It wasn¡¯t just big. It was unusually large, almost my size! The largest rat I had ever laid eyes on.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this,¡± I muttered in awe and disbelief.

    Ziggy, standing beside me, seemed unfazed. ¡°I have,¡± he replied calmly, his face growing serious. ¡°I''ve been seeing more of these... things cropping up lately. The humans dismiss them as odd sea urchins or strange anemones. They think they''re harmless¡ªat least, harmless to them. But to us..."

    He pointed at the rat, its headless and mangled corpse sprawled before us. ¡°Well, you can see the result for yourself.¡±

    ¡°Where do you think they¡¯re coming from?¡± I asked, a knot of dread tightening in my chest. "Could this have something to do with the masked stranger?¡±

    Ziggy looked toward the alley¡¯s entrance, where a few pedestrians had gathered, drawn by some perverse curiosity. As soon as they registered the scene¡ªthe headless rat, the deflated blob, the bloated fish¡ªhorror twisted their faces, and they recoiled, retreating back into the safety of their mundane lives. I envied them in that moment, their ignorance, their ability to look away and keep walking.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not talk here,¡± Ziggy said, his tone clipped, as he agilely vaulted onto a pile of boxes. Without hesitation, he sprang toward the ledge of the half-wall at the alley¡¯s end. ¡°Follow me,¡± he added.

    We followed him down yet another narrow alley, which soon opened into a market alive with activity. Faces flickered in and out of focus, lost in the rituals of daily survival. We moved on, crossing a bridge, leading us to the next borough ¨C Little Eden, where the humans had built sprawling greenhouses. Within these glass domes, constructed from soda bottles, mugs, and shards of colorful glass resembling a kaleidoscope, their fragile crops struggled to thrive¡ªa  desperate attempt to control what little of nature remained.

    Jimmy had told the younger stewards about this once. It was before the Great Wrath¡ªbefore everything had gone sideways. He¡¯d been on his farm, watching the slow decay of the world. The world, he had said, seemed to be teetering on the edge of disaster, and he knew that he ought to preserve a fragment of it¡ªnot just for his own survival, but for the future of humanity.

    Seeds¡ªhe had to save the seeds. He boxed them up, hundreds, maybe thousands, with the quiet certainty of a man who knows that the future no longer belongs to him. But when the storm of destruction came, fast and without warning, there wasn¡¯t time to think, only to move. He couldn¡¯t take them all, not by a long shot. But he saved what he could, clutching those boxes, the last pieces of the old world, as he held on tight for his dear life.

    Although the seeds had been saved and humans could grow food once more, Little Eden was not immune to the threat of rats¡ªcunning little creatures that would slip in under the veil of night, intent on pilfering a carrot or radish from the garden¡¯s bounty. That¡¯s where we came in, the cats. The gardeners relied on cats to patrol the grounds, to hunt down the vermin. Whether the rats lived to be sold to a vendor or died, it mattered little to them, so long as the greenhouses remained untouched, the fruits of their labor unspoiled by the gnawing teeth of marauders.

    A multitude of cats roamed Little Eden, guarding and loitering outside the domes. And if they weren''t on duty, they rested in makeshift shelters that could snugly accommodate four cats. The gardeners routinely tidied these homes and replenished the bowls of food and fresh water.

    Ziggy and his forever partner, Wanda, resided within a large plastic bin draped with a translucent tarp, propped above like a tent supported by slender metal rods. Their humble abode lay nestled near the entrance of a dome.

    ¡°What''s taken you so long?¡± A cat slipped gracefully through an opening cut out of the bin. Her fur was a map of delicate swirls and stripes in tawny browns, burnt oranges, and soft grays. Her emerald eyes, flaring with both worry and annoyance, softened the moment they met mine.

    ¡°Page! Is it truly you?¡± She cried with a bright expression. ¡°It''s been months¡ªso many months!¡±

    She rushed toward me, her forehead brushing mine in a gesture of affection.

    ¡°Sorry I haven¡¯t been by as much as I should,¡± I replied, feeling a twinge of guilt in my chest.

    ¡°That¡¯s because he¡¯s been off living the high life, playing shipmate,¡± Lee interjected with a hearty laugh, a crooked grin twisting across his face.

    Wanda turned toward him, offering only a brief nod. ¡°Lee,¡± she said, her tone sharp as a blade, ¡°nice to see you out of the Shelter for once.¡±

    ¡°I never belonged there. That place isn¡¯t for me.¡±

    ¡°But have you been staying out of trouble?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, you know, I don¡¯t go looking for trouble,¡± Lee smirked, ¡°trouble always finds me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Her words dripped with skepticism.

    Ziggy cleared his throat, interrupting their exchange. ¡°I hate to say it, my love, but I need to go out again.¡±

    ¡°Again?¡± Wanda¡¯s voice was edged with frustration. ¡°Did you even get the food for¡ª¡± She stopped abruptly, her eyes locking onto the dark stain on his shoulder. ¡°Blood! Ziggy, what happened?¡± Concern flashed across her face.

    ¡°We had a brief encounter with a vermin,¡± Ziggy replied, casually.

    ¡°A rat? Oh god¡­ was it¡ªwas it possessed?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but don''t worry, it¡¯s gone now.¡±

    Wanda shuddered as a tremor ran through her body. ¡°I hate it when you''re out there too long. It¡¯s too dangerous with those things crawling around. I can¡¯t bear the thought of something happening to you, like what happened to Tinker.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I have to show Page what became of Tinker,¡± Ziggy said, his tone firm but gentle. ¡°He needs to see what¡¯s been happening in Floating City since his last visit.¡± In a gesture of comfort, he nuzzled his head against her cheek, a soft purr escaping him. ¡°But I won¡¯t be long. I promise.¡±

    At that moment, a chorus of small voices echoed from the house. One by one, four little furry heads peeked out from the open doorway, their eyes wide and curious. They stared at me and Lee for a moment, but the second they caught sight of Ziggy, their dark gray eyes lit up. In unison, they cried out with uncontainable joy, ¡°Papa! Papa!¡±

 Chapter 8: Tinkers Fate

    The shack where Tinker was quarantined was built from corrugated metal sheets held together by mismatched bolts and a web of wiring. Old road signs, some faded and dented, served as makeshift panels. An old chain-link fence had been repurposed as ventilation on one side, while parts of a broken-down refrigerator formed the door.

    Two orange cats stood sentinel by the door, their narrow eyes scanning the surroundings with hyper-alertness. As soon as they spotted Ziggy, their stiff postures relaxed, their sharp eyes softened and they greeted him with a nod. But when their eyes set on Lee and me, they were guarded, filled with suspicion.

    They spoke to Ziggy in low, clipped tones, informing him that Tinker''s condition had worsened. He was fading, and time, as always, was running out. The news had already begun to ripple through the borough. The once calm gardens of Little Eden, where the cats protected against vermin, lounged, and lived a free life in relative peace, had turned into a hive of anxiety. They were now fracturing in the face of uncertainty as fear took root in their hearts.

    After a brief exchange with Ziggy, the guards gave Lee and me another once-over, still suspicious but ultimately stepping aside, granting us silent permission to enter. The second I crossed the threshold, a wave of nausea gripped me, and an icy shiver crept down my spine. An uneasy tension coiled within me, refusing to be shaken off. My breath caught in my chest.

    At the far end of the room, tied to a long metal pole with rope and strings was Tinker, a gray-furred cat unusually large¡­ nearly twice my size! He had a muzzle strapped tight over its mouth. As we stepped further in, his head jerked up, ears twitching, sensing our presence. He twisted, contorted in short, desperate movements against the restraints. A low growl rumbled from deep inside his chest¨Ca sound both feral and heart-wrenching.

    The eyes¡ªthose eyes¡ªstaring at us were dull, fogged with something half-dead. But if you looked closely, you could still catch a faint glimmer of blue, a fragment of who he once was. But also something else. A kind of tragic, terrible awareness. He was disappearing fast, his mind slipping away like a memory.

    ¡°My god,¡± Lee gasped under his breath. ¡°What happened to him?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s inside him?¡± I asked, noticing movement in Tinker''s chest. ¡°Is it another blob creature? Like the one we saw in the rat.¡±

    ¡°Tinker patrolled at night,¡± began Ziggy. ¡°We heard him shouting. There was a fight in one of the greenhouses¡ªthere were pots and glass shattering. Then came a terrifying screech. When I went out to investigate, I found Tinker sprawled in the greenhouse, unconscious. Next to him was a dead rat, its chest had been ripped open, as if something had clawed its way out from inside.¡±

    ¡°Then, like what Page said, it must''ve been the blob thing,¡± Lee concluded.

    ¡°At first, we didn''t notice anything unusual,¡± Ziggy continued. ¡°The gardener brought Tinker in and had a veterinarian examine him. He was fine, physically unscathed, the vet said. So, he was allowed to go back home where he lived with his mother and brother.¡±

    ¡°But then¡­¡±

    ¡°Tinker began to grow, until he was almost double our size and with that growth came an aggression that was wholly unlike him. One day, during a heated argument with his brother, he nearly turned on his own family. Fortunately, a few of us¡ªmyself and a couple of other cats¡ªarrived just in time to intervene. As he came at us, I caught a glimpse of them¡ªtendrils writhing in his mouth. That was the moment I realized he was infected.¡±

    ¡°How did you manage to tie him down?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy,¡± Ziggy replied, wearily. ¡°It took several of us to restrain him and bring him here.¡±

    He looked at Tinker, his eyes heavy with sorrow. As if unable to bear the guilt any longer, he turned away, head down. ¡°There''s only one way out for him, I''m afraid.¡±

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°But there has to be a way to remove the blob thing from him,¡± I said. My heart was heavy. It was a difficult truth to accept¡ªthe chilling realization that this fate could befall any of us. ¡°Or perhaps, the humans could help him.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s as good as dead either way, and if that thing escapes, it could possess one of us¡ªit needs a host.¡±

    I sighed. So, it seemed the decision had already been made.

    ¡°As for the masked stranger,¡± Ziggy added, ¡°these creatures started showing up right after he arrived. I doubt that¡¯s a coincidence.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. I need to find out who this stranger is.¡±

    I told Ziggy and Lee about the poison Sarah Kelping had bought from him¡ªpoison laced with some unknown sweet substance. But now, with the discovery of that blob-thing, there had to be more to the masked stranger. He was dangerous, that much I could feel. So, what was he here for?

    ¡°Where will you start your search?¡± Ziggy asked.

    ¡°The apothecary, of course. I figure we''d find our answers there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± he insisted. ¡°It could be dangerous out there.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. You have Wanda and four kittens to care for. They need you here.¡±

    ¡°Look!¡± Lee exclaimed, tilting his head toward Tinker. ¡°I think he''s coming around!¡±

    He was right. Tinker''s clouded eyes sharpened, as if the fog within his mind had momentarily lifted, and he seemed to recognize Ziggy through the haze. Though his voice was stifled by the restraint of the muzzle, we strained to make out his desperate plea. He was pleading for an escape, but then it struck me: for him, escape meant death.

    ¡°Do it quickly¡ªplease,¡± he begged. ¡°I can¡¯t do it anymore. I don''t want any more pain... no more.¡±

    Inside him, something dark and alien was writhing, fighting to seize control of his mind and body. His face contorted, not from the external restraint, but from the internal battle he could barely hold at bay. It was ravaging his very being. Clawing at the edges of his sanity.

    Ziggy stepped closer, mindful to maintain some distance. ¡°You¡¯ll find peace very soon,¡± he said, his voice carrying a note of solemn reassurance.

    ¡°So how exactly are you planning to¡­¡± Lee began, ¡°you know... take him out?¡±

    I swatted him behind the ear. ¡°What a thing to ask!¡±

    Lee flinched, taking a step back. ¡°Just curious.¡±

    Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted outside. Voices strained with both anguish and fury. The sound jarred me. We hurried out of the shack, temporarily blinded by the harsh daylight. There, Tinker¡¯s mother and brother stood locked in a heated argument with the two guards, who looked unsure whether to stand their ground or retreat in the face of such raw emotion.

    ¡°Let my son go! Tinker didn''t mean what he did!¡± Tinker¡¯s mother was red-eyed, her voice cracking, but she pushed on. ¡°Don¡¯t kill my son!¡±

    Ziggy boldly stepped between her and the guards. Tinker''s brother, like some cornered animal, arched his back and hissed, fangs bared in a flash of hostility. His hackles bristled. His bright yellow eyes, fierce and unblinking, locked onto Ziggy with a glare that promised danger if harm came to his mother.

    Ziggy remained calm.

    ¡°There must be a way to save him!¡± Tinker''s mother begged, desperation in her voice. ¡°I beg you, please¡ªfind a way!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s little left of your son in there. You should say your goodbyes now¡ªhe might still be able to hear you.¡±

    Tinker''s mother, her sobs wracking her frail frame, stepped hesitantly into the shack. Her surviving son followed closely, his head gently nuzzling her side in a tender gesture of comfort, as though to lend her the strength she so desperately needed. We stood by the entrance listening to the muffled sounds of a grieving family. Their farewells, thick with emotion, filtered through the walls.

    After some time had passed, Ziggy stepped inside the shack, just as one of the guards escorted Tinker''s family out. There was no resistance. This was an inevitable moment.

    Other cats began to crowd near the door, drawn by the same morbid curiosity. We heard shouts¡ªloud and frantic¡ªfollowed by a chilling, ear-piercing screech that froze the very blood in my veins. Then, abruptly, all fell silent, save for the soft sobs of Tinker¡¯s mother.

    A few cats approached, attempting to offer comfort, nuzzling their heads against Tinker¡¯s loved ones or gently licking their cheeks in a tender, empathetic gesture. Others began to hum a mournful tune, one we had heard many times before at the funeral rites conducted by humans. The melody, steeped in grief and reverence, resonated through the gathering. The very essence of our collective despair had coalesced into that somber song.

    When Ziggy and the two guards stumbled out of the shack, their faces solemn, I refrained from asking how they had done it¡ªthere was no need. Some things were better left unsaid. A single glance at Lee was enough to warn him into silence. He nodded and kept his lips tightly sealed.

 Chapter 9: Help From An Unlikely Creature

    I had at last arrived at my destination, but not without complications, detours, and the kind of chaotic incidents that seem to multiply whenever Lee was involved. First, he had darted off in pursuit of a scurrying vermin that he¡¯d spied from the corner of his eye, leading us down an unnecessary alley.

    Meanwhile, both Ziggy and I, were slaves to our ravenous hunger and we were drawn to the scent of a vendor¡¯s fish. When the man behind the stall refused to toss us even a single mackerel, we were left with no alternative. We acted on impulse¡ªquick paws and adrenaline surging. In a flash, we swiped a fish from his basket while his back was turned. It¡¯s not like he¡¯d notice one missing.

    We bolted, slipping into a hidden nook behind a pile of crates, where we devoured our prize in quick, hungry bites. And so, after that brief escapade, here we stood at last¡ªon the front steps of the apothecary. It was tucked at the corner of a busy street, not far from the very same vendor where Sam and his siblings had indulged in fish cakes and starfish on their last jaunt through the Floating City with their mother.

    But the door was locked tight, and a red placard hung off a rusty nail to its surface declaring ¡°Sorry, We¡¯re Closed.¡± Even the windows were sealed shut with curtains drawn tight, barring any glimpse within.

    We ventured into the narrow alley, noses to the air, trying to sniff out a hidden entry, a backdoor, anything. But there was nothing. No secret entrance, no loose panel in the wall offering a secret path. Above us, the windows on the second floor were tightly shut and far beyond our grasp. But then, I noticed it¡ªjust a sliver of an opening, a crack in one of the windows.

    It was almost laughable, though. Even if we could somehow scale the wall or make an impossible jump, the gap was too small for any of us to squeeze through.

    "What¡¯s the plan now?" Lee asked, his tail wagging with a stubborn determination, unwilling to concede defeat just yet.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I started, but the words didn¡¯t have time to settle. ¡°There doesn¡¯t seem to¡ª¡±

    A noise. Soft, rapid, too familiar. Faint, rapid patter of tiny feet scurrying behind a pile of discarded bins and bags. My muscles tensed, instinct taking over. Could it be another one? An infected rat?

    Ziggy and Lee heard it too, their bodies stiffening as their ears perked up, eyes locked in the same direction as mine. The sound came again, clearer this time, followed by a faint shadow creeping along the wall¡ªa rat, its silhouette growing larger as it neared.

    My mind flickered¡ªbrief, violent flashes of memory. The tendrils, pulsing, writhing in the mouth of that diseased creature. It didn¡¯t just crawl out of the gutter, it crawled out of a nightmare. We all knew what was coming. Ziggy let out a low hiss, primal, like a pressure valve about to burst. Lee growled, his low rumble vibrating through the air.

    No time to think, only to act. I launched myself toward the sound. Claws out. Every part of me was wired to tear it apart before it could have a chance to spread its infection. I readied to strike, to cut, to shred the vermin to pieces.

    The vermin let out a sharp squeak, more fear than fight, and dodged my strike. My claws met only the flimsy surface of a nearby box, shredding its paper-thin material. The creature was fast¡ªremarkably so¡ªdarting around me in a blur. I spun, body reacting before my mind could catch up, swiping again, but all I hit was air.

    Ziggy made a valiant attempt to seize the creature with both his front paws, but  his injured shoulder caused him to falter. He stared, momentarily helpless, while Lee, unfazed, sprinted ahead. He pounced. Jaws closed around the creature''s tail. With a triumphant grin, Lee lifted the wretched creature off the ground, its frail limbs flailing helplessly as it dangled upside down, suspended in the air like a trophy.

    The rat shrieked in terror, its beady eyes wide with desperation, clutching a tiny bag as if it believed that this feeble trinket might somehow protect him from what we were about to do. It was almost a pitiful scene to witness. This vile, disease-ridden creature clinging to its last vestige of hope.

    ¡°Please... don¡¯t kill me!¡± squeaked the rat. It cast frantic glances between us, its tiny body quivering. ¡°I beg you!¡±

    I moved closer, watching as Lee gripped the creature¡¯s tail firmly between his teeth. The rat was a young male, much smaller than the infected one we had fought and killed, and even noticeably smaller than the average rat I would usually encounter. He was a runt. His fur, a deep, shadowy gray, was matted and uneven, while his glossy black eyes gleamed with stark, unmistakable fear.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°C-could you put me down first?¡± he sputtered, his voice trembling. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t run. It¡¯s just... with all the blood rushing to my head, I¡¯m feeling a bit lightheaded. I can¡¯t seem to think straight.¡±

    At my nod of approval, Lee released his grip, and the rat dropped to the ground with a muted thud, using his small bag to cushion the impact. He quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing dust from his fur before slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

    ¡°My name¡¯s Flynn,¡± he said, his voice tense. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get into the apothecary.¡±

    Ziggy eyed him warily before asking, ¡°What for?¡±

    ¡°My family. They''ve been taken by a masked stranger. Rumor has it, he brings the rats he kidnaps into that shop.¡±

    "Do you know what he does to the rats in there?" I asked.

    Flynn nodded grimly. ¡°He¡¯s experimenting on them. Sometimes, he lets a few back into the streets, but they¡¯re never the same. They grow larger than us and there¡¯s something inside them¡ª¡±

    ¡°They''ve got monsters in them, that¡¯s what!" Lee burst out. ¡°Monsters with tendrils that¡¯ll strangle you if they get the chance! We¡¯ve seen it¡ªwe even killed one!¡±

    ¡°Sadly, those who were released had to be restrained. They became aggressive and hostile, and in the end, they had to be put down.¡±

    ¡°Your family will meet the same fate,¡± I said gravely. ¡°And still, you wish to save them?¡±

    With fiery indignation, he looked me in the eye. ¡°Yes, of course! My brothers and sisters are there. It may not be too late¡ªI must try to save them!¡±

    ¡°And you''ll save them without the help of other rats?¡±

    ¡°They''re all too afraid¡ªeveryone is. They think I''m mad for going out on my own, but no one else is willing to step up. So yes, it¡¯s just me on this mission.¡±

    ¡°And how exactly do you plan to get inside?¡± Ziggy asked, glancing up at the building with its shut windows. ¡°I don¡¯t see any way in.¡±

    Flynn pointed to the window with the small hole in it. ¡°A kid threw a rock up there during my first attempt to get inside. He thought it would be amusing to knock me out. I dodged but lost my footing, slipped, and broke my leg when I hit the ground. The rock struck the window instead.¡±

    He lifted his left leg to show us the healed injury. ¡°It¡¯s all healed up now.¡±

    ¡°You could open the front door for us or unlatch one of the windows,¡± I suggested, as an idea formed in my mind, ¡°that is if you can make your way up there and get inside. I have important matters to investigate, and the answers I seek are in that apothecary.¡±

    Flynn hesitated, his bravado faltering. ¡°Why should I help you?¡± he stammered, attempting to mask his trepidation, yet a tremor betrayed his resolve. ¡°You¡ªy-you nearly took my life! You tried to rip me up into pieces!¡±

    ¡°And we''ll take your life if you don¡¯t help us!¡± Lee growled.

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    I shot a glare at the dog, silently urging him to back down. Turning back to the rat, I forced out the words, feeling them as distasteful as mush for breakfast. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll owe you a small favor.¡±

    ¡°Any favor?¡±

    I hissed in response. ¡°Within reason.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Alright, then. I know what I¡¯d like to request.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Let my clan take some food from Little Eden without the cats attacking us. It¡¯s already tough enough to scavenge from the vendors and the garbage, especially since we¡¯re marked as targets for sport or food.¡±

    ¡°That''s not my call; that decision rests with my brother,¡± I said, nodding toward Ziggy. ¡°So, what do you say?¡±

    Ziggy frowned and glanced at the rat, his expression polite, but I could see the contempt simmering beneath the surface. He pondered for a moment before finally saying, ¡°No more than one piece of fruit or vegetable per week for a month.¡±

    ¡°Five per week for a year,¡± Flynn countered.

    ¡°Three per week, every other month for a year. That¡¯s the best I can offer; any more than that would raise suspicion among the gardeners, and then we¡¯d both be in trouble with the humans.¡±

    ¡°Alright, deal.¡±

    Flynn extended his right hand for a handshake, a gesture I¡¯d witnessed among humans when they struck a deal. I supposed rats had adopted the same ritual. A scowl creased Ziggy''s lips, a flash of fang betraying his irritation, but he caught himself. Carefully, he placed a paw atop the rat''s hand.

    Satisfied, Flynn went straight to work. With his hands clad in a pair of sandpaper-like gloves pulled from his well-worn bag, he scaled the brick wall toward the second-story window. When he reached the narrow ledge, he paused to survey his surroundings. Then he retrieved a square sheet of kelp from his bag, using it as a shield against the jagged edges as he squeezed himself through the opening.

    Once he was inside, we hurried to the front door, anxiously waiting for it to be unlocked. After a while, I began to pace in circles, muttering to myself about my stupidity for trusting the rat. Vermin would always be vermin¡ªprone to lies, theft, and deceit! Any living being with a modicum of common sense would know better than to place their faith in such creatures. I was nothing short of a complete fool!

    Ziggy and Lee were clearly thinking the same, both pacing in restless circles. Lee stared hard at the door, his frustration building up until he let out a couple of sharp barks. Ziggy quickly hushed him, reminding us all that we didn¡¯t want to draw attention from the humans. A few had already paused, throwing curious glances in our direction before continuing with their day.

    Just then, my ears caught a faint click, followed by the creaking of hinges as the front door slowly began to open. It stopped, slightly ajar, and a small, dark gray head peeked out¡ªit was Flynn. Above him, perched on the door handle, was another young rat, watching us with large, frightened black eyes.

    ***

    Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least not at first glance. Behind the counter, shelves were lined with glass vials, jars, and bottles, each filled with herbs, powders, and liquids that shifted in color¡ªfrom black to light blue.

    But, there was something off, a lingering unease beneath the orderliness. The place was too neat, too precise. A deathly quiet permeated the room. The silence wasn¡¯t just quiet¡ªit was stifling, like the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to break the delicate stillness.

    I could already picture Lee stumbling around, unwittingly toppling a bottle from the shelf, setting off some catastrophic chain reaction that would shatter the stillness inside. It didn¡¯t take much in a place like this¡ªone wrong move and the whole fragile order could come crashing down, dragging us along with it.

    Luckily, I¡¯d managed to convince Lee to stay outside. Stationed at the entrance like a vigilant sentry, his only job was to bark if anyone approached¡ªespecially the masked stranger. That way, those of us inside would have just enough time to hide, or at least brace ourselves for whatever weirdness was about to go down. It wasn¡¯t exactly a foolproof plan, but a little warning would help.

    The clinking of glass echoed softly through the room. I glanced up to find Flynn scaling one of the shelves with his brother, Rusty, close behind. The two of them were inspecting a bottle containing flower petals. Rusty wrapped his small arms around it while Flynn worked the cork free from its neck with a wire tool.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± I whispered, keeping my voice low, wary that the masked stranger¡ªif he was anywhere near¡ªmight hear and come for us. ¡°Are you trying to get us caught?¡±

    ¡°It''s alright, there''s nothing to worry about,¡± Flynn replied, reaching into the bottle and packing his bag with petals. ¡°The owner isn¡¯t here, not even upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Where could he be?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Hard to say, but I¡¯ve heard he leaves the city sometimes. Takes a boat out to sea and vanishes for a few days.¡±

    ¡°Just vanishes?¡±

    ¡°That''s right. Vanishes.¡±

    ¡°To where?¡±

    ¡°No one really knows.¡±

    Flynn moved to the next jar, this one filled with a fine white powder. Rusty, the stronger and slightly bigger of the two, tilted the jar just enough for Flynn to reach inside. From his overstuffed bag¡ªits seams already threatening to give way¡ªFlynn pulled out a tiny, bent spoon. He scooped a bit of the powder and funneled it into a small plastic bag.

    ¡°And what exactly are you planning to do with that?¡± Ziggy asked as he watched the rodents with growing suspicion.

    ¡°I¡¯m the healer in my village,¡± Flynn replied. ¡°Medicine¡¯s hard to come by. There aren¡¯t many apothecaries in Floating City, and this one is the best stocked by far.¡±

    ¡°But Flynn, we need to hurry and get the others,¡± Rusty interrupted, his voice trembling with unease. He cast a nervous glance at me and Ziggy before asking, ¡°Are you sure we can all get out of here... alive?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them,¡± Flynn said, sounding oddly confident than earlier when he was dangling upside down with his tail clamped in Lee''s teeth. ¡°We¡¯ve come to a truce.¡±

    ¡°Where are the others?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Upstairs,¡± Flynn replied, his voice tight. ¡°Locked in cages. But there¡¯s another room across the hall¡­¡± His words faltered as he glanced at Rusty, who shuddered visibly at the mere mention of the room. ¡°That¡¯s where¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where I¡¯d hear the rats scream,¡± Rusty cut in, his voice strained with dread. ¡°Our brothers, our sisters, our cousins¡ªeveryone we know. He takes them into that room. The Kill Room. No one ever comes back the same. He changes them.¡±

    Flynn quickly finished gathering the supplies, stuffing them into his already overburdened bag. Without another word, he and Rusty leapt from the shelves and darted up the staircase. Ziggy and I exchanged a grim look before following  close behind.

    The first thing that hit my nose hard was the stench¨Ca foul, suffocating odor that clung to the air like it was trying to choke me. The room was entirely different from the neat and orderly space downstairs. Rusted wire cages were stacked one upon another, leaning like they might collapse at any moment. One cage on the bottom row stood open, its floor smeared with crumbs and filth. That had to be where Rusty had been kept.

    As soon as Flynn and Rusty appeared, the rats in the cages erupted into a chorus of cries¡ªdesperation, joy, grief, all at once. So consumed were they by the sight of Flynn and Rusty that they barely registered Ziggy and me standing there. The two rodent brothers set to work, skillfully picking the locks of each cage with a wire tool, their hands steady despite the chaos around them.

    On the far side of the room stood a workbench, its tools hanging on a metal pegboard. But what really caught my eye were several strange lumps of black rock scattered across the surface. I jumped onto the table to get a closer look, and as soon as I examined them, I realized they weren¡¯t rocks at all. They were fashioned from a strange, glossy black metal.

    I tapped one lightly, and to my astonishment, a blue light flickered, swirling across its surface and tracing the intricate spiral lines and grooves etched into the device. It pulsed with an energy that seemed almost alive.

    ¡°What did you find?¡± Ziggy called from below. He tried to leap onto the table but fell short, staggering back as his injured shoulder prevented him from making a full jump.

    ¡°I thought they were rocks,¡± I said, still examining the strange objects, ¡°but they¡¯re not.¡±

    ¡°Then what are they?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I replied, watching the glowing blue lines. ¡°It¡¯s probably some kind of device, but I have no idea what it¡¯s for.¡±

    I gave the device another gentle tap. It stirred to life, a low hum vibrating through the air, and then, without warning, the room erupted in a blue light that swallowed us whole. Everyone gasped. The rats cried out, steeped in disbelief and shock. Then, the room was quiet.

    Before our very eyes, a bird¡¯s-eye view of Floating City materialized, its grandeur sprawling across the room. Six borough islands circled Old Rig, each one a gem set in a shimmering azure sea, their contours perfectly defined in midair. I reached up to touch the radiant display, and as my paws brushed against the luminous image, it responded, zooming in on the exact spot I had touched. The image transformed, revealing layers of detail: the crowded street, the vibrant shops lining the avenues, the houses with their weathered facades, and the vendor stalls brimming with colorful wares.

    ¡°It''s a map,¡± I said, ¡°but I''ve never seen a map like this before.¡±

    The only maps I was familiar with were the ones constructed from kelp, carefully stored on the navigation deck of NOAH 1. I took pride in having joined Alan on a six-month expedition to chart the new world after the Great Wrath. Those charts illustrated a world drowned beneath endless water, where scattered islands of rubble and jagged rocks were all that remained of the past.

    But this map¡ªthis map was different. It was made of light, capturing life on Floating City as it unfolded in the moment. Just as I reached up to touch the map again, Lee¡¯s barking cut through the silence from outside. The signal. Someone was coming into the shop.

 Chapter 10: Another Rat in a Cage

    The moment my ears picked up the faint creak of the door opening downstairs, my senses snapped to attention. A jolt of adrenaline rushed through as I heard the first footstep cross the threshold. I sprang from the table, my eyes looking around the room for any place to hide or a way out. Ziggy stuck close, his eyes mirroring my panic, searching for the same hiding spot or escape route as he could feel the same impending threat crawling beneath his skin.

    The rats ran frantically from their cages, racing up the wall toward the cracked hole in the window. Rusty was already there, ushering them through, while Flynn was still fumbling with the stubborn lock on the last cage in the bottom row. Inside, the rat squeaked in panic, urging him to hurry. The lock finally gave way with a click and the cage door swung open. She bolted out in a flash, darting up the wall to join the others, then disappearing through the hole.

    ¡°Alright, that''s everyone,¡± Rusty said, glancing over the scurrying rats before signaling Flynn. ¡°Come on, let''s get out of here.¡±

    But Flynn hesitated. He swept the room like he was trying to search for a missing piece of a puzzle.

    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± he said, voice rising in panic. His eyes locked onto Rusty, filled with worry. ¡°I didn¡¯t see Wynn. Where¡¯s Wynn?¡±

    Rusty''s expression darkened. ¡°He was taken to the Kill Room... It¡¯s too late, Flynn. We can¡¯t save him.¡±

    Flynn¡¯s head shook vigorously. ¡°I won¡¯t leave him behind! You take the others home. I¡¯ll catch up.¡±

    ¡°Flynn!¡± Rusty¡¯s voice trembled.

    ¡°I said go!¡±

    As he took in a deep, resigned breath, Rusty¡¯s shoulders slumped. He turned, crouching down to slip through the hole.

    The footsteps were growing louder, now making their way up the stairs. In less than thirty seconds, someone¡ªGod help me if it was the masked stranger¡ªwould step through that door. My mind raced. Flynn darted to the far side of the table, hiding behind a leg, his small body shaking. I had seconds to decide, to act. There was only one plan that came to mind: someone had to go out there, create a distraction, buy the others enough time to hide or maybe even unlatch the window and slip through.

    Ziggy had a family; he¡¯d just become a father. The thought of Wanda and the kittens living without him was unbearable. It twisted my gut. I couldn¡¯t live with myself, not with that kind of guilt beating down on me for however many long years I had left in this world.

    And Flynn... well, Flynn was just a rat. He didn¡¯t stand a chance out there.

    It had to be me.

    ¡°Get that window open,¡± I ordered Ziggy, pointing to it with a paw.

    Ziggy shot me a bewildered look, his eyes wide with confusion. ¡°But what are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll distract the human,¡± I said, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. ¡°You focus on getting the hell out of here.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°Don''t worry about me.¡±

    ¡°Page, you¨C¡±

    ¡°I said don''t worry about me. Just do it!¡± I snapped, more forceful than I intended, knowing there was no time for debate.

    I slipped through the door, my claws instinctively flexing, itching to unsheathe. My whole body shook, every muscle wound tight like a spring. The hairs along my spine stood rigid as fear and adrenaline coursed through me. I dropped into a hunting stance¡ªlow crouch, back arched, ready.

    Then I saw it. Black hair. The top of a head coming into view, inch by inch. Dark brown eyes locked with mine as a face slowly emerged from the steps.

    ¡°Page!¡±

    The voice sent a wave of warmth through me. I knew that voice¡ªAlan! My heart surged. Alan! Without thinking, I leapt up, landing by her feet just as she stepped onto the top landing. It was her, after all this time.

    I weaved between her legs, brushing my side against her calves, tail curling up in an arc. Standing on my hind legs, I reached up toward her, my paws suspended in the air. She scooped me up in one smooth motion, cradling me in her arms like I belonged there.

    ¡°What in the world are you doing here?¡± she asked, relieved but confused.

    Alan, it''s a long story¡ªI wanted to say¡ªYou wouldn¡¯t believe me! First, the dog. Lee! Bad dog he is! Gets high off of pufferfish. Then we got attacked by a rat with a blob thing in its mouth. It tried to kill us. But my brother, Ziggy, came to the rescue and then we went to Little Eden, that''s where he lives. He''s got a forever partner and kittens! Four kittens! And, oh, poor Tinker! And his family¡­

    I know all she could hear was just me meowing away, but I wanted to show her how relieved and happy I was to see her.

    ¡°Gunther and I have been searching everywhere for you,¡± she continued, pulling me closer, her cheek pressing warmly against mine as her fingers found that perfect spot just behind my right ear. I felt a calmness spreading from my head to my toes.

    She sighed. ¡°You really scared me this time. I thought I lost you for good. You can¡¯t keep doing this! Don¡¯t go running off without telling me where you¡¯re headed, okay?¡±

    Oh, how I wished we could stay like this forever, wrapped in warmth and safety. But there were urgent matters to settle. I wriggled out of her embrace, already feeling the cold emptiness as I slipped to the floor and padded toward the door.

    ¡°Do you want to show me something?¡± she asked, curiously, as she followed me. Slowly, she pushed the door open, only to gasp at the sight before her.

    ¡°What in the world¡­¡± she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

    The blue light image of Floating City glowed in the middle of the room. She raised a hand tentatively and brushed her fingers on a spot¡ªthe seaport. The image zoomed in, focusing on a small boat bobbing on the water. One fisherman on the deck was untangling nets. Another sorted the fresh catch, sifting through a tub of clams and shrimp.

    With both hands, she pinched the map, the translucent grid expanding and collapsing under her touch like a living thing. The city shrank away, reduced to a sprawl of glittering grids and tiny nodes¡ªuntil she found it, the Council Hall. She zoomed back in, the map reconstructing itself in flickering layers of light. The Council Hall appeared in the air. Five stories of steel and stone, crowned by a glass dome that gleamed like a cold, unblinking eye. The tallest structure in the city.

    The black metal device, glowing neon blue, softly hummed as it projected the map of Floating City, the sprawl of it flickering in and out of focus. She hesitated, then stepped forward, her hand cutting through the light as she approached the rocks on the workbench.

    I vaulted onto the table, shielding my eyes from the bright light. Alan had already grabbed the glowing device. Her fingers grazed an unseen switch, causing the lights to stutter, the map glitching momentarily. Suddenly, Floating City vanished. In its place, an aerial view of the ocean appeared. Then, like a gannet plunging into the water¡¯s depths, we were thrown under sea.

    What I saw next defied everything I thought I knew. Mountain ranges rose from the ocean floor, their jagged peaks lost in shadow. In the valleys between them, the ruins of a forgotten civilization lay entombed¡ªskeletal remains of buildings, vehicles, roads¡ªall now claimed by swaying forests of sea plants. A world buried. A world waiting to be discovered.

    The image blinked, then sharpened, centering on a shadowy hollow carved into the mountainside. A red dot pulsed steadily in the darkness, drawing my focus deeper into the void. What lay beyond that gaping entrance? I couldn¡¯t tell. Before I could find out, Alan¡¯s hand moved quickly, brushing the surface of the device.

    The pulsating light vanished, and with it, the map; the image swallowed by the strange artifact until all that remained was the smooth metallic black rock. No more glowing lines, no more blue light, just its weird, etched patterns, silent once again.

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    ¡°This is¡­¡± Alan faltered, words failing as she stared at the device. ¡°Wow, I need to show these to Captain Francis and the City Council.¡±

    Without hesitation, she slipped the first device into the pocket of her dark green coat. As she reached for the second one, it came alive in her hand. A soft hum, and then a green light snaked through the etched lines. In a flash, the face of an old man wavered above it, suspended in the glow.

    Human¡­ At least, I thought so. But something wasn¡¯t right. His head was too large, the cheekbones misaligned, one jutted out awkwardly higher than the other. His thin lips stretched tight over a sagging, mottled face, speckled with odd patches. He looked tired, ancient, but there was a wrongness about him, a distortion that made my hackles rise.

    ¡°The Security Council received your message,¡± he said, his eyes were on Alan, or so I thought. Then I noticed the glazed, distant look. He wasn¡¯t speaking to her at all, but to something unseen. ¡°We are disappointed to learn that Phase One of the Resurface Mission is behind schedule. You must get back on track immediately. We need to advance to Phase Two¡ªhuman subjects¡ªwithin the month. No more delays. Submit a progress report to Central Command in three days.¡±

    As quickly as it had appeared, the image dissolved. The green light blinked out. The device fell silent, the hum fading to a dead hush. It was just a cold, black object again, inert and lifeless, as though it had never been anything more than an ordinary stone with strange etchings.

    ¡°Page¡­ is it safe?¡± Ziggy¡¯s voice came in a half-whisper, the kind that made you doubt whether he was more afraid of being heard or of the answer. His head emerged slowly from under the table.

    I glanced at Alan, who stood dumbfounded, staring at the devices. Her expression was hard to read, the kind you see on someone who¡¯s starting to question what reality actually means. I wasn''t even sure if I believed what I knew about the world was true anymore.

    ¡°You can come out now,¡± I said, keeping my voice low. ¡°It¡¯s safe¡­ for now.¡±

    But Ziggy lingered, as his eyes darted between me and Alan.

    ¡°She¡¯s with us,¡± I reassured him. ¡°She''s an officer from NOAH 1. We''re partners in this investigation.¡±

    Alan finally shook out of her reverie and swiped the rock off the table, putting it in her pocket with the other device. ¡°This is definitely something we need to tell the captain about,¡± she muttered to herself, ¡°What is the Resurface Mission? And¡­ human subjects? Maybe the city is in danger.¡±

    As she took a step back, a startled cry slipped from her lips. She nearly lost her balance, her foot skimming over Ziggy¡¯s tail as he darted out of the way. Regaining her footing, she glanced down. Her tense expression softened, and she knelt, extending a hand toward him, an unspoken invitation.

    ¡°Oh, hey there, little guy,¡± she said, gently. ¡°You must be one of Page''s friends.¡±

    Ziggy edged forward, hesitant, each step a wary calculation. His nose twitched as he sniffed her outstretched hand, testing the air around it. Then, he gave in, his body melting under her touch. Her fingers brushed lightly over the top of his head, and he leaned into the gentle scratch.

    The moment didn''t last long. Something gray streaked from the corner, slipping past the door in a blur. Instinct took over. I leaped from the table and raced after it. I didn¡¯t need to guess. Flynn. It had to be Flynn. Ahead, the door at the end of the hallway stood slightly ajar. I moved fast, pushing it open with my shoulder.

    I skidded to a halt. Flynn was climbing up the leg of a table. My breath hitched. Atop the table stood a large box with transparent sides, and inside, a dark brown rat. But this one¡­something was off. He was larger than the average rat. His black eyes had begun to cloud over, turning milky as if diseased or twisted by some unnatural mutation. He circled the cage restlessly, and every few seconds slamming his body against the walls with a dull thud, like he was fighting something inside of him.

    I glanced to the side¡ªa water tank, murky, with a blob suspended in the liquid. I blinked, trying to make sense of it. Then I saw more around the room. Tanks lined up, each one holding blobs with hundreds of tendrils drifting aimlessly within the stagnant water. This was the Kill Room. The place where the masked stranger performed his experiments, warping the rats into something else. Something that shouldn''t exist.

    Realization hit me about what Flynn was about to do. I lunged, swatting him off the table, and he hit the floor with a dull thud.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare get in my way!¡± he snarled, scrambling back to his feet, eyes blazing with fury. ¡°That¡¯s my brother up there!¡±

    He set his bag aside as its weight would slow his climb. Calling out, he said, ¡°Wynn! It''s me Flynn. Hold on tight. I''m coming to get you. We''re going home.¡±

    He made another run toward the table leg, but before he could climb it, I pinned his tail with my paw. He jerked back and tumbled onto his bottom.

    ¡°That''s not your brother anymore,¡± I said.

    ¡°I can''t just leave him here!¡± he choked, struggling to hold back a sob. But the look on his face told me he knew I was right. Whatever was in that cage was no longer the brother he once knew.

    In that instant, Ziggy burst into the room, with Alan close behind.

    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± they both gasped, their eyes wide with bewilderment as they stared at the tanks.

    Alan moved to the table, leaning in to peer into the box with a mix of curiosity and disgust. I stepped back, readying myself to leap onto the table, but paused when I felt a paw on my shoulder.

    ¡°Careful,¡± Ziggy warned. ¡°We don''t know what''s up there. This place¡­¡± he glanced nervously at the blobs in the tanks and then up at the box where Flynn''s brother was slamming himself against the walls. ¡°You know what? Maybe we should just get out of here.¡±

    ¡°I can''t abandon my duties, Ziggy,¡± I said. ¡°Don''t you want to know what happened to Tinker? To the rats? It can happen to any of  us.¡±

    Before he could argue, I made the jump and landed on the table, my paws hitting something flat, smooth, and cold. Stepping back, I realized it was a white stone slab with lines and odd geometrical shapes. I must¡¯ve pressed on something, because a green light came on and danced across the surface. Then I heard a faint ringing. It was quiet, but it was unmistakably there. Ziggy¡¯s ears also perked up at the sound.

    ¡°Where''s that sound coming from?¡± I wondered, looking around. Alan didn''t seem to be alarmed by it, maybe she couldn''t hear it the way we could.

    ¡°It''s everywhere,¡± said Ziggy.

    ¡°The sound is doing something to Wynn,¡± Flynn said, now peering into the box after climbing the table leg. His sudden appearance startled Alan, who staggered back with a cry of surprise and disgust.

    Flynn was right. Something was happening to Wynn. He had stopped slamming against the walls and stood perfectly still, his nose twitching as he looked in my direction, like a soldier awaiting orders. I touched the slab again, and the ringing shifted into a low hum. Wynn visibly relaxed, the cloudiness in his eyes fading. Now, he seemed to finally recognize Flynn.

    ¡°Flynn, is that you?¡± He asked, a sigh of relief escaping him. ¡°Are you here to take me home?¡±

    Flynn pressed his palms against the window. ¡°Yes, you''re coming home today,¡± he answered, ¡°and we''ll have a nice dinner with Mother, Rusty, Suzy, Yarn, and others in the village. I''ll ask Yarn to whip up your favorite¨C corn porridge. I made a deal with the cats; we can get whatever we want from Little Eden now.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that sounds wonderful,¡± Wynn said, though he sounded as if the dinner was more a distant dream than a real possibility. ¡°I''m kind of sick and tired of having that gloop the man kept feeding us,¡± he added, gesturing toward a small bowl in the corner of his cage, filled with a thick, clear liquid. ¡°It''s deliciously sweet, gives you a calming effect but I could really go for a bowl of corn porridge.¡±

    "What¡¯s that humming?¡± Alan asked, glancing around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the low hum. Her eyes fell on the white stone slab, and she added, ¡°Page, you probably shouldn¡¯t be sitting on that!¡±

    She waved her hand in front of me, gesturing for me to move aside. I hopped off and settled beside Wynn¡¯s cage as she carefully lifted the slab, avoiding the green light tracing lines across its surface.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to get you out,¡± said Flynn, inspecting the corners of the cage for a latch or a small opening where he could wedge his wire tool to pry it open.

    ¡°Flynn,¡± Wynn began, his voice heavy with resignation, "you and your friends need to leave this place.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? I told you, we''re going home.¡±

    ¡°No, don''t. I can¡¯t be helped. If I¡¯m set free, I¡¯ll be a danger to everyone. There''s something inside of me. I don''t know what it is but it''s controlling me.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that, Wynn¡­¡±

    ¡°Leave now!¡±

    Wynn slammed his fists against the window. Flynn flinched, stepping back, his face filled with devastation.

    ¡°Page! There¡¯s another door over here,¡± Ziggy called, moving toward a door in the corner of the room, partially concealed behind a row of tanks.

    Curious, I padded across the table, then leaped down to stand beside Ziggy, both of us staring up at the door.

    Alan! Come take a look at this, I called out.

    Alan set down the slab and walked over, frowning. ¡°What¡¯s going on, guys? Did you find something? Oh, another door..¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the Kill Room,¡± Wynn said.

    ¡°I thought this was the Kill Room,¡± I replied, glancing around the room we were in.

    ¡°No,¡± Wynn shook his head. ¡°This is the Operating Room. This is where the madman injected that blob thing into us. I remember¡­ he lifted the top of the cage, stuck me with something, and suddenly¡­ I couldn¡¯t move. My arms, legs, even my head. It was like my body was frozen. Then he just left the blob thing here with me. I couldn¡¯t escape¡­ I couldn¡¯t stop it. It came at me so fast. Everything went black after that. When I woke up, I was filled with rage¡­ but the madman controlled us, using sound.¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± Ziggy whispered, ¡°maybe we shouldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    But Alan''s fingers were already gripping the knob. As she slowly twisted it open, Lee¡¯s barking erupted outside. Louder, more frantic than before. The sound cut through the silence like a warning. Something was wrong. Lee never barked like that unless there was real danger.

    I tore out of the room and came to a stop at the top of the stairs. Below, the masked stranger was halfway through the door, thrashing as Lee¡¯s teeth sank deep into his leg. The dog snarled and growled.

    With a vicious jerk, the stranger finally shook Lee loose, kicking him brutally in the maw. Lee let out a pained yelp as he was hurled off the steps, and he crashed onto the pavement outside.

    The man stepped fully into the shop and slammed the door behind him with a heavy thud. My breath caught as his head snapped up. I ducked, backing away and pressing myself into the shadows, praying he hadn¡¯t seen me.

 Chapter 11: The Kill Room

    I felt myself suddenly lifted off the floor, snatched by the back of my neck. A yelp nearly escaped, but I choked it down, realizing any sound would draw the masked stranger. Alan, cradling me in one arm, closed the door behind us as quietly as she could.

    My whiskers curled. My nose scrunched up. The air hit my lungs. Dear god! It reeked. Like death laced with a chemical tang that stung my nose. Burned my eyes. Gagging, I fought the urge to retch.

    I wriggled free from Alan''s grip and landed silently on all fours, glancing around to get my bearings. There was something about this room that felt so warped. And then I realized¨C the Kill Room.

    The room felt off, more uncomfortable from the others, which had been dim and cramped, crammed with cages and tanks. This space was larger and white. A bright light filled the room, its source a half-dome fixture embedded in the ceiling, humming faintly.

    I caught sight of Flynn, curled up in the corner, nervously looking up at Alan.

    ¡°She won¡¯t harm you,¡± I reassured him.

    ¡°Can you blame me for not trusting humans?¡± he shot back. ¡°I¡¯ve seen her and others eat my kind. Now, they¡¯re taking us, using us for their twisted experiments.¡±

    ¡°Hey, both of you! Take a look at this,¡± said Ziggy, who had wandered over to the other side of the room, taking in the sight before him.

    Sprawled across the floor was a maze of twisting paths and dead ends. Streaks of dried blood stained the passageways, while small clumps of feces lay scattered throughout the maze.

    Then I saw it. A ball of brown fur. It was curled up in a corner. An unfortunate victim. Ziggy walked over and leaned in as close as he could without leaping over the mini-walls and into the maze itself.

    ¡°It''s dead,¡± he said, his whiskers twitching with apprehension and disgust.

    Flynn rushed to where Ziggy stood, but when he looked over the maze¡¯s wall and saw the lifeless rat, he lost his grip on the wall and slid down to the floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sight had shaken him to his core, and he crawled as far from the maze as possible.

    ¡°Did you know the rat?¡± Ziggy asked.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s hard to see one of your own like that,¡± Flynn replied, clearly upset.

    Ziggy glanced around, studying the maze¡¯s perimeter with interest. ¡°What do you think this maze is for?¡±

    I mulled over the bizarre sights we¡¯d encountered so far¡ªthe map projection of Floating City, in blue light; the rats trapped in their tiny prisons; the blobs in glass tanks.

    But what gnawed at me most was Wynn. The way he had snapped to attention, stiff as a puppet on strings, when that shrill frequency sliced through the air. His entire demeanor changed again, the instant the sound became a low hum, as if he¡¯d been shaken awake from a dream he hadn¡¯t known he was trapped in.

    I pieced each clue together, trying to solve an impossible riddle that may not even have an answer. Then, something clicked, once I had wedged a piece of the puzzle into the picture. A light went on inside my head. The truth was: it wasn¡¯t just Wynn who was being controlled, but the blob inside him, and the masked stranger held the remote. But for what purpose?

    ¡°To see if the rat could find its way through the maze,¡± I finally answered, ¡°under the masked stranger''s control¨Cmind control. And he must''ve used sound.¡±

    Ziggy tilted his head in confusion. ¡°Using sound to control?¡±

    ¡°Didn''t you notice how Flynn''s brother''s behavior switched when the pitch of the sound changed?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but come on! Sounds used to control the animals? That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Ziggy scoffed.

    ¡°It is possible.¡±

    ¡°But how?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the blobs.¡±

    Flynn and Ziggy muttered, ¡°The blobs¡­¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Once they''re infused in the body, you control the blob, and through the blob, you control the animal.¡±

    ¡°Control the blob-infected animal with sound.¡± Ziggy''s eyes lit up; he was starting to follow the thread of thoughts I was weaving together.

    ¡°That''s right, with sound. But it seems that most of the experiments haven''t been so successful.¡±

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    I pointed at the rat in the maze. As I leaned in, I saw its jaw unnaturally split wide, flesh hanging like a cracked, brittle husk. Not far from the body lay a shriveled blob, pale with streaks of sickly red where blood had dried and crusted, its hundreds of tendrils curled and withered.

    Meanwhile, Alan paced the room in a panic, muttering under her breath, ¡°Shit, shit, shit, what am I going to do?¡±

    She frantically searched for an escape, but there was nothing¡ªno other door, no window. We were trapped. She stopped at the table, her face twisting in disgust at whatever she saw there.

    Of course, naturally driven by curiosity, I climbed up to the table¡¯s surface for a closer look. What I saw nearly made eyes bulge from my skull. I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing, overwhelmed by a nauseating sight unlike anything I could have imagined. It made my soul shrink back in horror.

    ¡°What is it? What''s up there?¡± I hear Ziggy asking me from below.

    More dead rats.

    Three of them lay in a row, their abdomens split wide open, skin pinned down to the surface. Inside each of them, infecting every inch of their exposed organs, was a blob, shriveled and motionless.

    What made it even more horrifying was the fourth body. Except it wasn¡¯t a rat¡­ it was a cat. One that looked like me. Deep red and orange fur. He was cut open and pinned in the same manner, only this time with a larger blob nestled inside. I leaned over the edge, catching sight of Ziggy gazing up at me, his head cocked to the side, waiting patiently for my answer.

    ¡°Did you know of any other cats, besides Tinker, who¡¯ve been missing or infected?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Um, let me think¡­¡± Ziggy replied, scratching his head. ¡°Well, I heard that Blink from New Shire has been missing for a week now. His forever partner mentioned he went up to Old Rig for some food and just never came home. Why do you ask?¡±

    Flynn scrambled up the leg of the table and joined me on the surface, but once he saw the grisly scene, he stumbled back, slipping off the edge. He would have fallen if I hadn¡¯t grabbed him by his long tail just in time. I set him down beside me.

    ¡°It''s Blink, isn''t it?¡± Ziggy said. ¡°He''s up there¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, my dear god!¡± Flynn gasped, putting a hand over his heart. ¡°And more of my kind are dead. We''re being dissected like we''re nothing!¡±

    I stepped carefully around the carcasses, making my way to a tray of syringes and scalpels. Beside it sat a small glass dish filled with clear liquid, and next to that, a large bowl holding a deflated pufferfish, its body split open down the middle. Its insides had been removed and were now floating in the water.

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    Once Flynn regained his composure, he approached the syringes, inspecting them closely. His eyes went over to the dish and scrutinized the clear and odorless liquid before leaning in to sniff the bowl containing the dead pufferfish.

    ¡°I wouldn''t touch that if I were you,¡± he warned.

    ¡°It''s the pufferfish poison.¡±

    ¡°Yup, it is,¡± he confirmed with a slight nod. ¡°It could kill you in seconds. If you''re lucky, it''ll only paralyze you for life.¡±

    ¡°I''m very much aware of that.¡±

    Alan reached for the scalpel on the tray, gently pushing Flynn aside with a wave of her fingers.

    ¡°Alright, boys, time to make our move,¡± she whispered to herself. Her face was set, though there was fear in her eyes. ¡°If he¡¯s out there, waiting¡­ Well, we¡¯ll fight him off. Then we¡¯ll run. Just keep running.¡±

    She turned to me, her expression softening with a slight nod and a wry smile. "You''ll have my back, won¡¯t you, Page?¡±

    I answered her with a proud meow as I puffed out my chest, whiskers twitching in agreement.

    She responded with a feeble but fond grin, her fingers finding that familiar spot behind my ear, the one that always made me purr.

    ¡°Stay close behind me,¡± she instructed, her grip tightening around the small, sharp scalpel that was her only defense.

    She pressed her ear against the surface, waiting.

    Listening.

    I jumped down from the table and moved across the floor to the door without a sound. Ziggy trailed behind. Both of us listened, too, hoping to catch the faintest hint of danger prowling on the other side.

    She glanced my way, and with a firm nod, she grasped the doorknob. Ever so slowly, she twisted it. Holding her breath, she pushed the door open, just a sliver at first, and then after a few more seconds of silence, she pushed it wider.

    I crept past her feet and poked my head out.

    No one was there, except Wynn, still trapped in his tiny prison, pacing around. I could almost feel his frustration, his growing rage. But then, I realized something. There was no low hum. The place was quiet. Too quiet.

    "Looks clear to me," Flynn whispered, having slipped out of the Kill Room and now inching toward the table leg to climb.

    "What do you think you''re doing?" I hissed, barely containing my panic.

    "I''m not leaving without my brother!"

    "He''s not the same¡ª" I lunged to stop him, but a shadow fell over me.

    Slowly, I glanced up, only to find my own reflection staring back at me in the glossy, black surface of the full-faced mask.

    The masked stranger stood tall in a metallic blue suit that hugged his body like an artificial second skin. And he wore a long, silvery coat that rippled like liquid metal with each subtle movement. Strapped to his back was a cylindrical tank with a tube attached to the mask.

    He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable time. Then, slowly, his attention turned to Alan, who hovered in the doorway of the Kill Room, her expression unreadable. One hand was hidden behind her back. Without breaking her gaze from him, she began inching toward the far door, her aim clearly set on reaching the staircase.

    ¡°You see,¡± she began, her voice a strained attempt at calmness, ¡°I came here to find you. There were a few questions¡ªquestions about a purchase made by one of the NOAH 1 residents.¡±

    She paused, glancing nervously toward the door. ¡°But the front door... it was wide open, I swear! I thought maybe someone had broken in, that something was wrong, so I came up here to investigate.¡±

    The masked stranger tensed up, metallic fists clenching as one foot slid forward, ready to lunge. I realized his intent too late, throwing myself in his path just as his brutal, steel-tipped boot crashed into my chin. Pain exploded through my skull, distorting everything into a dizzy blur for a split second. My senses all snapped back into focus just in time to see him hurtling toward Alan.

    My instincts fired before I could think¡ªfight or die. My claws were out, sharp and ready. As I leapt onto him, I felt it: the suit was too hard, designed not just to protect but to erase any vulnerability.

    I couldn¡¯t tear into it. My claws slid uselessly over its metallic surface. But then I noticed¡ªthe suit wasn¡¯t perfect. It had seams, tiny rivets and grooves. I used them, scrambling up his leg, clinging to these fractures in his armor, moving up his back. Finally, I found myself atop the cylindrical tank strapped to him.

    Alan moved fast, ducking just as the masked figure charged at her. She swung her arm around, revealing the scalpel clutched tightly in her hand. The blade glinted as it sliced through the air, but it missed its mark. She swung again, more desperately this time, but the masked stranger blocked the strike with his armored forearm, the sound of metal-on-metal ringing through the room.

    Alan lifted her leg and drove a hard kick into his stomach. The impact sent him staggering backward, just enough to create a moment of breathing room. But he regained his balance fast. In a flash, he was on her again, his hand locking onto her wrist.

    Alan fought back. She twisted and shoved, and suddenly they were head to head, their bodies tangled in a struggle. They spun together in a violent dance of survival knocking over the rows of blob tanks that lined the room. Glass shattered everywhere, and water flooded the floor.

    The blobs stirred. From the broken tanks, they awoke, their gelatinous forms convulsing with life. Long, pulsating stringy appendages slithered out, growing longer and longer as they writhed through the air, searching blindly for something¡ªanything¡ªto latch onto. They wrapped themselves around metal pipes, furniture, and broken shards of glass.

    Ziggy was already in the thick of it, clawing at the appendages. He fought them off, tearing at them, thwarting their attempts to ensnare him. But they kept coming, multiplying, stretching farther.

    I held on tight, atop the cylindrical tank. My claws dug into the tube that connected to his mask, and I tore at it, desperate to sever whatever kept this monstrous figure moving. The tube was taut, resistant. But then, with a sudden snap, it gave way, hissing. The strap around the mask tore loose, and the mask itself dangled limply from his face.

    What I saw beneath wasn¡¯t the hardened monster I expected, but the face of a young man, pale and smooth like porcelain. But then, the moment the sea air of Floating City touched his skin, everything changed. Blood rushed to the surface, reddening his face as if the air itself was poison.

    His features warped; his cheeks swelled, his flesh bubbling like it was being burned from the inside out. Thick ropes of saliva oozed from his lips, which bloated and thickened into a sickly pink mass.

    His eyes bulged in their sockets, straining to stay within the shape of a face that was no longer human, no longer anything recognizable. The more he breathed, the worse it became.

    I jumped off his back just as he collapsed onto the floor. Landing beside Alan, I rushed to help her fend off the tendrils that sought to ensnare her legs. She slashed at them with the scalpel. But as the blade sliced through the blobs¡¯ appendages, a shower of acidic spray erupted into the air, hissing.

    The mist burned our skin. Alan screamed. I could see the pain flash across her face.

    ¡°There are too many of them!¡± Ziggy shouted, his voice choked as the blobs¡¯ tendrils wrapped around him, their slick forms pushing against his lips, desperate to breach his mouth.

    Alan didn¡¯t hesitate. She brought her boot down hard on one of the gelatinous creatures, the impact causing it to burst into a pool of hissing acid. The puddle spread quickly, but before a single drop could reach Ziggy, she grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up, securing him under her arm.

    Flynn managed to unlock his brother¡¯s cage, but what came out wasn¡¯t Wynn¡ªat least, not anymore. Slithering, rope-like appendages spilled from his brother¡¯s mouth as Wynn rushed at him. Startled, Flynn staggered backward, falling off the table, and crashed to the ground, Wynn falling with him in a tangle of writhing limbs.

    ¡°Wynn! It¡¯s me Flynn! Please, wake up!¡± Flynn cried.

    Perhaps his brother''s desperate pleas reached deep into him as Wynn seemed to snap out of the trance, if only for a heartbeat. He pushed Flynn away, growling at him to leave. His eyes then locked onto the masked stranger, now staggering to his feet. Wynn¡¯s body jerked into motion, charging.

    The rat leapt first, landing on the man¡¯s face with a squeal, sending him crashing back to the ground. Before he could recover, Wynn¡¯s tendrils seized the moment, forcing the man''s mouth wide. Then, from Wynn¡¯s throat, a pale wet blob emerged. It tore through his jaws, splitting them wide open, before launching itself onto the man¡¯s face with a sickening splatter.

    He clawed at the creature, desperate to tear it off, but the tendrils tightened their grip, wrapping his face in a suffocating embrace. Slowly, relentlessly, it forced its way into his mouth.

    With a final shudder, his body buckled then slammed against the floor with a heavy thud. His throat bulged, distending as the creature slithered further inside, making its way down toward his organs, where it would infuse itself and take control. Then, he went still.

    ¡°Wynn! No, Wynn!¡± Flynn sobbed and ran to his brother''s body but stopped when the man sat up with a sudden jerk.

    Something far from human stared back at us. The man groaned, staggering upright, then violently slammed himself against the wall, as if wrestling some inner demon. For a second, he thrashed, and then, with sudden clarity, he turned to the white tablet on the table. Its green lights flashed and danced across the surface. Whatever command he entered triggered a mechanical voice: ¡°Countdown to destruction. Fifteen seconds.¡±

    My whiskers bristled. "We need to leave¡ªNOW!"

    As if she understood what I had said, Alan scooped me up and tucked me under her other arm, and started sprinting toward the stairs. Just as the front door came into view and we neared the brink of escape, I was suddenly airborne.

    A fiery inferno exploded behind me, its roar as deafening as thunder. The scorching heat licked my fur, the tips of my whiskers curling in the blaze.

 Chapter 12: Help!

    I was soaring high above the world. The sun¡¯s golden warmth bathed me, and the cool breeze filled my senses. Beneath me, the sea stretched out like an endless sheet of rippling blue.

    The last time I¡¯d flown this high was when I nearly died. I had been no more than half a year old then. Reckless, curious, every bit as mischievous as a kitten should be. I had snuck aboard a fisherman¡¯s boat, thinking I could catch fresh fish for myself.

    What a sight in my eyes! The fishermen were hauling creatures of such size and quantity that it left me in awe. Some of the fish were so massive that I just couldn''t believe my eyes.

    Until that point, fish had only ever been served in bits, neatly mushed in my bowl. I wasn¡¯t ready for the sheer presence of a full-grown tuna, thrashing on the deck. One powerful smack from its tail, and I was flung overboard, plummeting into the icy water.

    No one saw me fall; after all, no one had known I was there to begin with. I sank deeper and deeper into the cold, dark water, the burn in my lungs growing, desperate for air. Water began to creep into my nose, and I could feel the panic rising. I thought it was the end.

    But then, out of nowhere, maybe by some miraculous intervention of the divine, I was suddenly plucked from the water and lifted high into the air. I was saved from a terrible end.

    The boat became a distant speck, shrinking beneath me as I was carried up, higher and higher into the sky. I was upside down, hanging my tail which was in the grip of a gannet¡¯s beak. It had mistaken me for a meal.

    But this time it wasn''t that moment. This was different. There was no gannet now. I was alone. Weightless. Suspended between life and whatever lay beyond. I came to a conclusion that seemed absurd and yet inescapable: I must be dead.

    When I looked up, I saw far above me a realm of limitless wonder. An infinite sea of stars and swirling nebulae. All waiting to be explored. I wanted to reach for it, to go into that unknown, to escape the gravity of the world I had left behind.

    But something stopped me. I pushed upward, trying to break free, only to feel an invisible force pushing back. It wasn¡¯t violent, though. It was soft, like a hand on my shoulder, coaxing me down. The wind itself seemed to whisper, ¡°Not your time.¡±

    As I looked down, the anchored ships below appeared no larger than toy boats bobbing on the waters. They were scattered along the fringes of Floating City. Each one was a world into itself, home to thousands. NOAH 1, the largest of them all, was my world.

    My home.

    My sweet, sweet home.

    I swooped lower, drawn by the sight of three familiar figures. There, on the promenade deck, stood Joe and Anne Kelping with their mother. Anne spotted me first. She glanced up, her face brightening as a smile spread across her lips. She waved at me. Noticing her gaze, Joe followed suit.

    ¡°Page! Get down from there, you silly cat!¡± he shouted, laughter in his voice.

    But the invisible hand steering me wasn¡¯t leading there. No, it pushed me further from my home, closer to Floating City, where a column of thick, black smoke spiraled upward from a street.

    Then, as if seized by an invisible force, I spiraled downward toward the blackened wreckage. Through the swirling curtains of smoke, silhouettes of men and women appeared, gathering around what was left of the apothecary. They began combing through the debris, searching for survivors. A few worked in tandem, passing buckets of water, putting out the lingering flames.

    "Out of my way!" a voice roared from within the crowd. The people split in two like a wave parting as a tall, broad figure barreled toward the ruins, shouting Alan¡¯s name. I knew the voice. Gunther!

    ¡°I¡¯ve got someone!¡± came the cry of a man as he dragged a beam off a crushed body. I inched closer, dread building up in me. Then, the world seemed to crumble around me¡­ Alan. Her eyes were closed, her chest still, as though life had already abandoned her.

    The man crouched beside her, fingers gliding over her neck in search of a pulse. There was none. Gunther rushed over, panic in his eyes, and with the other man¡¯s help, lifted her from the debris-strewn ground. Together, they moved her, awkwardly, like carrying a fragile thing that might break further, and laid her on the cracked sidewalk.

    Gunther lowered himself, shaking her shoulder, whispering her name. She stayed still, unresponsive. He cursed under his breath, then inhaled deeply to pull her back from the void with his own breath. The other man, hands shaking, pressed his palms to her chest.

    I hope to God they weren''t too late. Come on, Alan! Wake up!

    As they worked furiously to revive her, my ears caught a low, persistent scraping, like claws burrowing through debris. I turned just in time to see it: a burnt hand with two fingers severed. Flesh clung to it in ragged strips, like melted wax, exposing the glint of bone beneath scorched tendons.

    ¡°Another survivor!¡± someone shouted, brushing aside the rubble to free the outstretched hand. But as soon as the injured figure emerged, the hand shot up, fingers closing around his throat like iron.

    He tore himself free and stumbled back just as the figure rose. It was the masked stranger¡­only now, his face was unrecognizable. Burnt beyond repair, the flesh had melted away. The skull beneath was exposed and ashen, eyes like hollow pits of nothingness.

    Horrified, the rescuer turned and fled. The masked stranger, now a hollow shell, crumbled to the ground, his life slipping away in a shuddering breath. But even as his body stilled, something slithered out from his open mouth. A half-formed, oily skeleton with some rotten gray flesh hanging on its face. It writhed on the ground, dragging itself forward with skeletal arms, pulling its broken body forward in a desperate, searching crawl.

    I trailed the thing, my instincts screaming of the evil it carried. What was it after? My soul grew sick as it slithered toward Alan, still unconscious, her life hanging by a thread as she was being resuscitated. It wanted her. It wanted to claim her body as its own.

    I shot forward, placing myself between the thing and Alan, hissing fiercely, my fangs gleaming, back arched in defiance. My tail bristled, claws unsheathed, ready to tear into it before it could reach her. I wouldn¡¯t let it have her.

    ¡°Page! Dear God, I thought you were a goner,¡± Lee''s voice floated from behind me, but I couldn¡¯t wrench my eyes away from the oily, skeletal thing in front of me.

    ¡°The kick that guy gave me hurt like hell,¡± he went on, almost laughing. ¡°And somehow, I think I just bruised my leg from the blast¡ª¡± His voice cut off, mid-sentence.

    "Wha... what in the hell is that?" he whispered, horror creeping into his words.

    I caught a glimpse of Lee stiffening, crouching low, muscles taut like a predator on the verge of pouncing. His tail flicked up, hackles raised, a guttural growl escaping his bared teeth. His eyes were locked onto the creature, pure menace in his glare.

    ¡°That thing came out of the masked stranger,¡± I said, struggling to steady my voice. ¡°It¡¯s after Alan. It wants to take her over.¡±

    Lee sprang forward, jaws wide, intent on sinking his sharp teeth into the monstrosity. But he passed through its form as though it was made of smoke. He hit the ground hard. He rose, shaken, eyes wide, ears pricked upward, lost in a daze of confusion and disbelief.

    The thing hissed. It slithered forward, but I struck first. I tore a chunk of its decayed, oily flesh from its skeletal cheek, the rancid stench clinging to my claws. It flinched, lifting a gnarled hand to swipe at me, but I was faster, ducking out of reach just as its bony fingers swatted empty space.

    I vaulted onto its back, my claws raking wildly at its skull as it dragged itself, inch by inch, toward Alan. Just as it reached her, preparing to slip into her open mouth the moment Gunther lifted his head up for another breath, Alan''s eyes flew open.

    The entity threw its head back, releasing a jagged, ear-splitting screech before flinging me off and snaking away. None of the humans seemed to notice the skeletal form creeping under their noses, hunting for a host to inhabit. It vanished into the smoke, burrowing deep within the rubble, but I could still hear its shrill cry, like the sound of rusted metal grinding against itself.

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    Alan gasped, like someone surfacing from the deep. Her face was streaked with blood and ash. She slowly pushed herself up, then stood, wincing as her injured leg throbbed with pain. The right leg of her trouser was burnt away, exposing her calf¨Craw, blistered, and bright red.

    Gunther¡¯s voice cracked with relief. ¡°Thank God! I thought I¡¯d lost you for good.¡±

    ¡°The cats¡­¡± Alan rasped, barely audible. ¡°Page... and there was another one.¡± Her eyes searched through the haze and scattered debris, calling my name.

    I¡¯m here! I¡¯m right here! But my voice was like the wind in a vacuum. She couldn¡¯t hear or see me.

    ¡°They can¡¯t see you, can they?¡± Lee said, watching the humans comb through the debris. Then his eyes flicked to me, and his expression faltered. ¡°You... you look different. You''re silver! What the hell is that about?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m dead.¡± I looked down at my legs and paws, noticing the faint silvery glow they were radiating.

    ¡°I''m dead. You¡¯re not dead,¡± another voice broke through. ¡°Well, not yet.¡±

    I spun around, startled, to see Wynn standing there. His fur shimmered with golden dust, his jaw and head intact, glowing with the light of those on the brink of transcendence. I¡¯d seen that same glow before¡ªaround Joe and Anne on that fateful night.

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I asked the rat.

    ¡°Like what Lee said, you''re glowing silver, but it won''t last,¡± Wynn replied. ¡°The explosion may not have killed you, but the force was enough to have separated your body and spirit, and you''re still clinging to life here.¡±

    ¡°So, I¡¯m not dead, just¡­ dying somewhere in there,¡± I said, my voice strangely distant as I pointed at the heaps of rubble. I felt hope and helplessness. Could I really find myself in time? How much was left?

    ¡°There¡¯s time. You can still save yourself. Find your body and return to it.¡±

    ¡°So, what the hell are we waiting for?¡± Lee barked, dropping low as his nose swept across the debris.

    Then, a boy who had joined the crowd searching for survivors shouted triumphantly, hoisting something from the ruins. It was a cat, its fur matted with ash, eyes wide and bewildered. It wriggled out of the boy¡¯s arms.

    ¡°Ziggy!¡± I yelled, my legs carrying me toward him through the swirling smoke. He was dazed but kicking, shaking off the dust in fits and starts, like a machine sputtering back to life.

    But just as I was about to reach him, I stopped dead. There, sprawled in the rubble a few yards from me, was a shape too familiar to be anyone else.

    Dread gnawed at me. The body was mine. There I lay, my ruddy fur caked with soot and blood, motionless. No breath, no rise and fall of my chest. But faintly¡ªbarely¡ªa flicker of life lingered, slipping away like a dream dissolving at dawn.

    Lee rushed to the body, his nose grazing the fur. He whimpered.

    Ziggy also hurried over to the body, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He stared at me, then at the still body in front of him. Confusion and horror flashed across his face.

    ¡°Hurry!¡± Wynn''s voice cracked with fear. I turned to follow his gaze, and there it was¡ªblack smoke spiraling toward us like a storm. Then, the smoke peeled back, waning as an oily skeletal creature slithered forward, creeping closer to my body.

    I broke into a desperate sprint. Lee snarled, teeth flashing in a furious snarl. Ziggy hissed, leaping with claws outstretched, but as his swipe cut through the creature, his claws met only air. The thing screeched, mocking him, its form passing through Ziggy like mist.

    Shutting my eyes and summoning every ounce of strength, I stretched my limbs as I flew through the air. I raced toward the only thing that mattered¡ªto reclaim my body.

    ¡°I found him!¡± Gunther shouted, breaking through the smoke. He knelt down, his hands trembling as he lifted the limp body from the ground, cradling it as though it were fragile glass.

    He leaned in. His ear hovered near the face, his brow furrowed. ¡°He¡¯s not breathing!¡± He moved quickly, placing a hand on the chest, blowing air into the mouth and nose.

    Desperately, I scanned for any sign of the entity, but it had disappeared. To where? Where did it go?

    The golden glow around Wynn paled, his hand shook as he pointed to the cat in Gunther¡¯s arms and said the words I didn''t want to hear, ¡°You¡¯re too late.¡±

    The thing woke up, hissing, while Gunther¡¯s tears mingled with laughter, overwhelmed by joyous relief.

    No, no, no¡­ it couldn''t be! It wasn¡¯t me in that body. I was still separated.

    I could do nothing but watch, helpless, as Alan took the false Page from Gunther and hugged it tightly in her arms. She clung to it, her face pressed against its neck. A surge of emotion overwhelmed me. Words couldn¡¯t capture the storm raging within me.

    The anger inside me burned hotter than anything I¡¯d ever experienced. Fiercer, more violent, like a firestorm waiting to tear the world apart. If I could have breathed fire in that moment, I would have engulfed the world in flames.

    Gunther suggested they take that imposter and Ziggy to the vet in New Shire, where most of the city''s stray dogs and cats, even some brave rats, tend to wander and lounge.

    No matter how angry and shocked I was, I watched, helpless, as they walked off with that imposter wearing my face and with Ziggy, hissing in protest in Gunther¡¯s arms.

    Lee, in his futile panic, barked after them, his words clear only to us: ¡°Stop! No! That¡¯s not what you think it is! There''s a monster in that cat!¡± But to them, it was just noise, nothing more than meaningless growls and barks of an agitated dog.

    Gunther waved him off dismissively with a scowl. ¡°Go away! I said, go, boy! Damn dog!¡±

    I watched them hail a rickshaw and climb into the passenger seat, the sinking realization hitting me. This was it. This was the end. I was beyond saving. Trapped, with no way out of this predicament. I was doomed to be stuck between life and death, wandering as a phantom for eternity.

    ¡°What was that thing?¡± I asked, spinning back to face Wynn. ¡°Why did it try to possess Alan? And then it took over my body!¡±

    ¡°A wraith,¡± Wynn said, his voice grave. It¡¯s not exactly evil, but it¡¯s not a friendly spirit either. That one belonged to the masked stranger. It has unfinished business in this world, and it won¡¯t move on until it¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°What kind of business could it have?¡±

    ¡°I think you already know the answer to that,¡± he said with a pointed look. ¡°Now, what were you and the human doing, snooping around in the apothecary?¡±

    My thoughts raced as I tried to remember what I¡¯d seen¡­

    ¡°The black stones!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°Alan had pocketed them. The wraith must be after those devices, perhaps to send a message from wherever the stranger had come.¡±

    Lee returned to us, panting heavily, having chased the rickshaw as far as he could before fatigue forced him to turn back.

    ¡°Damn it! I tried, Page,¡± he gasped, nearly in tears. ¡°I did everything I could! Is it really too late? Isn¡¯t there anything we can do?¡±

    ¡°There is something,¡± Wynn replied calmly. ¡°There¡¯s still a way, but you''ll have to hurry. If you don''t return to your body before sunrise tomorrow, then you''re truly trapped between two worlds.¡±

    We both turned to him, hope burgeoning.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I demanded.

    ¡°Save my brother, Flynn.¡±

    ¡°Flynn?¡± I hissed. ¡°What does he have to do with any of this?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a healer. He can help you.¡±

    Lee frowned, glancing at the wreckage around us. ¡°That is, if he¡¯s still alive¡­¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± said Wynn, his whiskers twitching with certainty. ¡°I can sense him.¡±

    We followed the rat as he scampered over the hills of rubble¡ªbricks and twisted metal still warm from the flames. His sleek body vanished into a narrow gap. Lee stopped short, unable to squeeze through, but I easily slipped past the jagged edges.

    Wynn¡¯s glow lit the dark path until we stumbled upon a fallen beam. Flynn was there, trapped, half-buried under the weight. He wasn¡¯t moving. But as Wynn approached, his light swept over Flynn¡¯s face, stirring him back to life. Slowly, Flynn lifted his head. He blinked, groaned, and met his brother¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°Wynn! You¡¯re still here,¡± he breathed, his body sagging with relief. ¡°We should hurry home. Mother must be beside herself. Help me move this beam off of me.¡±

    Wynn looked at him and gave a slow shake of his head, his expression sad but serene. ¡°I can''t go back with you, Flynn. There''s somewhere else I need to be.¡±

    ¡°Somewhere else?¡± Flynn frowned. ¡°What are you talking about? Where could you possibly¡ª¡±

    ¡°You know where I have to go.¡±

    A look of dawning realization crossed Flynn¡¯s face. ¡°No. No, this isn''t... you can¡¯t be serious. This better not be one of your games, right? Tell me it''s not.¡±

    Wynn¡¯s voice softened. ¡°I wish it was.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re really¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I am.¡±

    Flynn''s breath hitched. ¡°But Wynn¡­¡±

    Wynn¡¯s form shimmered, becoming translucent, the light dimming. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I came here for: to find you. But there¡¯s one last thing I need you to do.¡±

    Flynn swallowed, his voice quivering. ¡°Anything. What is it?¡±

    Wynn vanished, his form dissolving into the air, but his voice lingered like a whisper carried in the wind, ¡°Help the cat.¡±

    Lee¡¯s barking rang out in the distance, growing closer and more frantic. A young voice followed, breathless with worry. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, boy? Did you find someone? Is there someone stuck down there?¡±

    Suddenly, the dazzling light of day burst into my vision, momentarily blinding me as the debris was cleared from above.

    The boy let out a cry of disgust. ¡°Ugh, you had me dig through all this for a rat?¡±

    Lee whirled around, barking happily, his excitement infectious in the bright sunlight.

 Chapter 13: The Wise Keepers

    Rats? I¡¯d only ever thought of them as vermin. Dirty, destructive, breeding faster than anything but cockroaches, faster than any cat could catch them. Beyond that, they weren¡¯t worth a second thought. They¡¯d barely crossed my mind, save for the rare craving when they were just¡­ dinner.

    On NOAH 1, they were scarce, but in Floating City, every street vendor seemed to have them¡ªfried, grilled, rotisserie, any way you wanted. The smell of roasting meat teased my senses, made my whiskers tremble, my mouth water.

    Never did I imagine I¡¯d be here, desperate for rats to save my life, turning to the very creatures my kind had hunted for sport and food. But here I was, racing alongside Lee with Flynn clutching onto his back as if his life depended on it. We wove through thick crowds, veered around rickshaw wheels, and sprinted across the swaying, rickety bridge toward Floating City¡¯s shadowed borough ¡ªthe Big Yard.

    Lee eased his pace as we neared a sign with rough, scratched lettering that read, ¡°BIG YARD - scraps for grab.¡± Not many humans lived out here; mostly, it was just rats burrowing into heaps of metal and plastic waste. Now and then, a small crowd of people would arrive, wheeling carts and rummaging through the junk piles for scraps ¡ª whatever they could find that''d be useful.

    The Shelter, tucked in a far corner of Big Yard near the water, was what Lee feared most. The Warden sometimes made his rounds here, on the lookout for escaped strays. He usually only apprehended cats and dogs if complaints surfaced about disturbances, unruly behavior, or theft from vendors.

    Lee hesitated at the edge of Big Yard, worried the Warden might be around. Flynn, however, was confident, saying the Warden was probably off fishing, as he did whenever the day stretched out in boredom. But today was anything but that. The explosion at the apothecary had drawn a crowd, and word had spread quickly. Chances were, the Warden had abandoned his post to join the scene.

    Flynn leapt from Lee¡¯s back and led us up three tiers of stacked, black rubber tires. When we reached the top, I glanced down the opening to see a thick mat of barbed wire hiding something underneath. Flynn went first, landing to the side to avoid the steel thorns, then eased the wire fence aside to reveal a round metal door.

    He knocked twice, paused, then tapped three more times.

    A loud, sharp clang resounded from behind the door, which then shuddered open with the low groan of rusty hinges. Flynn stepped back to avoid the tangle of barbed wire clinging to the door¡¯s surface, its jagged points ready to scratch and bleed anyone who ventured too close. A rat peeked out with a spear in his hands, his whiskers twitching, eyes darting cautiously before widening in startled delight upon spotting Flynn.

    ¡°Flynn! You''re alive!¡± The exclamation burst from the rat, pure joy in his voice¡ªuntil his eyes found us above, watching from the top of the stacked tires.

    ¡°P-predators!¡± He raised the spear, pointing it at me and Lee. ¡°They¡¯re up there!¡±

    ¡°Flynn, get inside! Quickly!¡±

    ¡°Nigel, it¡¯s alright,¡± Flynn replied. ¡°They¡¯re with me. They won¡¯t hurt you.¡± He shot us a glance, a silent request to speak up, to let the rat know he was safe.

    I spoke up first. ¡°There¡¯s danger, and we need your help! Now¡¯s the time for us to work together, regardless of our differences.¡±

    This seemed to calm Nigel somewhat, but he still denied us entry, permitting only Flynn to proceed.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to speak with the Wise Keepers, Flynn,¡± Nigel said. ¡°You know the rules ¡ª no one outside our kind can enter the nest without explicit approval from them.¡±

    Flynn glanced up at us, apology in his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s right. Wait here; I¡¯ll speak with the elders,¡± he said before disappearing into the entrance. Nigel gave us one last wary look and shut the door. The clang echoed, louder and more resolute than before.

    Minutes dragged on, the sky still bright, the day deceptively young. But my patience was wearing thin. Who knew how much time I had left? An uneasy feeling crept in. My window of opportunity was closing, shrinking with every passing second.

    Lee, too, was growing impatient, his worry mounting. His body tensed, ready to spring, eyes wide and alert as they scanned the grounds for any sign of the Warden¡¯s return from his fishing trip.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back to the Shelter!¡± he protested, voice breaking.

    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± I promised, dropping down into the tires¡¯ opening. I landed atop the barbed wire below, but the thorns passed harmlessly through me as if I were smoke.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Lee¡¯s voice quivered with unease.

    ¡°I have an idea. Funny it didn¡¯t occur to me sooner.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°I can move through walls. I¡¯ll slip inside, see what those rats are up to¡­ if they¡¯re going to help me at all.¡±

    Lee''s face sank, eyes fraught with worry. ¡°And what about me? What should I do?¡±

    ¡°Wait here.¡±

    ¡°Here? B-but¡­the Warden could be back any second!¡±

    ¡°Try to keep out of sight. Find a spot to hide nearby¡ªI¡¯ll be back as soon as I can.¡±

    ***

    The first time I witnessed a specter pass through walls was the afternoon Jimmy didn¡¯t wake from his nap. I¡¯d crept into his cabin, where he bunked with three other stewards, hoping to snag a treat¡ªand truthfully, his company too. Sometimes he¡¯d save a starfish or a pouch of grilled mussels from Floating City to share. He¡¯d taught me much about the Great Wrath, painting vivid pictures of a world that once was, a world that felt like a myth. He was one of the last human archives, a keeper of memories no one else remembered.

    Jimmy, though he was old, preferred the top bunk, and each morning he¡¯d jump down with the spirit of a younger man. A tune always on his lips, ready to greet the day. But as I climbed the ladder that afternoon, there was an odd heaviness settled around me. I edged onto the bed beside him, noticing the unnatural stillness of his chest. I leaned closer, listening for the faintest hint of breath or heartbeat. There was nothing.

    But a strange feeling told me I wasn¡¯t alone. There, standing before the mirror, was Jimmy, buttoning his peacoat and humming a light-hearted tune. A faint golden light cloaked him, yet when he looked at himself in the mirror, his reflection was missing, replaced by clusters of tiny golden lights that floated and shimmered where he should have been.

    He turned to me with a playful wink before passing through the wall. And sometimes, even now, I still sensed him nearby¡ªa darkened shadow gliding up the stairwell or a trace of mist lingering on the main deck, always just at the edge of sight.

    ***

    I became smoke, my form unraveling into tendrils that slipped through the solid metal door. Nigel was slumped near the entrance, fast asleep with his spear beside him, his tiny hands resting over his belly, mouth open as he let out the softest snores.

    I moved silently through the twisting tunnels, where branching corridors led to chambers and stairs bathed in the bluish-green light of glass orbs hanging above. I was surprised by the rats¡¯ ingenuity and artistry; I had imagined them dwelling in filthy burrows, scurrying about in squalor, rather than establishing their own city beneath Big Yard.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    I crept into one of the chambers, hugging the ground as I made my way to a darkened corner. The room was alive with the quiet squeaks of rats, their tears flowing freely. They crowded around a long table, where a grand feast was spread in celebration of their rescue. In an adjacent room, a few rats busied themselves, slicing raw fish and vegetables I recognized from Little Eden.

    In another room, rats gathered solemnly around a table with hand-drawn portraits of their fallen kin¡ªthe ones who hadn¡¯t made it out of the apothecary. Among them was Wynn¡¯s portrait. One by one, the rats stepped forward, touching a picture, and tears slipped silently down their faces. Some stood with hands clasped and heads bowed in silent prayer. I lingered, watching their ritual with quiet fascination.

    ¡°Do you feel that?¡± a rat asked softly, lifting her head and casting a glance over her shoulder.

    ¡°Feel what?¡± came a sniffled reply, as another rat wiped his eyes with a small, tattered handkerchief.

    ¡°I can¡¯t explain it¡­ but there¡¯s something in here with us.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel anything strange.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but I¡¯m getting that tingle, the one I get when a cat¡¯s close by!¡±

    ¡°Calm yourself,¡± a third rat scoffed, looking around the room. ¡°You''re being silly! Do you see a cat anywhere? If one had broken into the nest and slipped past the guard, believe me, we¡¯d know.¡±

    ¡°There! In the corner!¡± the first rat exclaimed, scrambling back in a frenzy, shoving her way to the far wall to put as much distance between herself and me as possible. Her sudden outburst jolted the others from their mourning. They looked around wildly, their heads swiveling, whiskers twitching with alarm.

    Time to move on, and I sank into the wall tumbling into a room that was larger than the other chambers I''d come across. It was illuminated by an extraordinary chandelier that caught my eye. Gazing up more intently, I realized it was a jellyfish, encased in a clear glass bottle filled with water. As it glided through its aquatic prison, the jellyfish emitted a vivid orange light.

    Seated on chairs cobbled from tin cans and scrap metal, seven rats¨Cthe Wise Keepers, if I remembered Nigel''s words correctly¨Cgathered in solemn silence, each with a thimble on their head, like a mock crown. Their beady eyes were directed toward Flynn, who stood confidently before them, like a plaintiff before judges. Behind him, Rusty shuffled his feet, his gaze lowered in quiet humility.

    The Wise Keeper in the middle scowled, making a sound of disgust and anger. ¡°With all due respect, Healer Flynn, do you even hear yourself? Why should we bother to help the cat? Cats are not our allies.¡±

    Murmurs of agreement rippled through the others, heads nodding as they echoed, ¡°Cats are not our allies.¡±

    ¡°I understand, Your Wiseness,¡± Flynn replied, ¡°but this situation is different... I believe this cat could help us secure protection against the blob.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think he¡¯ll keep his promise?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Flynn faltered. ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain¡ª¡±

    The Wise Keepers interrupted him with disapproving sounds, shaking their heads and narrowing their eyes.

    ¡°But I¡¯ve never known a cat to lie,¡± he continued. ¡°Cats do have a reputation for keeping their word.¡±

    ¡°Not always,¡± said the Wise Keeper on the left side of the first speaker, ¡°they''ll find a way to circumvent an agreement with us because their loyalty is only with humans.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± spoke the Wise Keeper on the right, ¡°it¡¯s decided then that we will not help the cat, despite it being Wynn¡¯s last request. We cannot, in good conscience, assist a predator.¡±

    The others nodded in agreement, expressing their approval.

    ¡°Healer Flynn, instruct the cat and dog to vacate the premises,¡± commanded the middle one. ¡°Should they refuse, our most capable guards will ensure their departure, armed and prepared to use force if necessary. Make that clear!¡±

    Flynn hung his head in defeat, mumbling, ¡°Yes, Your Wiseness.¡±

    I was on the verge of revealing myself, ready to confront the Not-So-Wise Keepers and tell them that they were making a grave mistake, when Rusty cleared his throat and stepped out from behind Flynn.

    The middle Wise Keeper, who had begun to rise, slouched back down in his seat, the thimble on his head tilting askew. He reached up to steady it.

    ¡°What is it that you have to say, Rusty?¡± He grumbled. ¡°The decision stands.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I understand that, but I think Your Wiseness should consider an important point.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡±

    ¡°The threat posed by the blob may be far more serious than we first assumed.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Please, elaborate.¡±

    ¡°I mean the danger is growing,¡± Rusty continued. ¡°It¡¯s spreading to other species, including the cats. Moreover, the masked stranger intended to target the humans next. If that¡¯s true, the entire city could be at risk.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Flynn interjected. ¡°This could be the end for all of us!¡±

    ¡°Who knows what grander scheme the masked stranger had in mind? He surely wasn¡¯t acting alone; there may be others involved, a large group. What I know for certain is that it¡¯s not good.¡±

    Flynn nodded in agreement. ¡°The masked stranger may be dead, but the danger is far from over.¡±

    Two of the Wise Keepers sitting on either side of the middle shared a silent, concerned glance. Another on the left looked entirely bored, while the one beside him on the far left was in his own world fidgeting with the thimble on his head. On the far right, another sat like an empty vessel, his thoughts clearly absent, as he looked to the rat seated in the middle for direction.

    ¡°Flynn, Rusty, first of all,¡± the middle Wise Keeper started, ¡°we are truly relieved that you both returned safely and managed to save so many along the way.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve done a tremendous service,¡± a few of the Wise Keepers echoed.

    ¡°That said, there¡¯s little good in getting caught up in what might be. The idea that the masked stranger¡¯s plans were part of something larger is nothing more than speculation.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm, exactly so!¡± one of the others added.

    ¡°Anyway, our decision is final. Let¡¯s put these worries behind us and celebrate¡ªa grand feast has been prepared for us all!¡±

    The Wise Keepers rose in unison, adjusting the thimbles on their heads as they moved toward the door. But I wasn¡¯t about to let them leave, certainly not when my very life hung in the balance.

    One of them paused, his eyes drifting to the glowing glass bottle suspended high above. His brow furrowed, suspicion darkening his face.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± another asked, noticing his hesitation.

    ¡°The light bottle¡­ It¡¯s moving.¡±

    The others followed his gaze, and sure enough, the bottle gently rocked back and forth. There was no wind, and the jellyfish inside was far too weak to stir it on its own.

    The jellyfish drifted aimlessly, its bioluminescence flickering in and out. Then, suddenly, all the light vanished. Everything plunged into darkness.

    ¡°Look¡ªover there!¡± a voice shrieked, urgent and sharp.

    ¡°Eyes... glowing yellow eyes!¡±

    ¡°Those look like cat''s eyes!¡±

    ¡°They are cat''s eyes!¡±

    ¡°And teeth...it has teeth!¡±

    More screams erupted. Fear spread. Screams echoed as the rats flailed, knocking into chairs, tables, and each other in a blind stampede toward the door. Footsteps tripped and tails tangled! Bodies collided in the dark.

    ¡°You fools, every last one of you!¡± My voice thundered through the room. ¡°Can''t you see? This threat surpasses anything you imagine¡ªit endangers us all.¡±

    Silence filled the space, broken only by the rats'' shaky, uneven breathing.

    ¡°I-It¡¯s you!¡± Flynn¡¯s hesitant voice squeaked through the darkness.

    ¡°Healer Flynn, do you know this cat?¡± came another voice, trembling.

    ¡°Know him? Not exactly a friend,¡± Flynn stammered. ¡°More of¡­ an acquaintance, perhaps¡ªthough, to be honest, we never had time for formal introductions, given the circumstances when we first met.¡±

    ¡°Who are you to barge in and threaten us with your very presence, cat?¡±

    ¡°I am Page,¡± I answered. ¡°Steward of the great ship NOAH 1.¡±

    ¡°Page, steward of NOAH 1, leave this nest, or we¡¯ll gladly remove you ourselves¡ªand it won¡¯t be pleasant.¡±

    ¡°Where are the guards?¡± a Wise Keeper whispered in panic.

    ¡°Probably at the feast already.¡±

    ¡°And Nigel?¡±

    ¡°You rats!¡± I shouted. ¡°Heed me well: if Floating City falls, we all face extinction. Save me, and you save yourselves.¡±

    The light flickered back to life as the jellyfish in its bottle resumed its tranquil drift. I faded into the air, invisible yet present, watching the rats. The Wise Keepers lay sprawled on the floor, petrified, their fallen thimbles rolling in small circles across the floor.

 Chapter 14: Time Slipping Away

    On one of his scavenging journeys, Louis Kelping and his small crew of eight arrived with a bulging sack of relics from the lost world. He always presented his findings first to Captain Francis and his officers who would sift through the haul, deciding what would be valuable for the ship and how the rest might be distributed. Wires, copper, and gears were prized most. Any mechanics were stripped down, reassembled, each piece finding new life on the vessel.

    After the items had been sorted and distributed across the ship, Louis gathered what remained and carried them to his suite. He laid them out on the table, and Joe, Anne, and Sam leaned in, faces lit with excitement, fingers ready to explore.

    Shiny stones, small plastic figures, and fragments of aluminum scattered the tabletop, but one piece captured their attention above all¡ªa sand timer. Joe and Sam, unable to resist, both reached for it at the same moment, each racing to be the first to hold it.

    Joe, being the eldest and the fastest, grabbed it first, lifting it with a triumphant grin and wagging it teasingly before little Sam. Sam¡¯s jaw tightened, his eyes squeezed shut, holding back tears that threatened to spill. I nuzzled against his leg to comfort him. Their parents chided Joe, telling him to share the sand timer with his brother. After a moment¡¯s pause, he suggested a race¡ªup on the deck, from one end of the ship to the other¡ªbefore the sand ran out.

    I ran with them. We raced in wide loops from one end of the ship to the other. The timer was slipping away, and I ran harder, faster. I ran as if everything depended on that last grain of sand.

    *****

    I could still see the sand timer, each grain slipping away like a final breath before my eyes. The door between the material and ethereal worlds was closing, the portal sealing, while the lifeline tethered to my body grew ever thinner, weakening, drifting beyond my grasp.

    We sprinted from Big Yard, relieved to see no sign of the Warden patrolling the area, then crossed the swaying rope bridge.

    ¡°Hurry up!¡± I stopped, glancing back to find Lee lagging several yards behind. Rusty and Marlow¡ªthe middle Wise Keeper¡ªclung firmly to his back, while Flynn sat ahead, one hand gripping the strap of an oversized dark green sack that matched him in size, the other hand buried in Lee¡¯s fur for balance.

    "I¡¯m running as fast as I can!¡± Lee gasped, his tongue lolling, flinging flecks of saliva at the rats. ¡°But it''s almost impossible to keep up with you!¡±

    Sea Green stretched ahead, its rolling hills lush with green grass and vibrant trees basking in sunlight. Splashes of wildflowers painted the landscape in colors almost unreal. The stretch of green land looked almost too perfect. I imagined this was the world as it had been, before the Great Wrath. How the world once looked. But the closer you got, the more you noticed that it was only a replica of the lost paradise. A mere imitation made out of plastic, plexiglass, latex, and nylon.

    Little Eden wasn¡¯t home to all cats. Some, unwilling to trade garden patrols for a roof and scraps, wandered to Sea Green, where existence was easier¡­ or as easy as life allowed in Floating City. The cats of Sea Green roamed freely, sprawling and tumbling across the artificial grass. Meanwhile, dogs raced and barked with delight, sniffing trails and marking bushes or flower beds as they pleased. Here and there, human settlements dotted the landscape: dome-shaped houses of stacked rubber tires and recycled glass, glinting like jewels under the sun.

    A piercing screech pulled us toward one of the domes. We slipped through the gap in the dark green tarp that served as a door. Inside, we found the wraith-Page, back arched and hissing, eyes locked on Alan with a look of pure malice.

    It launched itself off the long table, and Alan screamed as it clawed its way up her wounded leg. She clutched its neck, desperate to tear it off, but it clung to her, one paw reaching for her pocket. Stumbling back, she tripped and crashed into the wall. The black stones tumbled from her pocket onto the floor. In an instant, the imposter Page leapt from her leg toward the stones, but before it could reach them, Gunther seized it by the scruff of its neck.

    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you, Page?¡± he demanded, his eyes wide with alarm, as the creature hissed and yowled, swiping at him with dagger-like claws.

    He rushed to the small cage on the table, wrenched the door open, and forced the creature inside. Then he slammed the door shut and locked it. Enraged, the imposter thrashed about, flinging itself against the cage walls, hissing and shrieking.

    After a moment, the creature quieted, though its sides still heaved with residual fury. Alan threw a blanket over the cage, and, with a final, defeated huff, the creature fell silent. She picked up the two black stones from where they had fallen and placed them on the far end of the long table, away from the cage.

    We crept silently to a space behind a shelf stacked with jars, vials, and pots filled with powders and liquids in every color. The rats slid off Lee¡¯s back: Flynn dropped down to the floor with a soft thud, his fall cushioned by the sack he carried. Rusty followed close behind, and finally, Wise Keeper Marlow joined them.

    ¡°What''s the plan? What are we going to do?¡± Lee whispered, struggling to contain his excited voice.

    ¡°We need the wraith to swallow this,¡± Marlow replied, reaching into Flynn''s sack and pulling out a thick, dark-brown hairball.

    ¡°What exactly is that?¡±

    ¡°This,¡± Marlow said, brandishing the dense hairball, ¡°is the Soul Cleanser. It¡¯s made from cat hairs fermented in seawater for a year, with sacred liquids from the Wise Keepers¡ª¡±

    I pulled a face. ¡°Oh, wonderful, that sounds appetizing!¡±

    ¡°¡ªand then dried in the sun and blessed by the leader of the Wise Keepers.¡±

    ¡°Who would that be?¡± Lee asked, curious.

    ¡°Why, me, of course!¡± Marlow answered, looking slightly affronted.

    ¡°How are you going to get the wraith to swallow that nasty, stinking hairball?¡±

    ¡°Soul Cleanser!¡± corrected the Wise Keeper.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy,¡± Flynn said, pulling a few thick cords from the sack, each one as long as three cat tails, and knotting them into lassos. ¡°Rusty and I will need to catch the wraith and hold him down, while His Wiseness gets him to swallow the Soul Cleanser. Once he does, the wraith will be forced out of Page''s body¡ªthat¡¯s why it¡¯s called a ¡®Soul Cleanser¡¯¡ªand then you can re-enter your own body.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll chop the wraith¡¯s head off with this!¡± Rusty announced, brandishing a long sword fashioned from a razor blade. ¡°It¡¯s been blessed by all seven Wise Keepers with their sacred liquids.¡±

    ¡°Do I even want to know what those liquids are?¡± I asked, uneasy.

    Flynn grinned slyly. ¡°That¡¯s a secret. And believe me¡­ you''re better off in the dark about it.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Quiet, everyone!¡± Marlow whispered, raising a hand and a finger to his lips to signal us to fall silent.

    Just then, Dr. Starkey, the Sea Green veterinarian, walked in from another room, carrying Ziggy in her arms, his shoulder and legs swathed in bandages. Her wild curly gray hair bounced as she carried him over to a corner and gently lowered him into a basket, where he slumped, too drowsy to move, against the soft cushions.

    ¡°He had a nasty wound on his shoulder,¡± she said, stroking his head lightly. ¡°He¡¯ll be alright, though. I gave him something to help him relax. The burns on his legs should heal within a few weeks. Of course, with proper care¨C¡±

    She paused suddenly, blinking in surprise. After a quick adjustment of her crooked glasses, she looked up at Alan''s serious face. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±

    ¡°There''s something wrong with Page,¡± said Alan, her eyebrows furrowed with worry.

    Dr. Starkey''s eyes fell on the blanket-covered cage. She cautiously approached it and lifted the edge of the blanket, glancing inside. But she flinched back when the creature hissed and lashed out, a sharp claw scraping against the metal bars. Wordlessly, she lowered the blanket back over the cage, a troubled look crossing her face.

    ¡°He¡¯s never acted this way before,¡± said Gunther.

    I floated up onto the table, watching the vet closely, sensing she was about to deliver unwelcome news.

    ¡°He could be in shock, a panic reaction to today''s events,¡± she began, then hesitated. ¡°But¡­¡±

    Alan swallowed hard. ¡°But what?¡±

    The vet¡¯s gaze darkened as she glanced between them. ¡°There''s a chance he could be¡­ infected.¡±

    ¡°Infected with what?¡± Alan and Gunther echoed in unison.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been finding animals, mainly rats, infected with a strange parasite lately,¡± Dr. Starkey explained. ¡°Just a few weeks ago, I came across a dead rat on the street with tendrils pushing out from its mouth. I brought it back to the lab, dissected it, and inside was this gelatinous creature¡­ something that looked like a jellyfish.¡±

    ¡°So, you found a dead rat with a jellyfish in it,¡± said Gunther, bluntly.

    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t a jellyfish. I don''t know what it was. Anyway, whatever it was, it had infiltrated the rat¡¯s organs and nerves completely.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think Page is infected with this jellyfish parasite?¡±

    No! It''s not the blob. It''s a wraith! I wanted to tell them.

    ¡°Because the other day, I saw another cat showing the same behavior as Page. I was doing a routine checkup on the cats in Little Eden when one of them caught my attention. He¡¯d become unusually aggressive, slashing at the other cats without cause or provocation. And it wasn¡¯t just his behavior. He¡¯d grown much bigger, too, as if something was transforming him.¡±

    ¡°What now?¡± Gunther snapped, scowling. ¡°Are we just going to stand here and watch that thing eat Page from the inside? Are we going to let him die?¡±

    ¡°I was sure that the apothecary had something that could''ve helped him,¡± said Dr. Starkey, ¡°but that shop is, obviously, gone now. So, there''s no magic pill that can cure him. We no longer have many of the medicines that we once had in the old world.¡±

    Alan frowned. Her face tightened as she looked at the vet. ¡°Then how will you remove the parasite? Can it be done without killing him?¡±

    I glanced anxiously at the vet as her tone grew grave. ¡°The only other option would be to surgically remove the parasite.¡±

    As soon as those words were said, the world seemed to fall around me. She was going to cut me open!

    I looked frantically at Alan and Gunther. Tell her no! Don''t let her cut me up! It''ll kill me, and something else will come out beyond your control. Please hear me!

    Although his rugged appearance, a buff frame and thick beard, made most people find him intimidating, Gunther was, at heart, a gentle soul. And now, his tough exterior cracked; his expression crumbled, and his eyes filled with tears.

    Alan nodded. ¡°Alright,¡± she said firmly, though there was just a hint of apprehensiveness. ¡°Whatever it takes to save him.¡±

    It was too much for Gunther. He left the dome for a lone walk with his own thoughts. Meanwhile, as Dr. Starkey and Alan grappled with the imposter Page, struggling to pull him from the cage, I flew down and floated back to Lee and the rats who''d been intensely watching the entire scene.

    ¡°You have to do something now!¡± I shouted.

    Lee didn''t hesitate. With an excited bark, he swiped his paw across the shelf, knocking bottles and jars to the floor with a loud crash. Glass shattered as he and the rats toppled the entire shelf, sending it crashing down.

    Dr. Starkey whipped around, eyes wide, mouth agape in shock and confusion.

    ¡°Oh, no! No!¡± she screamed.

    She looked frantically left and right, trying to track Lee as he raced around the room, running in circles and knocking over shelves, vases, and chairs.

    ¡°There he is!¡± Alan exclaimed, spotting the white-and-brown blur zipping from one corner to the next. She quickly shoved the imposter Page back into the cage, then joined the vet in catching the dog.

    But the cage door wasn¡¯t locked. It creaked open, and the creature stepped out. My breath caught painfully in my throat, leaving me paralyzed, gripped by terror.

    I couldn''t recognize myself anymore. The wraith possessing my body had twisted me beyond recognition. My reddish-brown fur, once as welcoming as a hearth¡¯s glow, was now dull, slick with grime. My almond-shaped eyes, which once gleamed with flecks of gold, had become deep black voids. Soulless, endless darkness.

    The creature leapt from the table, landing heavily on the floor. Flynn spun the lasso with a fierce focus, his eyes locked on the imposter Page. With a swift throw, he looped the lasso over its neck, then dashed to its side, using the cord to hoist himself onto its back. It reared and bucked again, arching its back, but soon its energy waned, and it collapsed onto its side in exhaustion.

    Marlow rushed forward and tossed the Soul Cleanser into its open mouth. Rusty then looped a second lasso around its jaws, pulling tight to keep its mouth closed, forcing the creature to swallow the hairball while Flynn eased his lasso¡¯s grip.

    Then, something started churning violently within the creature. I could see a frantic movement shifting under its skin. The imposter Page rose shakily, its limbs spasming. Flynn leapt off its back and scrambled out of its path. Its head jerked back, mouth yawning wide in a violent gag, as something clawed its way up its throat. With a sickening, wet splat, the oily wraith finally burst from its mouth, slithering onto the floor like an eel. My body collapsed onto the floor, now an empty vessel.

    ¡°Page, go! Now!¡± Flynn¡¯s shouts cut through the madness¡ªshelves toppling, glass shattering, the wraith¡¯s shrill screeches, Lee¡¯s frantic barking, and Alan and Dr. Starkey¡¯s desperate screams.

    The sand timer reappeared before me. Its grains were pouring through the narrow neck, slipping away like the moments of my life. I broke into a sprint, the sound of the shouts and laughter of Joe and Sam ringing in my ears, their footsteps gaining ground, just as I remembered them running across the ship¡¯s deck.

    *****

    ¡°Ha! I won!¡± Joe exclaimed triumphantly, crossing the finish line they''d marked with forest green chalk, while Anne stood nearby as the judge¡ªthough I could tell her mind was elsewhere, her gaze lost in the distant stretch of blue water.

    ¡°No, it was Page who won,¡± Sam panted, pausing to catch his breath against the rail.

    Joe stuck out his tongue. ¡°Page¡¯s a cat. That doesn¡¯t count.¡±

    Sam turned to Anne. ¡°You¡¯re the judge! Tell us who won.¡±

    Anne shot them both an exasperated glance. ¡°I say no one won! Now, will you both shut up about this stupid race?¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t even watching! You don¡¯t know who won,¡± Sam snapped.

    Joe marched over to the sand timer. He picked it up, and grinning, waved it in the air. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to race again!¡±

    I spun around, tail high, and meowed in pure delight. Before the sand timer even settled on the floor, flipped by Joe¡¯s hand, I was already pacing around the deck, my paws, light and quick like lightning.

    *****

    Suddenly, I was airborne, soaring through the air before plunging back into my own body. Light seared my eyes as I struggled to open them, and a sharp breath filled my lungs as I gasped for air. I was alive again, as though I''d been reborn.

 Chapter 15: Rusty

    When I was found in the alley, I couldn¡¯t make out who had lifted me from the trash heap. My eyes were caked with layers of filth, sealing them almost completely shut. But I could never forget the voice of my savior¡ªit was Jimmy¡¯s.

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t look as dead as the others,¡± Jimmy¡¯s voice broke through the darkness. ¡°Shame I can only bring one of you back. Alright, little one, let¡¯s get you cleaned up.¡±

    I remember being bundled in something warm and soft before being washed in a tub. Jimmy scrubbed my fur and eyes clean with soap and warm water, dissolving the crusted filth that had blinded me. For the first time in days, I could breathe without the stench of decay clinging to me. Afterward, he dried me off with a towel, swaddled me in a blanket, and held me close like I was something precious. Like my life mattered to another being.

    ¡°What do you think we should name him?¡± a different voice asked. It wasn¡¯t Jimmy¡¯s¡ªit was lighter, softer. When I opened my eyes for the first time, I saw Alan¡¯s almond-shaped, dark brown eyes gazing down at me, filled with curiosity and a warmth I had never known.

    ¡°Everyone has to do their part on the ship, right?¡± Jimmy said with a grin. ¡°How about Page? He could be everyone¡¯s little helper¡ªalways ready when you need him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I like that name,¡± Alan said, a smile spreading across her face. ¡°Page¡­ Page¡­¡±

    *****

    ¡°Page, are you there? You have to wake up.¡±

    A sharp, acrid odor tore into my nostrils. The jolt shot through me like lightning, forcing my body into motion. My body shuddered from the jarring sensation. My eyes blinked against the sudden flood of light, and the first thing I saw was Flynn¡¯s face, his eyes wide and whiskers twitching with visible relief.

    ¡°Oh, good! You¡¯re alive,¡± he said, holding a vial so tiny it looked as though it had been crafted from a single shard of glass, perfectly suited for a rat¡¯s nimble paws. ¡°Curious?¡± he added, when he caught my stare. ¡°Just a bit of wake-up juice¡­¡±

    ¡°Do I even want to know what¡¯s in it?¡±

    Flynn¡¯s chuckle was light but amused, his tiny shoulders shaking. ¡°Oh, just vinegar. Simple and effective.¡±

    A sudden, acrid tang erupted in my mouth, making me gag. I hissed, my fur bristling as I spat, trying to rid myself of the lingering foulness. It wasn''t the vinegar, but the bitter residue of the Soul Cleanser that Marlow had thrust into my throat.

    ¡°There''s no time to joke around!¡± Marlow scolded. ¡°We need to go!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right. We need to get out of here,¡± Flynn urged, nudging my side with surprising strength for his size.

    On shaky legs, I rose and took in the devastation around me. Lee continued his wild circuit around the room, always one step ahead of Dr. Starkey and Alan, their outstretched hands always just missing him, swiping at empty air. The room was a battlefield¡ªoverturned shelves spilled jagged shards of glass, shattered vials glistened in puddles of unknown liquids, and torn fabric littered the floor and toppled furniture lay in ruin.

    Then I saw it¡ªthe wraith. It was slithering across the debris-strewn floor toward the dark corner where Ziggy lay in a basket. His bandaged legs sprawled limp, his head lolled back, and a faint snore wheezed from his open mouth, unaware of the encroaching threat.

    There was no sense in trying to fight the wraith; every blow would slip through it like punches in a fog. Gritting my teeth, I gathered what strength remained in me and sprinted toward Ziggy, my paws skidding over shards of broken glass and splinters strewn in my path.

    ¡°Ziggy! Ziggy, please wake up!¡± I shouted, propping myself against the basket and leaning over Ziggy. I gave him a slap. ¡°ZIGGY!¡±

    With a sudden start, he blinked awake, lazily swiping his tongue over the drool at the corner of his mouth. When his eyes met mine, his face slowly brightened. ¡°Page! You¡¯re alive! I thought you were a goner. That was a big¡­a big¡­kaboom!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I''m alive. But I don¡¯t have much time to explain,¡± I said, frantically. ¡°You need to get up and follow me.¡±

    He blinked, trying to focus. ¡°Of course, my dear brother¡­ I''ll go wherever you go¡­¡± His voice trailed off and his head lolled as he began to doze off again.

    ¡°ZIGGY!¡± I cried more desperately now. ¡°Please, wake up! There¡¯s no time¡ªwe need to go!¡±

    He glanced down at his bandaged legs, and said, ¡°I''m not sure if I even have the strength.¡±

    Ziggy yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open. Slowly, he dragged himself out of the basket, wincing as he limped toward the door. But before he could reach it, his body betrayed him. His legs gave way, and he crumpled to the floor; the vet¡¯s sleeping drug was still coursing through his veins and had pulled him into another deep sleep.

    The wraith crept nearer to his limp body. Rusty charged forward, the razor blade in his paws flashing in a deadly arc as he lifted it over his head then down. The blade sheared through the wraith¡¯s bony arm. The creature hissed. Thick, tar-like ooze gushed from the gaping wound, staining the floor in sticky pools as the wraith reared back, momentarily disoriented.

    Rusty raised the blade for another swing, but a sudden force slammed into him, sending him flying across the room. The razor blade skittered out of reach.

    ¡°Oh, great! Now we have rats too?¡± Dr. Starkey exclaimed, exasperation etched into her face. She groaned in irritation as she swung the broom high, ready to strike Rusty''s motionless body again.

    She froze mid-swing as Lee lunged at her, clamping his teeth onto the hem of her pants. Digging his paws into the floor, he tugged with all his might, a low growl rumbling from his throat. His small frame strained against her momentum but managed to halt her just in time, pulling her off balance.

    ¡°Ah! Bad dog!¡± she shrieked, swiping the soft bristles of the broom at Lee¡¯s head in a desperate attempt to dislodge him. Her movements were hesitant, more a light tapping than a forceful blow, as she couldn¡¯t bring herself to hurt him.

    Alan gently scooped up the sleeping Ziggy, holding him close, his small body nestled in the crook of her arm. She reached out with her free hand, her fingers aiming for my neck, but I slipped out of range. Letting out a weary sigh, she tucked Ziggy into the basket with care and turned her attention to me. As I kept myself just out of her reach, I spotted Marlow dashing toward the abandoned blade and Flynn hurrying to Rusty, only to be knocked aside by Dr. Starkey, now freed from Lee, with her broom. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The wraith¡ªit was on the move. It slithered toward Rusty.

    Dr. Starkey waved her broom in sweeping arcs, trying to shoo Flynn out the door. She didn¡¯t see the dark form slinking mere inches from her feet. Flynn dodged her strikes, rolling to the side and weaving around her legs in a frantic attempt to slow her down and buy a moment to reach his brother. But his efforts came too late. The shadowy creature reached Rusty first, dissipating into a swirling vapor and vanishing into his open mouth and flaring nostrils.

    Rusty jolted upright, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His eyes, empty and black as a starless abyss, swept over the surrounding chaos and destruction. Then, he rose to his feet and began to march. As I tracked his course, I realized where he was heading: straight for the small table where Alan had left the black stones.

    ¡°Stop him!¡± I ordered.

    Lee stepped in front of Rusty, a snarl escaping him, his fangs bared in a vicious display.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt him!¡± Flynn¡¯s plea rang out.

    But Lee wasn¡¯t the one to draw first blood. Rusty ran up the side of the canine, his wiry body a blur, and latched onto Lee¡¯s back. The dog spun wildly, twisting and bucking, but Rusty held fast. His claws tangled in Lee¡¯s fur, and then he lunged for an ear, sinking his teeth deep.

    The dog let out a piercing, anguished cry. The rat thrashed his head, tearing a piece of flesh with its furious motion. Then Rusty leapt off his back and scurried out of sight.

    Lee stumbled to the wall, his body shaking and whimpering as he leaned against it. Blood trickled from the torn edge of his left ear.

    ¡°Good God! That rat¡¯s rabid!¡± Dr. Starkey exclaimed, crouching beside Lee to inspect the wound. ¡°It¡¯s done a real number on his ear.¡±

    Then, her tone changed. Action replaced concern. She rose to her full height and spun on her heel, gripping the broom with white-knuckled force, her eyes searching around the room for her target.

    I saw him first. Rusty was climbing up the leg of the small table, clawing his way closer to the black stones. I bolted forward, but I didn¡¯t get far. A strong hand clamped onto the back of my neck and yanked me back.

    Alan lifted me off the ground and shoved me into the cage, slamming the door shut.

    Let me out! You''ve now idea what you''re up against! But my words fell on her human deaf ears.

    ¡°It''s going to be alright, Page,¡± she said, soothingly. ¡°We''ll be heading back home soon. So, try to relax.¡±

    Relax?! I couldn''t relax. I just couldn¡¯t! Pacing the cramped enclosure, my thoughts whirled, frantically seeking an escape. All I could do was press my face to the small window, and watch the scene:

    Rusty had climbed onto the table, his outstretched fingers brushing against one of the black stones. A low hum resonated as the device began to glow a soft green light. His hands moved rapidly over its surface. He leaned into it whispering into its glow. As he worked, Flynn advanced from behind. He wrapped his arms around Rusty¡¯s neck and pulled him back.

    Rusty wrenched himself from Flynn¡¯s hold and swung a wild punch at him, missing only by a whisker as Flynn nimbly dodged. The two collided again, a flurry of claws raking and teeth snapping inches apart. Just when it seemed Rusty was about to gain the upper hand, the vet swept the broom forcefully across the table. The blow sent both rats tumbling to the floor, their fight abruptly broken.

    Groaning, Flynn struggled to lift himself from the floor, his injured leg bending unnaturally beneath him, forcing him to collapse again with a grimace of pain. Meanwhile, Rusty, unshaken, calmly brushed the dust from his fur and began stalking forward, his black soulless eyes zeroing on Flynn. Before he could strike, Lee¡¯s powerful jaws snapped around Rusty¡¯s tail. With a fierce shake, he hurled the rat aside, sending him crashing into an overturned shelf.

    The blow seemed to barely faze the rat. He rose again, shaking off the impact as if it were nothing. His cold, black eyes remained locked on Flynn, who was still struggling to get up on his feet. Slowly and purposefully, Rusty moved toward him, closing in for the kill.

    Marlow emerged from behind the fallen shelf, his hands steady as they gripped the razor blade. There was no hesitation when he swung, the blade arcing through the air and biting deep into the nape of Rusty¡¯s neck. Rusty let out a strangled cry and staggered forward, landing on all fours as a shudder rippled through his body.

    Marlow didn¡¯t stop. He swung the blade again.

    ¡°Nooooo!¡± Flynn let out a heart-wrenching scream filled with such anguish that even I felt the sting of his pain in my chest. He watched in helpless horror and devastation, fully aware he was powerless to stop the Wise Keeper.

    I¡¯d seen brutality before¡ªhad even participated in it. Catching rats, tearing them apart, it was instinctual, something excusable in the natural order of things. But this was something else entirely.

    Blow after blow rained down, scattering dark flecks of blood across the floor, until, at last, the head severed completely from the body. It rolled to a stop at Flynn¡¯s feet, its glassy eyes staring into nothingness. The wraith was now gone.

    Marlow stood there, breath ragged and chest heaving, the blade slipping from his grip to the blood-streaked floor. His gaze fell upon Rusty''s headless body, his face crumbling with sorrow and regret.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he started to say, a tremor shaking his voice as he spoke. ¡°But there was no other way¡­ No Soul Cleanser, no chance to bring him back to the nest safely. Nothing else could have saved him. Nothing¡­¡±

    ¡°Filthy rats!¡± Dr. Starkey shouted, thrusting the broom at Marlow. With forceful jabs, she drove him out the opening flap of the tarp sheet that served as the door. Spinning on her heel, she turned her attention to Flynn. She shoved him toward the exit next. He stumbled, his limp worsening as the broom''s bristles nudged him out.

    Meanwhile, Alan knelt beside Rusty¡¯s body, her expression troubled as she examined the bloody scene. ¡°That was¡­ strange,¡± she said. ¡°Why would a rat attack another rat, much less use a razor blade to decapitate it?¡±

    Dr. Starkey sighed, shaking her head. ¡°The rats have been acting crazier than usual lately. My advice? Stay away from rat vendors. You never know what you¡¯re getting.¡±

    Dropping the broom, the vet gathered Lee in her arms, his trembling body fragile against her steady grip. Soft, pitiful whimpers escaped him, and blood continued to trickle from his wounded ear, staining her white sleeve with thin, red streaks. She strode toward the pile of cages¡ªonce a neatly stacked tower, now a scattered mess from Lee¡¯s earlier antics. Carefully, she eased him into one and clicked the door shut.

    ¡°And what¡¯s the plan for the dog?¡± Alan asked.

    ¡°I''ll have to take a good look at his ear and fix him right up,¡± Dr. Starkey replied matter-of-factly. ¡°And then it''s off to the Shelter for the both of them.¡±

    ¡°Both of them?¡±

    Dr. Starkey''s eyebrow shot up as she gestured toward the incredible mess around them. ¡°Yes, both,¡± she snapped. ¡°Just look at what they¡¯ve done! They¡¯ve wrecked my home, and now, to make matters worse, there are rats crawling about!¡±

    Alan¡¯s eyes hardened, and she shook her head. ¡°You can take the dog but not Page,¡± she said firmly. ¡°He¡¯s coming back with me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s wise,¡± the vet cautioned. ¡°He could be infected. If you take him back, you risk spreading it on the ship. It¡¯s safer to isolate him in the Shelter and monitor his condition.¡±

    Alan and I locked eyes through the tiny window of the cage. Don¡¯t let her take me to the Shelter, I pleaded.

    ¡°He seems fine now,¡± Alan said evenly. ¡°Look at him¡ªhe¡¯s much calmer. And his eyes¡­ they were black before but now they''ve turned back to normal.¡±

    Dr. Starkey¡¯s wide brown eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, scrutinizing me through the window. I swallowed back the hiss rising in my throat. She had wanted to cut me open! And now, she wanted to dump me in that dreaded Shelter.

    ¡°Well, fine,¡± she said after a pause, shrugging dismissively. ¡°Your call. But if you take him back, it¡¯s on you if something happens.¡±

 Chapter 16: Alans Story

    I was back on NOAH 1. The moment my paws touched down on the deck, I couldn''t contain myself. I erupted into jubilant circles and leaps. I planted kisses on the worn wooden boards. Never again, I vowed silently, would I abandon this vessel, no matter how curiosity clawed at my mind or adventure whispered its siren song. I was certain no power on Earth¡ªor beyond it¡ªwould compel me to leave this ship again.

    Oh, the miseries that wanderlust had wrought upon me! To keep my resolve strong, I called to mind the near-death experiences that should have killed my wanderlust once and for all: Page, remember being flung from your body, reduced to begging rats for help, while that masked stranger¡¯s spirit wore your skin like a suit? And the alley¡­how close you came to ruin at the tendrils of a blob-controlled rat! These were not mere adventures; they were brushes with oblivion.

    I had tempted fate one too many times. Let the wide world remain uncharted, I thought. And so, NOAH 1, my bastion, I would not abandon you again. This was a promise I made to myself. A pledge I intended to keep, though I knew well how fickle resolve could be. Inevitably, the pull of family would grow too strong, and I¡¯d find myself yearning to visit Ziggy, Wanda, and their little brood. He was my only brother, after all.

    The vet had whisked him back to Little Eden. Back to his anxious forever partner Wanda and their four kittens. What excuse could he offer them after vowing to stay safe?

    I could picture him now: Ziggy, bruised and hobbling on his bandaged legs, sheepishly explaining to Wanda how his latest promise to avoid danger had gone laughably awry. She, no doubt, would glare at him with the exasperation only a mate could muster and scold him while their kittens peered up with wide, curious eyes, giggling at their father¡¯s misadventures, perhaps thinking that their father was the bravest creature alive.

    As for the rats, they were nowhere to be seen by the time Alan and I left Sea Green behind. At the port, as Gunther readied his boat for the return to NOAH 1, I could only assume that Flynn and Marlow had gone back to their nest in Big Yard empty handed. Rusty¡¯s body was thrown into the flames of a hearth.

    Lee, on the other hand, faced a different fate. The vet had dispatched a message to the Warden, who promptly arrived at Sea Green to haul Lee to the Shelter. But I didn''t worry much for him. That dog had a knack for escaping the inescapable; he was a master escape artist. It was only a matter of time before he¡¯d be free again.

    The explosion quickly became the talk of the ship. Black smoke curling into the sky was visible from miles away, which only fueled the residents¡¯ curiosity. Some claimed the explosion was due to a gas leak ignited by the masked stranger striking a match to light an oil lamp. That single spark, they said, had triggered the catastrophic detonation.

    I had my own theory: the masked stranger had rigged the apothecary with explosives as a failsafe for his mission. When his plans fell apart, he destroyed the site to guard its dark purpose. And what was that purpose? The apothecary was no ordinary shop¡ªit was a covert laboratory where he conducted grisly experiments on animals, testing the effects of the blobs. His ultimate goal, I suspected, was to unleash the blobs on Floating City and manipulate its inhabitants using a carefully calibrated frequency.

    The humans had no inkling of the true depths of this mystery, and perhaps they would always remain oblivious. With the masked stranger dead and his shop destroyed, any hope of uncovering the truth had perished alongside them. For the humans, the case was closed.

    But I couldn¡¯t help wondering¡­was it really over? Rusty had activated one of the black stones, its surface glowed green as he whispered into it. Was it a message? A warning? A plea? And if so, to whom? Could it have been to the Central Command? Would they have understood a message from a rat? And where, I wondered, was this enigmatic entity located?

    The only humans beyond the floating settlements I knew of were the pirates. Louis had often spoken of them in disdain. Loud, crude, and reckless, they fought fiercely with swords and firearms cobbled together from salvaged metal. They ruled the seas through brute force. But, for all their ferocity, they lacked the advanced intellect or resources to engineer creations as sophisticated as the black stones and the blobs.

    Alan turned the stones over to Captain Francis. She recounted where she had discovered them and described everything she had witnessed at the apothecary. But still, neither she nor the captain could connect the scattered clues to form a cohesive picture. They puzzled over the mystery. They scratched their heads and rubbed their chins, muttering to themselves, ¡°What could it all mean?¡±

    If only I could voice my thoughts, but it wasn¡¯t my place. Besides, I couldn¡¯t afford to dwell on this case any longer. It had consumed enough of my mind already. I needed to step back. What happened that day had already begun to seep into my dreams.

    The red tendrils snaked around my legs. Their grip tightened with every frantic move I made. I slashed and clawed. My teeth gnashed at their slimy flesh, but their acidic blood burned through my fur, stinging my skin beneath. The blob sprouted more and more tendrils. And then he appeared. His mask fell away, and the horror beneath froze my blood. His face¡ªif it could be called a human face¡ªwas that of a bloated and bulbous pufferfish.

    He was after me. My legs pumped furiously, but it felt as though I were running in place. Behind me, he was gaining ground. Summoning all my strength, I leapt blindly and landed in a labyrinth. It stretched endlessly, its walls towering high above me, hemming me in on every side. Around each corner, the tendrils were slithering closer. I turned again, only to stumble upon the decaying corpse of a rat.

    I rounded another bend and hit a dead end. Breathless, I turned to face my doom. The tendrils writhed closer, their acidic stink filling up my nostrils and burning my brain, and when I looked up, the stranger loomed above me. His pufferfish face filled my vision as his clammy hands plucked me off the ground. I dangled in his grip, face to face with those bulging fish eyes, as terror rooted me in silence.

    Tilting his head back, he parted his jaws, revealing a vast, gaping maw. I dangled helplessly above the abyss, the darkness within pulling me closer. And then he released me. I tumbled, weightless and helpless, plunging into the void of his open mouth, disappearing into the swallowing darkness.

    I¡¯d snap awake, shaking, my fur on edge and my paws sweating. Alan¡¯s arms would wrap around me, her warmth chasing away the cold fear as she whispered softly, promising it would all be okay. Slowly, I''d drift back to sleep.

    By the second night, sleep escaped me entirely. It danced just out of reach. Restless, I slipped out of Alan¡¯s suite and began wandering the ship¡¯s quiet hallway. As I roamed, a few residents paused as they passed, kneeling to stroke my fur or scratch behind my ears. Their gentle touch brought a solace I hadn¡¯t realized I craved. I realized that in seeking their affection, I found the comfort I needed¡ªjust as they found something soothing in me.

    My ears perked up at the sound of a ball thudding rhythmically against a wall. Who could be playing ball at such a late hour?

    There were familiar voices¨Cone belonging to a boy caught between childhood and young adulthood, the other to a bright, energetic girl. Curious, I traced the sounds to the playroom. This was where the ship¡¯s children would swim through the ball pit, dash across the basketball court, or rally in a spirited game of pickleball.

    The playroom was in near-total darkness, but a shadow moved¡ªa ball bouncing off the wall, rolling steadily in my direction. It was a red rubber ball. But who had thrown it? There was no one in sight, no hand to claim the throw.

    The room appeared empty, but I was not truly alone. Two humans were there, lingering in the shadows, even though I could not see them. I knew who they were.

    The ball appeared to possess a mind of its own, rolling deliberately out the door and inviting me to follow. Down the hallway it led me, then up the groaning stairs to the next level, and along another dim corridor passing the chapel. A chill coursed through me, but curiosity got the best of me. I poked my head inside, and there they were¡ªtwo small bodies, each wrapped in dark green cloth, lying before the altar. Tomorrow, the farewell ceremony would send them to the sea, their eternal resting place.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I continued to trail the ball which had stopped in front of the infirmary door, slightly ajar. With a gentle push of my paw, I widened the gap and slipped inside. The room was quiet; the nurse was nowhere to be seen. Then, I heard it¡ªsoft, broken cries coming from the patients¡¯ room.

    Sam! There he was stirring in his bed. He sniffled, wiping at the tears glistening on his cheeks. The candle beside his bed, its flame wavering, had burned down to a tiny stub. He sat up slowly, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the gloom.

    ¡°Page? Is that you?¡± he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

    I leaped onto the foot of his bed.

    ¡°Can you come closer?¡± he whispered, barely audible.

    I padded over, and as I reached him, he pulled me into his arms. His grip was tight, almost too tight, but I didn¡¯t squirm. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, his breaths ragged, his chest rising and falling with every shuddering sob. His tears dampened my fur, but I stayed still, letting him hold on as though I were the only anchor keeping him from drifting into despair.

    ¡°Oh, Page, the captain told me something terrible today,¡± he whispered into the silence, his voice cracking. His hands were shaking as he stroked my back. ¡°I¡¯m all alone now. They¡¯re gone... Mom¡¯s gone... Joe and Anne too.¡±

    He paused, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs, coughing softly as he struggled to continue. ¡°And Dad¡­ The captain says he is still out there somewhere, trying to make his way back home. But I know that¡¯s not true.¡± His voice cracked, and his tears fell freely now. ¡°He¡¯s gone too. They¡¯re all gone. My family¡¯s gone.¡±

    He clung to me tighter, his fingers gripping my fur as though afraid I might vanish too. ¡°Everything¡¯s so different now. Everything¡¯s so¡­wrong. But you¡¯re still here, Page. You¡¯re still here with me.¡±

    I felt his grief in every shiver, in the way his fingers clung to my fur like I was his last lifeline. I wanted to tell him it would be alright. I nestled closer to him, hoping that my presence, however small, might ease the ache in his chest.

    <hr>

    A steward woke me up the next morning, ushering me off the bed while she set about waking Sam. I remained nearby, hopping up onto a chair. She placed a breakfast tray in front of him¡ªseaweed soup and grilled mackerel, the savory scent lingering in the air. As she exited the room, Sam noticed my longing gaze toward the mackerel and chuckled. ¡°Come on,¡± he said, patting the spot beside him, inviting me to sit.

    He handed me a generous portion of the fish, which I accepted with eager paws. Together, we ate in silence, savoring the meal. Once our bellies were full, the steward returned to take away the dishes, and after a short nap, we were awakened by a soft knock on the door. Alan entered with a wheelchair, rolling it carefully into the room. It was a makeshift contraption, put together from two metal slabs and bicycle wheels, salvaged from the scraps in Big Yard. It had once belonged to an elderly woman who had passed away long ago.

    Alan, ever thoughtful, suggested Sam could use a breath of fresh air. She eased him into the chair, and I curled up comfortably in his lap. Together, we moved down the hallway and up a ramp, Alan pushing us toward the inviting openness of the promenade deck.

    The stillness of the sea stretched out before us, its deep blue surface smooth as glass. In the distance, the faint silhouettes of Floating City¡¯s buildings rose against the horizon, their outlines shimmering in the sunlight.

    Alan broke the silence, turning to Sam with a thoughtful look. At first, her voice faltered, as though unsure how to begin. Then she asked, ¡°Would you like to hear a story?¡±

    Sam shrugged. ¡°Maybe. What kind of story?¡±

    ¡°An adventure story,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s about how I came to live on NOAH 1.¡±

    Sam¡¯s brow furrowed in surprise. ¡°I thought you¡¯d always lived here.¡±

    Alan shook her head, a faint smile crossing her lips. ¡°No. I wasn¡¯t born on NOAH 1¡ªor even in Floating City.¡±

    My ears pricked up. Alan had always been part of NOAH 1, a familiar presence among Captain Francis¡¯ crew and one of my closest human companions. It had never occurred to me that she¡¯d once belonged to a world beyond the floating settlements. Jimmy was the only person I¡¯d ever known who had lived through both the world before and after the Great Wrath. His life had been an odyssey across ships of all kinds, like merchant vessels, explorers, and he even sailed under the flag of pirates.

    ¡°My earliest memory is of touching sand,¡± she began, her voice soft and distant. ¡°Watching the waves roll up the shore, reaching for my toes like they were playing a game.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªsand?¡± Sam¡¯s head tilted in confusion. ¡°You mean¡­ you lived on land? I thought all the land was swallowed by the ocean long ago.¡±

    ¡°Not all of it. There are still a few islands out there,¡± she said. ¡°The sand on my island was soft¡ªsofter than anything else¡ªand it shined, almost like silver, in the sunlight. I remember being on that beach with my brother¡ª¡±

    ¡°You had a brother?¡± Sam cut in, his eyebrows raised.

    Her smile faltered, then faded. ¡°Yes, he was much older than me¨Che was about your brother''s age, 12 or 13, and I was several years younger. We lived together, along with our mom and dad, in a small red house.¡±

    ¡°What was his name?¡±

    She fell silent for a moment, her eyes distant, slipping into a shadow of sadness. ¡°I don¡¯t remember his name anymore,¡± she admitted. ¡°But I remember the life we had¡ªworking in a big garden that we shared with our neighbors, playing, laughing. Everyone shared what they grew, and life felt simple, full. It was¡­ perfect.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you leave?¡± Sam asked gently.

    ¡°I had no choice.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± Sam leaned closer, his eyes widening with newfound interest. It was as if her words had begun to chip away at his grief, offering him a brief escape.

    ¡°Our village gathered for a feast one sunny afternoon when a ship appeared. It was no match for NOAH 1 in size¡ªsmaller by far¡ªbut it carried a hundred people aboard. So, we all made our way down to the shore to greet the newcomers. The captain stood out among them. He was impossible to miss with his long red coat. His braided black beard, thick as a rope, fell past his round belly. His crew called him Long Beard, but his real name was Magnus.¡±

    ¡°Pirates,¡± Sam spat with disdain. ¡°Dad used to talk about them. The ones he had encountered were bad men.¡±

    ¡°We didn''t know about pirates then,¡± said Alan. ¡°We welcomed him and his crew into our village.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn''t have done that¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, Magnus was crude and raucous, but he definitely had an undeniable charm and the village fell for it. We shared our drinks and food. We sang and danced long into the night, beneath the stars. Then, the mood changed, and my world was forever changed.

    ¡°People were either drunk or asleep when Magnus gave the order for his crew to seize the island. His crew killed anyone who stood in their way. My father was a brave man. He stood his ground to protect my mother, my brother, and me. My mother packed a small bag with clothes and food and told my brother and me to flee to the docks. She stayed behind, vowing to follow us with my father.¡±

    Alan¡¯s voice grew quieter, as if reliving the memory. ¡°At the beach, my brother helped me into a boat, but Magnus appeared out of nowhere, snatching him away. My brother didn¡¯t go quietly. He fought fiercely with all his strength, just like our father, even managing to grab Long Beard¡¯s sword and slash his hand.¡±

    ¡°And then you both got away?¡± Sam asked, leaning in eagerly.

    ¡°No. Magnus¡¯s men swarmed us. They took my brother while one of them tried to claim my boat. I fought back, striking him square in the face with the oar before pushing off. I drifted alone into the sea. That night, I swore to myself that one day I¡¯d return. I¡¯d take back my island. My home.¡±

    ¡°NOAH 1 is your home now.¡±

    She turned toward him, a wistful smile playing on her lips. ¡°I lost my family, but¡­¡± Her voice faltered for a moment before drawing a deep breath to regain strength. ¡°I gained so much more. Everyone on NOAH 1¡ªthey¡¯re my family now.¡±

    Sam¡¯s face lighted up in anticipation, eyes sparkling with curiosity. ¡°So,¡± he asked eagerly, ¡°what happens next in your story?¡±

    We strolled around the deck with Alan pushing the wheelchair while I remained nestled on Sam¡¯s lap, his hands absently stroking my back and head. We listened to Alan¡¯s stories of her solitary adventures on the open ocean. Some of them seemed too extraordinary to be true, so wild that they felt like myths.

    She spoke of the time a shark, enormous as the ancient megalodon, circled her boat before overturning it with a single nudge of its monstrous snout. She would have been lost had it not been for a pod of leviathan whales that came to her rescue. Their immense strength tore the predator apart. One of the whales sheltered her in its cavernous mouth for days.

    ¡°It was like a vast, living cave,¡± she said, her eyes alight with the memory. ¡°I survived on krill, crabs, and whatever else it swallowed along the way.¡±

    ¡°Did you really live inside a whale?¡± Sam asked with a burst of laughter, his eyes wide with disbelief.

    ¡°Yes, I did! Every word of it is true,¡± Alan replied, tousling Sam¡¯s hair with a grin.

    ¡°And then what happened?¡±

    Alan chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°I think we¡¯ll have to save the rest of the stories for another time. Stories like that aren¡¯t meant to be rushed.¡±

    ¡°Aww, but I want to hear¡ªPage, where are you going?¡±

    I leapt off his lap, my ears catching a faint, steady beeping from above¡ªcoming from the navigation deck. I dashed toward the stairwell. When I reached the navigation table, I froze. The black stones Alan had placed there lay undisturbed, except for one. It glowed with a vivid red light.

 Chapter 17: The White Whale

    The promise I had made to myself¡ªto never abandon my beloved home¡ªproved as fragile as the glass cup I knocked from the table. It had been half-filled with amber liquid, meant for Captain Francis, who slept soundly in his chair, feet propped lazily on the table.

    Francis¡¯s eyes shot open at the noise. It brought him abruptly back to the waking world. His glare moved from the glittering shards of the cup on the floor to me, but the beeping black stone quickly caught his attention, and suddenly he sat upright, alarmed.

    He seized a yellow acoustic megaphone and stepped out of the room, his booming voice rang out: ¡°Alan, to the navigation deck¡ªnow!¡±

    Moments later, Alan arrived and placed her hand on the surface of the beeping black stone. The translucent blue map burst into view, spreading across the space in front of us. From this bird¡¯s-eye perspective, the sea stretched out in glowing detail, with NOAH 1 and nearby ships marked as white specks. A blinking red dot moved slowly toward our position. Numbers materialized in midair: coordinates, speed, and an estimated time of arrival. Whatever was coming, it was heading straight for us.

    The second black stone lit up, glowing green. Alan touched it, and in the air above the stone a hazy projection of a man¡¯s face appeared. At first glance, he seemed like any other human, but upon a closer look subtle abnormalities soon became apparent:¡ªbulging dark eyes reminiscent of deep-sea creatures, and jagged teeth protruding from his lower jaw, giving him a faintly fishlike appearance.

    ¡°The Security Council received an unusual message,¡± he began, his gaze scanning us, though I could tell he was speaking to a recording device just out of view. ¡°Strange that it came from a rat¡­ Nonetheless, they saw it as proof of your success in training the creatures. The Commander has now ordered us to establish a second base and proceed with phase two of the Plan. Our Surface Contacts are ready to assist, and they¡¯ve proposed a different borough for the setup. It will be¡ª¡±

    A sudden disturbance behind him broke his focus. His head jerked to the side, his expression shifting from confidence to shock. ¡°HOW DID YOU¡ª¡± he began, but before he could finish, his image vanished, and the green glow of the stone faded into nothingness.

    Alan turned to Francis. ¡°What do you make of this, Captain?¡±

    Francis¡¯s lips tightened into a grim line. ¡°It looks like we¡¯re about to have company¡ªuninvited company.¡± He wasted no time giving orders. Three boats were dispatched to investigate the source of the red blip. Whoever was brazen enough to breach NOAH 1¡¯s sea boundary would answer to the captain.

    I couldn¡¯t just stay behind! The thrill of action set my thoughts ablaze. Who was this stranger? Were they alone? The only way to find out was to join the mission. And so, I broke my promise¡ªjust a crack¡ªand joined one of the boats with Alan, Francis, and another crew member.

    The boats stayed within the sea boundary of NOAH 1, as per Francis¡¯s command. We were there to watch, wait, and prepare for the worst. Harpoons and muskets forged from salvaged metal were at hand, ready to be used only if the approaching entity posed a threat.

    I took my place on the bow standing next to Alan, who was scanning the horizon through a telescope. My own eyes watched the endless stretch of waves, seeking any sign of the shadow of a ship. More questions churned in my mind: Was their vessel larger or smaller than ours? If they possessed superior technology, did we have any hope of standing our ground?

    As the minutes dragged on, eventually bleeding into hours, I could feel the tension ease slightly. The others were beginning to let their guard down, though Francis remained vigilant with his harpoon gun in hand. Alan, seated cross-legged beside me, set the telescope aside. A strand of black hair escaped her ponytail, falling across her face. She brushed it aside, then reached into her pocket to retrieve the black stone. She held it carefully as she examined its surface.

    I leaned against her leg, craning over her arm to get a better view of the device. My eyes caught on something I hadn¡¯t noticed before. There were three circles etched into one side of the stone, each enclosing a distinct symbol: two interlocking squares, three wavy vertical, and four arrows crossing one another like the spokes of a compass.

    The moment her thumb brushed the Two Squares symbol, blue light flowed from the device, showing the translucent map in the air, revealing our location and the surrounding area. Three white dots marked our exact position. The red dot, blinking steadily, lingered miles away, its pace noticeably slower. All seemed calm¡ªuntil it picked up speed again.

    I swiped at the map, but my paw passed right through it. The red dot flickered, stilled, and then vanished. Alan switched off the map, tucked the stone back into her pocket, and raised the telescope to her eye.

    ¡°I think I see something!¡± she shouted.

    I strained my eyes but saw nothing beyond the small waves cresting in the distance. Then, the waves began to rise, swelling higher and higher, until we faced a monstrous wall of water. Its roar was deafening, a bone-rattling thunder that scrambled my thoughts and shook my senses.

    ¡°Brace yourselves!¡± Francis yelled.

    I felt a hand snatch me up, shielding me beneath something warm and steady as the boat, tilting upward, climbed the face of the monstrous wave.

    <hr>

    Several months ago, we faced the fiercest storm NOAH 1 had ever endured. The wind, like the howl of a thousand enraged beasts, tore at the rigging and battered the hull. Its icy claws raked across the decks, while the rain hammered down in furious torrents like gunfire.

    Francis gave the order to lift the anchor as the storm intensified, knowing that leaving it down risked tearing the ship apart.

    ¡°Anchor up! I¡¯ll bring her bow to meet the waves!¡± he shouted, and the crew scrambled to obey.

    With the storm clawing at the ship from all sides, he turned the bow toward the waves at a slight angle, guiding the ship to ride the swells and keeping the massive forces from slamming broadside. Waves, each larger than the last, rose like waking giants, lifting the vessel to dizzying heights before plunging it into deep troughs as though it was just a mere plaything. The ship pitched and rolled, its steel body groaning in protest but holding strong. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    When the waves settled and the wind''s roar dwindled to a whisper, the ship became lodged on a craggy island that had appeared out of nowhere. Many residents took the chance to climb down and investigate this new land. Among the eager explorers were the Kelping children, their young hearts beating with the hope of finding their long-lost father marooned on the island.

    Unsurprisingly, the island offered little¨Conly jagged rocks, a scattering of sea plants, and small creatures left behind by the retreating tide. Joe joined the carefree games of children his age, while Anne crouched by a tide pool, enthralled by the tiny creatures within. She cupped a hermit crab in her hand and tried to catch her mother¡¯s eye. Her mother, however, was focused on Sam, who couldn¡¯t swim and had wandered off to peer into a different tide pool.

    But our exploration was cut short when the waters rose suddenly and swallowed the land. The residents scattered in a desperate rush, some were swept away, vanishing beneath the waves, while others clambered aboard in time.

    A handful took to dinghy boats, hastily lowered from above. At the last moment, I clambered into one with Alan who saved Sam from being nearly wrenched away by a powerful surge, pulling him safely aboard. On the ship¡¯s deck, Joe and Anne, clutching their mother¡¯s arms, watched in horror as they realized Sam wasn¡¯t with them.

    But the moment we thought we were safe in the dinghy, Sam cried out, pointing to the dark shapes emerging in the water. Sleek fins cut through the waves as more than one glided in slow circles around the boats. One by one, they began bumping the sides, their intent was obvious: to hurl us into the waters and straight into their hungry jaws.

    We froze as the sea monster started closing the distance, its rows of jagged teeth rushing straight at us. Then, with a violent jolt, something struck the beast, sending it thrashing backward, its blood erupting into the air and drenching us. I looked up to see the glint of a harpoon fired from a large gun. More harpoons followed. They whistled through the air then sliced through the waves, driving back the attacking creatures until the waters around us were stained a deep red.

    <hr>

    But the force we faced was unlike the storm in every possible way. I was drenched to the bone, my fur slicked with seawater. The other two boats were capsized, their crews thrashing in the water, struggling against the surging waves. Our boat was the only one still afloat, though thoroughly soaked from the wave that had crashed down upon us.

    Francis gritted his teeth. He stood at the bow, his harpoon ready, tracking the dark shadow circling us just beneath the surface. Then, he fired. The spear struck, but instead of piercing, it deflected off the creature as though hitting solid iron. Whatever was in the water was no ordinary sea creature¡ªit was something else, something nature herself could never have produced.

    ¡°That thing¡¯s no ordinary sea beast,¡± he growled, yanking the harpoon back by its rope. He reloaded it and fired again, but this time the creature vanished. A new wave rose in its wake and it slammed into us with enough force to nearly split it apart.

    Alan clutched me tightly against her chest. And then, the world spun upside down. The cold hit me like a thousand needles. Everything went black as we plunged headlong into the freezing abyss.

    Just as I teetered on the threshold to meet the maker of the universe, life surged back into me. Air flooded my lungs in a sharp gasp, followed by a torrent of water that I heaved out, sputtering and choking. Alan lay nearby, rolling onto her side as she hacked up seawater. We were sprawled on something solid, smooth, and white¡ªnothing natural like the leathery back of a whale or the rough hide of some sea predator.

    ¡°Help me!¡± Francis¡¯s voice rang out over the crashing waves. He was fighting against the water, his strokes frantic as he neared. Alan scrambled to the edge, extending her hand. She grabbed hold and pulled him up onto the strange platform with us. Both of them were panting and soaked to the bone.

    Francis raked his fingers through his wet beard and dark hair, his eyes searching the waters for the third member of our crew. Fragments of wood from our boat bobbed around us. The stern of our vessel was half-submerged while the rest of it was gone. And then, a wrenching cry tore from Francis¡¯s throat as he saw a motionless figure floating face down.

    The current carried the body farther and farther away, slipping beyond any hope of retrieval. On the hulls of their upturned boats, the other survivors gestured frantically, shouting something we couldn¡¯t hear. Their words were drowned out by the distance.

    ¡°What do you suppose this is?¡± Alan wondered aloud as she knelt to run her fingers over the smooth surface.

    I padded carefully along its length. It wasn¡¯t flesh or bone¡ªno creature would feel this way. My mind settled on one conclusion: a machine. Could it be some sort of ship built to travel underwater? The thought struck me as absurd¡ªwho would create such a thing? I had never encountered¡ªor even imagined¡ªsuch an invention. But here it was, under my paws, defying logic and stirring questions I couldn¡¯t answer. It challenged everything I believed possible. Then again, the past few days had shattered every notion of logic I once held.

    The machine let out a deep, resonant groan, like a slumbering giant stirring after a centuries-long sleep.  None of us moved. My fur bristled as fear crept over me. The thought of it submerging again, dragging us into the depths to meet our end, made me sick to my stomach. Then came a sharp hiss, and at the far end of the craft, a circular hatch began to form, yawning open like the maw of a great beast.

    Alan took a step toward the opening, but Francis raised a hand to stop her. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± he ordered.  ¡°We can¡¯t just rush in. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s in there.¡±

    We stood there, silent and expectant, staring at the dark opening. Moments passed in tense silence, broken only by the gentle lap of waves against the machine. When nothing stirred, Francis made his move, approaching cautiously. Alan and I followed, just far enough behind to let him take the lead.

    Peering inside, I first thought the interior was nothing but impenetrable darkness. But then a faint, sporadic light flickered within like a dying ember. Francis knelt at the edge of the hatch, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Then, steeling himself with a sharp intake of breath, he jumped in, feet first.

    Alan let out a startled cry. ¡°Francis!¡±

    The clang of his boots hitting a metal floor echoed up to us.

    ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± he called back.

    The machine hummed to life, its walls coming to life with rows of glowing buttons and switches, and numbers and strange symbols flickered across smooth black stones. Alan jumped inside, and I followed, my paws landing sharply on the cold metal floor with a jarring thud. The corridor stretched before us. Francis studied the walls in stunned amazement, clearly taken aback by the bizarre sight.

    ¡°It just occurred to me that I¡¯ve heard of something like this,¡± Alan said thoughtfully.

    Francis shot her a curious look. ¡°You have?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°But it''s all just stories from Jimmy and the old residents who lived before the Great Wrath.¡±

    ¡°What kind of stories?¡±

    ¡°Some of them, like Jimmy, used to be part of something called The Navy. They worked on ships, and sometimes, the ships could go underwater¡ªsubmarines, they were called.¡±

    ¡°Submarines?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but they weren¡¯t designed simply to navigate the ocean,¡± she continued. ¡°They were built for war.¡±

    ¡°War? Like what pirates¨C¡±

    ¡°No, not quite. Pirates are disorganized thieves. The Navy was different. They would wage battles against other navies and launch missiles to sink enemy ships.¡±

    Francis swallowed hard as he looked to the solid metal door at the end of the corridor. ¡°Then it means there¡¯s someone¡ªor more¡ªoperating this... submarine.¡±

    We moved closer and pressed our ears to the door. On the other side, something was dragging itself across the floor, and there was a drawn-out moan.

 Chapter 18: An Unknwon

    Alan stepped back from the door, her eyes searching its surface and the surrounding walls, looking for anything that might grant them entry.

    A glint of metal caught her eye.

    A switch.

    She turned toward Francis, seeking approval. Once he gave a nod, she reached for the switch and, hesitating only for a fraction of a second, flicked it. The door hissed softly as it slid sideways, vanishing seamlessly into the wall, and we stepped through the opening.

    A blue beam of light streaked past, grazing Francis¡¯s jaw and scorching the tips of his black beard before striking the closing door behind us, showering us with a cascade of sparks. Francis¡¯s face turned ashen, his body frozen in place, caught in the grip of shock.

    Before he could become an easy target, Alan wasted no time¡ªher hand shot out, gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him forward, forcing him to duck and take shelter behind a large, solid circular table carved from something that gleamed like polished onyx.

    I bolted to the nearest metal column, pressing my side against its cool surface before daring to peek out around its edge, scanning frantically for the shooter.

    On the far side of the room, slumped against a long, curved control panel, lay a man in a dark blue metallic suit. One arm trembled as it struggled to aim a gun, while the other hand clutched his side, where dark blood seeped through a jagged tear, pooling around him. His pale, slimy and hairless complexion was distorted: his swollen lips drooling, his bloated cheeks sagging, and his bloodshot eyes bulging out of their sockets.

    The gun wavered in his weakening grip, and when he attempted another shot, his arm gave out. The weapon slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor as his body slumped sideways, motionless.

    We didn¡¯t move a muscle, each of us waiting in uneasy silence for any sign of another shooter. When no sound came and no figure emerged, I dared to move first. Slipping away from the column, I crept toward the fallen body, my paws padding softly across the floor. My nose wrinkled as I sniffed the thick pool of blood surrounding it.

    Human, but not entirely. There was something else¡ªa sour, briny smell. It reminded me of the aroma that wafted through the air when I strolled past the fish market vendors on Old Rig.

    My nose twitched, and my whiskers tingled as I continued to investigate. Nearby, I found another body, also clad in a metallic suit. It lay face down, its head surrounded by blood. Leaning closer, I saw where the blood was spilling from¡ªa ragged wound in its neck. Then I noticed something protruding from its mouth: a blob of flesh-like tendrils.

    I hissed, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. My ears flattened, and my body tensed as I backed away, fur bristling and tail lashing. My eyes stayed locked on the tendrils, unease clawing at me. What if it wasn¡¯t truly dead? What if it still squirmed inside the corpse, waiting for the right moment to strike?

    From the state of the room, it was clear a fight had taken place between these strange humanoids. The walls were peppered with small holes. The control panel was damaged, its surface scorched and cracked, and wires jutted out in tangled clumps.

    There had to be more of these humanoids somewhere on this massive submarine. The question was¡­where?

    I sprang onto a chair, then leaped onto the control panel, sniffing cautiously at the cracked buttons and sputtering switches. Their faint, erratic flickers danced like nervous fireflies.

    Francis emerged slowly from behind the round table, straightened, and approached me. He gave me a quick scratch behind the ears before scooping me up with one arm.

    ¡°Page, don¡¯t touch anything,¡± he chided gently, then set me down on the smooth, black stone table and turned his attention to the first body.

    He knelt beside the lifeless form, studying it  before picking up the gun lying next to it. The weapon had a sleek black body with neon blue accents tracing its edges. Its barrel emitted a soft glow from an energy core visible through a transparent chamber, where plasma-like energy swirled and pulsed.

    Moving to the second corpse, his expression contorted in disgust as he noticed the tendrils protruding from its mouth.

    ¡°What the hell happened to their faces?¡± he asked, the question more for himself than anyone else.

    Alan stood and moved around the table for a better look at the body. ¡°I¡¯ve seen something like this before.¡±

    Francis blinked in surprise. ¡°You have?¡±

    Alan nodded grimly. ¡°The apothecary owner; the one who sold Sarah Kelping the poison. When Page tore his mask off, his face and tongue ballooned in exactly the same way.¡±

    Francis¡¯s expression darkened, fear flickering in his eyes. He inhaled sharply as he began connecting a series of invisible dots.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Alan pressed, sensing his apprehension.

    ¡°They''re not human.. they just couldn''t be,¡± Francis said, his voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°And if they''re not human, then what are we dealing with? Just look at this place!¡±

    He gestured to the cavernous room around them, its incredible machinery humming faintly, glowing white and blue.

    ¡°Where did all of this come from?¡± he continued. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen technology like this. I don¡¯t think past generations even had anything like this before the Great Wrath. And after the apocalypse, we¡¯ve barely managed to rebuild even the simplest tools.¡±

    ¡°Then it means we¡¯ve never been alone on this planet,¡± Alan said with a mix of wonder and dread. ¡°Not above us or beside us, but buried deep in the ocean. And now, finally, their existence is breaking the surface for us to see.¡±

    As I padded across the table, my paws brushed against its dark, glassy surface, landing on a strange symbol of four interlocking squares. A faint hum began to reverberate through the air, growing steadily louder.  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I froze. My tail shot up, rigid as a rod. My ears twitched and my whiskers bristled with an electric tension.

    ¡°Page! Didn¡¯t I tell you not to touch anything?¡± Francis growled. ¡°I¡ª¡± He fell silent, his words swallowed by the incredible scene unveiling overhead.

    The ceiling panels shimmered, a rippling effect spreading across them like water disturbed by a stone. Slowly, they transformed, revealing a breathtaking expanse of bright blue sky, streaked with wisps of clouds, and the roll of waves, lapping at the edges of the frame.

    Francis and Alan stared upward, their words stolen by wonder. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± they breathed.

    For a second, I braced for the water to come flooding in, but it didn¡¯t. It was only a view, just like looking out a window.

    But still, when another wave washed across the ceiling, panic gripped me. Without thinking, I pressed the symbol again. The ripples spread once more, wiping away the scene of the sky and sea, leaving behind the dull, sterile white of the original ceiling.

    ¡°Alright, off the table,¡± Francis commanded, his eyebrow cocked in annoyance but with a smidge of amusement. ¡°And stop messing with things.¡±

    I prepared to leap down, but as I shifted, my paw accidentally grazed another symbol. This one was a simple line marked with arrows pointing left and right.

    For a moment, nothing happened, and I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. Then, a ripple of white light spread across the table. Before I could react, the surface came alive, and a glowing three-dimensional map of the submarine sprang into existence, hovering just above the table like a ghostly projection.

    The brightness of the light struck my eyes like a slap, and I hissed in irritation, my balance faltering at the table¡¯s edge. Alan caught me just in time, pulling me securely into her arms.

    As my vision cleared, the projected grid of corridors and rooms came into focus. Two levels were displayed, with our position marked on the upper level in the Navigation and Control Deck by three green dots, each labeled ¡°Unknown.¡± I figured that they were us. These dots mirrored our movements¡ªwhen Francis stepped toward the table, one dot moved accordingly.

    Two gray dots lay where the corpses were, labeled Officer Eli and Officer Luke. Another gray dot appeared in a room called Preparation on the same floor, with a few more scattered across the lower level, likely other bodies.

    But my stomach sank when I spotted three additional green dots on the lower level, all labeled ¡°Unknown.¡± Two remained motionless in a room marked ¡°Laboratory,¡± but the third moved restlessly, pacing the corridor before disappearing into a room called ¡°Weapons.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not alone,¡± Francis said, his finger pointing to the green dots on the lower level.

    Alan¡¯s breath caught. ¡°There could be more of them.¡± She scanned the room, her eyes darting across the space, looking for anything to use as a weapon. Then, she saw it¡ªnear the second corpse. She let go of me and moved toward it, her fingers shaking as she reached for the weapon.

    Alan arched an eyebrow. ¡°Do you know how to use this thing?¡±

    I wondered the same. Weapons like that didn¡¯t exist on our ship¡ªor any vessel I¡¯d known. Even Floating City relied on harpoons, spears, and muskets hammered from scrap. Muskets were cumbersome, slow to reload, and more of a gamble than a weapon.

    Francis raised the gun, aimed at a wall, and pulled the trigger. A blue beam burst forth, sparking on impact with the wall.

    The Unknown stepped out of the Weapons room and into the main corridor. They seemed to sense they were not alone; maybe they must have heard the shots fired. Their pace faltered, slowing until they came to a cautious halt near a bend in the passage. After a moment¡¯s pause, they turned right, going up into a gently ascending walkway that spiraled toward the first level.

    ¡°Take cover,¡± Francis barked, slipping behind a column near the door where the Unknown would enter.

    Alan pulled me close and crouched behind the table, one arm wrapped around me while her other hand rested on the corner, ready to peek out. I twisted in her grasp, refusing to stay put.

    ¡°Page!¡± she hissed, reaching over to grab me as I broke free. Her fingertips brushed my tail but couldn¡¯t hold me back.

    Without looking back, I sprinted toward the double metal doors. They slid open with a metallic whir, revealing a descending passageway ahead. My mind was racing¨C If I could draw the Unknown¡¯s attention, I might buy enough time for the captain and Alan to gain the upper hand and take it down.

    It was risky, but I had to try.

    As I descended the passageway, I encountered another corpse of the fish-like humanoid. It was slumped against the wall, its head lolled to one side. Tendrils dangled limply from its mouth, and a blackened, gaping hole marred its forehead, the unmistakable result of a gun¡¯s beam.

    Around its body, gelatinous blobs were scattered on the floor, most of them unmoving. One stirred faintly, its slimy tendrils snaking weakly in my direction. Their movements were weak and uncoordinated, and I easily sidestepped its feeble attempt to grab me. The tendrils recoiled, retreating into the blob as if in defeat, curling inward like a creature ashamed of its own impotence.

    Reaching the corner, I slowed to a halt, pressing myself against the wall as the Unknown¡¯s footsteps echoed nearer. My heart pounded like a drum, the sound filling my head. Forcing calm into my chest, I drew a deep breath and released it as a soft meow.

    The footsteps hesitated, faltering mid-stride, then fell completely silent.

    ¡°Was that a cat?¡± A man¡¯s voice, tinged with disbelief, broke the quiet.

    I meowed again, this time a little softer.

    ¡°Hey, come out, buddy,¡± he coaxed, his tone gentle, almost warm.

    Something about his voice struck a chord deep within me. Familiarity washed over me, calming the storm of fear. Whoever this was, they weren¡¯t an enemy. This wasn¡¯t an Unknown¡ªit was someone I knew.

    Trusting the feeling, I stepped forward and turned the corner. My breath caught, and my heart leaped into my throat. Standing just a few yards away, staring back at me with the same look of astonishment, was a man I never thought I¡¯d see again.

    It was Louis Kelping, lost for over seven hundred days¡ªthe man whose children had been waiting all this time for his return, clutching onto hope he¡¯d be back with treasures and stories from his journey, and whose absence had shattered Sarah¡¯s heart. And now, here he stood, impossibly alive, his face a mirror of disbelief.

    His appearance was unkempt, his faded brown jacket hanging loosely over a rumpled shirt and dark green pants. His hair, once neatly trimmed, now fell to his shoulders, and a scruffy beard covered his jawline. On the ship, he had always relied on the barber to keep him tidy with a clean shave and a sharp cut.

    He lowered the long rifle, pulling the strap over his shoulder and sliding the gun behind him. He knelt, arms outstretched.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it! Page!¡± His voice cracked with joy.

    But before anything else could be said, a blue beam shot overhead. Louis ducked, rolling to the side, quickly rising into a crouch with the rifle back in hand. I jumped, startled by the shot, and spun to find Francis standing behind me, gun raised.

    I hissed, frantic. Don¡¯t shoot!

    Louis blinked, then slowly rose to his feet, tucking the rifle behind him.

    ¡°Captain, sir!¡± he exclaimed, his voice bursting with excitement and relief, like someone reuniting with a long-lost friend after decades apart.

    Francis lowered the gun, staring at Louis with wide eyes, as dumbfounded as I had been moments ago. ¡°Kelping? What the hell¡­ How did you¡­ what are you doing here?¡±

    Louis took a step forward, then staggered, swaying unsteadily before collapsing to the floor.

 Chapter 19: The Laboratory

    One of my most important duties aboard NOAH 1 was making sure the humans woke up on time for their duties. This often meant heading to the Navigation Deck, where I¡¯d usually find a petty officer slumped in his chair, sound asleep when he should¡¯ve been alert. My job? To wake him so he could rouse the rest and get the day started. I¡¯d spring onto his chest and deliver a firm thump to his head¡ªwake up! Wake up!

    Startled, he bolted upright, nearly toppling off the chair before regaining his balance. Rubbing his eyes, he¡¯d glance out the window at the faint light of dawn creeping over the horizon. That was his cue. Grabbing the horn, he¡¯d march through the ship¡¯s hallways, from the topmost deck to the very bottom, his blaring call echoing through every deck, impossible to ignore.

    The scavengers¡¯ departure, however, was different from the lively wake-up calls. It was always a quiet affair, their journeys beginning long before the first light of dawn. On the day Louis and his crew departed, I woke from my own makeshift bed¡ªa tin tub lined with a blanket, just large enough for me¡ªplaced opposite Alan¡¯s bed. Stretching and yawning, I shook off the last traces of sleep and made my way through the little plastic-flapped opening at the bottom of the door.

    As the leader of the scavengers, Louis was always first in line to receive my personal wake-up call. padded down to the Kelping suite, a deck below, where a similar opening allowed me to enter.

    ¡°Wake up!¡± I called, scampering to Louis and Sarah¡¯s closed door. Scratching at the wood, I shouted again, ¡°Wake up, Louis! It¡¯s that time¡ªanother sea adventure awaits!¡±

    Inside, I heard the soft stirrings of movement¡ªslippers sliding on, footsteps shuffling¡ªand the door opened with a click. Sarah stood in the doorway, wrapped in a dark green robe, her face still heavy with sleep but smiling faintly.

    ¡°Page, you¡¯re going to have to help me wake him,¡± she said, moving aside and opening the door wide enough for me to go through. ¡°He¡¯s being stubborn and refuses to budge.¡±

    I didn¡¯t need further prompting. I launched myself onto the bed and landed squarely on Louis¡¯s chest. I licked his face until he stirred awake, groaning and swatting me away half-heartedly.

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he grumbled, stifling a yawn. ¡°I¡¯ll get ready now.¡±

    Sarah laughed softly, crawling back under the covers to plant a lingering kiss on his lips, while I found myself squeezed snugly between the two of them.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m right here, don¡¯t you?¡± I meowed indignantly, though they didn¡¯t seem to care.

    <hr>

    I circled Louis, sprawled face down on the floor, and brushed close enough to lick his cheek and nose. His eyes snapped open as I backed away, watching him suck in a shaky breath before exhaling deeply. Slowly, he raised a hand to scratch me behind my left ear with a familiar, fond touch.

    ¡°I thought I was dreaming,¡± he mumbled, his voice thick with fatigue. ¡°But you¡¯re here, aren¡¯t you, buddy?¡± He groaned, pushing himself upright but swayed dangerously, his knees threatening to buckle. Francis rushed in, gripping his arm firmly and pulling him to his feet just in time.

    Alan appeared moments later from around the corner, her weapon raised and ready. But when her eyes settled on Louis, and she saw Francis helping him to his feet, the tension eased and she lowered her gun.

    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

    Louis gave her a weak grin. ¡°Hey, Alan. Good to see you.¡±

    Alan¡¯s eyes went wide, her jaw slack with disbelief. ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­¡± she began, her voice wavering as she struggled to form the rest of the sentence.

    ¡°Louis?...¡± She breathed.

    ¡°Yeah, it''s me.¡±

    ¡°Just don''t stand there, Officer Alan! Help us over here,¡± ordered Francis.

    Quickly, Alan stepped forward, taking her place on Louis¡¯s other side. Together with Francis, she helped him stay upright as he directed them toward the Laboratory. Inside the room, two bodies lay side by side on the floor. One of them was Quintin, another scavenger.

    I remembered him well¡ªa good man with a wife and several children. Quintin wasn¡¯t much for talking, but he had a quiet kindness about him. He loved watching the sunrise from the rail on the promenade deck and didn¡¯t mind when I joined him. Sometimes, he¡¯d even offer me a small treat, like a few crumbs of dried seaweed.

    Now, here he was. Lifeless. Naked. His body, his tangled beard, even his hair were slick with a strange, viscous slime.

    ¡°Quintin¡­¡± Alan gasped, rushing to his side. She knelt down, pressing her fingers to his neck, listening intently for any faint sign of breath.

    ¡°Is he alive?¡± Francis asked, hovering behind her.

    Alan¡¯s breath trembled as she lowered her head, a quiet, pained ¡°No¡± slipping from her lips. Her hand brushed the side of Quintin''s neck. Her touch lingered over the faint bruises. ¡°It looks like he was choked to death,¡± she said, her voice breaking slightly.

    I lowered my head, a sharp pang lancing through my chest. Goodbye, Quintin, my friend. Rest peacefully. Stepping closer, I pressed my nose gently against his cheek. The cold slime clung to the tip of my nose, its clammy texture sent a chill down my spine

    But as I lingered there, something about this scene began to bother me. Something wasn¡¯t adding up. Why was Quintin covered in slime? What had happened to the rest of the crew? My thoughts turned to Louis. He had survived, yes¡ªbut unlike Quintin, he was clothed and untouched by the strange substance.

    I turned my attention to the other body. It was one of the humanoids. I sniffed its hand and examined the swollen, disfigured face partially peeking out from behind the shattered helmet. Judging by the scorch marks and charred edges, it appeared the helmet had been destroyed by a gun¡¯s beam.

    Although alive, its condition was grave. Each breath came ragged and strained. I flinched as one of its bulging eyes twitched, shifting in my direction. I stood frozen, my limbs gripped by terror. Before I could react, it had its grip on my neck, pulling me toward its open mouth. As I neared, the tentacles slithered from its mouth, reaching for me with an insatiable hunger. But before they could wrap around me, a flash of blue light struck the humanoid. Its hand slackened, falling to the floor.

    I snapped out of my paralysis and stumbled backward, watching as the tentacles pushed out of its mouth, followed by a blob that landed with a wet plop. Franics stomped on the creature, while Alan scooped me up from the floor, holding me in her arms¡ªnot to comfort me, but to restrain me, keeping me in place as if I might unwittingly wander off into the jaws of another peril.

    ¡°What was that thing?¡± Francis asked, his face twisted in disgust.

    Louis dropped into a chair, his exhaustion evident in his labored breathing. ¡°It¡¯s a mutated jellyfish,¡± he said. ¡°Not that it resembles one anymore¡ªit¡¯s more like a blob... or a brain. I call it the sea brain. If one gets inside you, it takes over¡ªyour mind, your body, everything. There¡¯s no way to get it out without killing you.¡±

    Slumping against the chair, Louis reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slender vial. Francis raised a brow, shooting him a questioning look, and Louis responded with a weary smile, ¡°I¡¯ve been without food for days, and this has been the only thing keeping me alive.¡±

    He uncorked the vial and drank its liquid. Almost immediately, a flicker of energy returned to him, and his pallid complexion warmed with a faint hint of color.

    ¡°What am I going to do with you, Page?¡± Alan muttered, her scowl deepening as she tightened her grip around me. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have let you on the boat. From now on, you¡¯re staying with me until we¡¯re safely back home.¡± Her arms were a cage, but my curiosity was restless, eager to break free.

    My eyes wandered across the laboratory, a maze of strange machinery that seemed to hum with mystery. Familiar instruments stood in orderly rows¡ªmicroscopes, hot plates, and beakers and flasks neatly arranged on shelves. They reminded me of the ones I''d seen in Dr. Willis''s lab. It was a small comfort to see something familiar in this alien space. But beyond them lay contraptions unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen. Three large white pods, shaped like chicken eggs, dominated the center of the room. Two of them were tethered to the central pod by slender silver wires, their metallic sheen glinting faintly like threads spun from light.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    But what drew me most were the transparent spheres suspended in mid-air like bubbles, each a prison for creatures of the deep. One sphere shimmered with silvery eels that flashed in and out of view, their bodies catching the light in strange, hypnotic patterns. Another contained squids with multiple eyes and octopuses whose suctions hid jagged-toothed mouths and forked, writhing tongues. Elsewhere, jellyfish and odd-looking fish drifted. Their imposing presence was pulling me in like a magnet.

    Francis moved closer, his steps slow and cautious as he studied the pods'' sleek white surfaces with awe, though there was some fear flickering across his face. His eyes also wandered to the floating spheres. He raised a hand, reaching out toward one.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Louis warned sharply.

    Francis stopped short, startled. ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Your hand will pass through the barrier, but those creatures inside? They¡¯re killers. You¡¯d lose your hand in seconds.¡±

    Alan turned to Louis. ¡°What is all this?¡±

    ¡°This is where they play like gods¨Cthey¡¯re engineering live creatures, mutating them into something else,¡± Louis explained, gesturing to the three pods. ¡°Two creatures go into those pods. Their strongest traits are extracted, and their essence is channeled into the central pod.¡±

    ¡°And then what happens?¡±

    ¡°What comes out is¡­ better. A superior being, built from the best of both.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve witnessed this?¡±

    Louis gave a slow, weary nod, his gaze distant and haunted. ¡°I¡¯ve seen things you wouldn¡¯t believe. The depths of the sea hold a world beyond imagination¡ªstrange, monstrous, and alive.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying there are more of them?¡± Francis pointed to the lifeless humanoid. ¡°Why are their faces like that?¡±

    ¡°Because they¡¯re creatures of the deep sea,¡± Louis explained. ¡°Down there, the pressure holds their bodies together. Up here, without it, they swell and distort. Their suits are what protect them; keep their forms stabilized on the surface.¡±

    ¡°If there are more of them, it¡¯s clear they have a plan for us,¡± said Alan. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is or why, but I already hate it. Whatever they are, they¡¯re not our allies.¡±

    Francis raised an eyebrow at Louis and asked, ¡°So, how did you even end up here? And where''s the rest of the scavenger crew?¡±

    Alan nodded. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d like to know that, too. We''ve been looking out for you for about two years now.  You and the crew were close to being officially declared dead.¡±

    Louis looked as though the air had been knocked out of him. ¡°It¡¯s been that long?¡± he breathed, a flicker of despair crossed his face.

    ¡°Over 700 days since the day you were supposed to return.¡±

    Louis¡¯s hand trembled as he ran it through his hair. His shoulders sagged, his voice quivering. ¡°Sarah and the kids¡­ They must be sick with worry all this time.¡±

    I swallowed hard. Louis couldn¡¯t possibly know what had happened to his family. I wondered if Alan or Francis would be the one to break the news. Maybe now wasn¡¯t the time. But then again, when is it ever the right time to deliver such devastating news?

    Alan¡¯s grip on me tightened, and when I glanced up, I saw her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she asked Louis, ¡°Can you tell us what happened?¡±

    Louis exhaled slowly, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t even know where to begin. So much has happened¡­¡±

    Francis broke the moment with a quick cough, glancing away. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on finding a way back home first. Then you can tell us everything.¡±

    A faint, almost hopeful smile touching Louis¡¯s lips. ¡°Home¡­¡± he repeated. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d make it back.¡±

    My ears perked up and my body went rigid. I heard a noise from above. I listened for it again. Metal doors sliding. Heavy footsteps marching across the metal floor.

    My humans heard the noise too. Louis¡¯s face darkened. He rushed over to a flat rectangular blackstone embedded in a wall and with one touch, it started to glow, showing a map of the upper level of the submarine where there were several green dots heading towards the doors that would lead them down the sloping corridors to the second level. He touched the stone again and the image changed. This time there was a clear image of the beings in their dark blue metallic suits and helmets, marching down the corridors. They were armed and heading towards the Laboratory.

    ¡°We need to take cover,¡± said Francis, searching the laboratory for a place to hide or escape.

    There was an escape! Another door! I wiggled and hissed.

    My ears twitched, and my body tensed as a sound from above reached me. I froze, straining to listen. The metallic scrape of sliding doors. Heavy footsteps clanging on a metal floor.

    My humans heard it too. Louis¡¯s jaw tightened, and he moved quickly to a sleek black stone embedded in the wall. With a single touch, it came to life, glowing as it revealed a map of the upper level of the submarine. Several green dots moved steadily toward the doors that led to the sloping corridors connecting to the second level.

    Louis tapped the stone again, and the display changed. This time, the intruders came into view¡ªfigures clad in gleaming dark blue metallic suits and helmets. They were armed and heading straight for the laboratory.

    ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± he said.

    Francis cursed under his breath and began scanning the room. ¡°We need to find somewhere to hide. Or a way out!¡±

    My eyes caught it first¡ªanother door! I hissed and squirmed in Alan¡¯s grip, desperate to make them understand.

    ¡°Page, stop it!¡± Alan¡¯s voice was strained, her grip firm but loosening. I paid no attention. I hissed again, wriggling with all my strength.

    I''d never dream of hurting a human, desperate times called for desperate measures. There was just no other way. Unleashing my claws, I swiped at her hand, then slashed at her cheek. She flinched, crying out in surprise, her grip loosening just enough for me to slip free.

    I bolted across the room to the door marked with a red line bisecting a yellow triangle. Turning back, I let out a sharp, insistent yowl.

    Over here! This door! Open it now!

    Alan hesitated for only a moment before rushing over to me. Her eyes swept over the door and its surroundings, but no switch or button was in sight. There was only a small, square black stone embedded in the wall.

    The sudden hiss of laser fire pulled our attention. I turned to see Louis crouched over the lifeless humanoid. He had used the gun to sever its hand. The exposed flesh was swollen and sickly pink, glistening as he peeled away the glove. He moved quickly, pressing the ugly hand against the black stone.

    The door responded instantly, sliding open and disappearing into the wall. I went into the room, Alan and Francis just behind me. The door hissed as it slid shut, sealing us inside. But Louis hadn¡¯t followed.

    ¡°Stay here,¡± his muffled voice came through the barrier. ¡°I¡¯ll handle them. Don¡¯t move.¡±

    Francis clenched his jaw, slamming the flat of his fist against the door. ¡°Louis! Damn it, no!¡± Alan also let out a growl of frustration and pounded the door with her fist. ¡°You idiot!¡±

    Ignoring the echo of their shouts, I turned to take in our surroundings and froze, my breath caught in my throat. I turned my attention to the room and froze, my breath catching. On one side, rows of glass tanks were embedded in the walls, each containing the blobs with their long, spindly tentacles.

    But it was the other side of the room that truly made my stomach turn. Pods, also built into the walls, glowed faintly, filled with a clear liquid. Inside them were the missing scavengers¡ªJerry, Dan, Tom, Gina, and Frankie¡ªall suspended, stripped bare and unmoving. Their eyes were closed, their faces serene as they slumbered.

    I padded closer, my nose wrinkling at the sour, chemical tang in the air. One pod, however, was empty. Its door hung slightly ajar, and a puddle of glistening slime had gathered at its base. Slimy footprints trailed across the floor, leading to the door. My mind whirled as the pieces clicked into place. Quintin. The slime. This must have been his pod. Had he fought his way out, or someone released him?

    Doubt stirred within me once more. How had Quintin died? Why were the rest of the crew imprisoned in these pods? And Louis¡­ How could he have survived and escaped the fate that had befallen the others?

    My train of thought was derailed as Francis swore quietly, striding toward the pods. He slammed his fists against the glass, shouting the names of the missing crew. Alan moved quickly from one pod to the next, searching for any means to free them, her frustration growing as she found no mechanism to release them.

    The door reopened, and Louis stepped in, unarmed. Through the doorway, I glimpsed several humanoids standing in the laboratory behind him, their laser guns trained on us.

    Alan and Francis stiffened, raising their weapons in unison. Louis threw up his hands. ¡°Wait! Wait! They¡¯ll let us go,¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Just put the guns down.¡±

    ¡°And you believe them?¡± Francis growled.

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Louis admitted. ¡°But do you really think we can fight them off? Unless you have a better plan, this is our only shot.¡±

    A tense silence followed before Francis exhaled through gritted teeth. He lowered his weapon and placed his weapon on the ground. He glanced at Alan and motioned for her to do the same. Alan¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration evident in the way her fingers tightened around the handle before she let it go and followed suit.

    Arms raised in surrender, my humans made their way out of the laboratory, the humanoids marching behind them, their guns still aimed at them. One of the humanoids reached down, taking hold of me by the scruff of my neck. It started to move toward one of the transparent spheres, intent on adding me to the collection of sea creatures.

    Alan¡¯s voice rang out in protest. ¡°No! He belongs to us!¡± She sprinted toward us as I clawed at the humanoid¡¯s arm, fighting to escape its hold, my fur bristling in alarm.

    It released its hold, and Alan seized the moment, gathering me into her arms just as the humanoid prodded us forward with the barrel of its gun. We were led out of the submarine, climbing back through the hatch we¡¯d entered, and emerged once again into the bright sunlight of the open sea. Nearby, another whale-sized submarine had surfaced next to the one we were standing on.

    The other crew members of NOAH 1, who had been clinging to their capsized vessel earlier, now stood atop the submarine with us, guarded by two of the strange beings, their guns raised in silent threat. Their boat had sunk, forcing them to swim toward the submarine for safety. The sudden appearance of the second submarine and the alien sea beings emerging from it had sent them into a panic. But one of their guards fired a signal flare into the sky, its faint red trail still hanging above us.

    In the distance, a boat was making its way toward us. Dr. Willis stood at the bow, waving in our direction, with a steward steering the boat behind him.

 Chapter 20: Homecoming Farewell

    The watchman up on the crow¡¯s nest was always the first to spot a scavenger¡¯s boat on the horizon. At such a sight, he¡¯d blow a trumpet, its blaring sound a call to celebration. It was a moment of collective joy and relief, signaling the scavengers¡¯ safe return, their success promised by the treasures they carried.

    People would flood to the rails, their cheers mingling with the rush of waves as they cheered and waved eagerly at their returning loved ones. But not this time. No horn sounded. We returned to NOAH 1, silent and deeply shaken. Each of us had sworn to Francis that we would breathe no word of what we had seen.

    If the truth about the humanoids in the deep sea and their technology were to spread, it would ignite chaos across the ship, then to Floating City. The knowledge was too dangerous to share. Francis made it clear¡ªbreaking our silence would not only cause panic but also earn us banishment.

    I couldn''t help but wonder why those creatures had chosen to spare us. They had the power to kill us without a moment¡¯s hesitation and disappear into the depths. What was it that Louis said to them to earn our freedom?

    All eyes on the main deck turned to Louis, his dark hair now hanging in messy waves to his shoulders, his face hidden behind a wild, thick beard. At first, whispers rippled through the crowd¡ª¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± ¡°A drifter?¡± ¡°Or a pirate?¡±¡ªbut as he drew closer, recognition dawned. The whispers fell away, replaced by a stunned silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the sea¡¯s current.

    They watched as Louis dropped to his knees when Sam was wheeled onto the deck. The boy stared at him, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. He didn''t recognize his own father. How could he? He had been so young¡ªbarely six¡ªwhen his father had left. But when Louis said his name, his voice quivering with emotion, Sam¡¯s eyes widened in realization, and he cried out, ¡°Papa!¡±

    Louis pulled the boy into a fierce embrace, his hands trembling as he asked what had happened, why Sam was in a wheelchair. His voice cracked as guilt poured out, blaming himself for not returning home sooner, for failing to prevent whatever tragedy had changed his son¡¯s life.

    His eyes swept the crowd, desperate to find his wife and two other children, his voice breaking as he asked for them. Francis and Dr. Willis exchanged a glance before silently leading him to the chapel. There, lay his answers¡ªtwo lifeless forms wrapped in kelp sheets, waiting to join their mother in the depths. His screams tore through the ship''s corridors.

    When the bodies were carried to the main deck on stretchers, Louis draped himself over them, his arms wrapped tightly around each child. Through the kelp shrouds, he placed a tender kiss on each cheek. It took both Francis and Dr. Willis to gently pry him away, coaxing and pulling him back. The stewards stood by, silent and composed, ready to lower the bodies to the waiting boat below. The vessel would carry them to the open water, where they would join their mother in the depths.

    Louis disappeared into his old suite, where his screams and the thuds of furniture breaking against the walls thundered like a storm within the ship. Meanwhile, Sam was taken back to the infirmary. I sat on the edge of his bed while Alan sat beside him, telling him the tale of Odysseus. Her voice was a calm, steady rhythm, her words trying to draw his attention away from the faint cries echoing down the hallway.

    Though it was a story Sam had heard countless times and never grew tired of, his focus began to slip. He shifted uncomfortably, his mind drifting. Noticing his restlessness, Alan paused, just as she reached the part about Odysseus and his crew entering the Land of the Lotus Eaters, and asked, "Are you okay?"

    ¡°I feel bad here,¡± he said, pressing his hand to his chest. Alan moved to get up, but Sam reached out, grasping her hand. ¡°What I mean is... I feel bad about something.¡±

    Alan''s expression softened as she sat back down. ¡°What is it, Sam?¡± She studied him with a gentle, curious look. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°When I saw Papa, I didn¡¯t recognize him. I mean, I did, but it was like meeting a stranger. I can''t even remember what he used to look like or sound like. It scares me a little... He feels more like a stranger than my Papa.¡±

    Alan''s voice softened with understanding. ¡°That''s understandable. You haven''t seen him in so long, and you were so young when he left. But you''ll get to know him again. He''s home now, Sam.¡±

    Sam nodded slowly, as if absorbing her words, though a trace of doubt lingered in his eyes.

    Alan tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes and a soft smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Hey, guess what I just remembered? I never finished telling you my own Odyssey.¡±

    Sam¡¯s face lit up. He leaned forward, his curiosity reignited. ¡°Oh, yeah! You mentioned living inside a whale or something. I still don''t see how that''s possible.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s possible,¡± Alan replied with a smirk. ¡°But that¡¯s just the beginning. I even fought off a giant octopus¡ªthough I had some help.¡±

    ¡°Who helped you?¡± Sam gasped, his breath caught. ¡°And how did you even end up near an octopus?¡±

    ¡°After my time in the whale, I ended up on this old, abandoned boat drifting aimlessly. No food, no supplies. I had to make do with an old fishing net and a rod. One day, I caught something big. Huge. I could feel the fight in the line as I reeled it in, struggling against its weight. And then I saw it¡­.¡±

    ¡°Saw what?¡± Sam asked, barely above a whisper.

    ¡°A tentacle,¡± Alan said, drawing the word out.

    He shuddered. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°It surged up from the water,¡± Alan went on, her hands motioning upward, ¡°a monstrous thing that blocked the sunlight. I froze. Then it came down, tearing the boat in two like it was paper.¡±

    I glanced up at her with a doubtful look. This story couldn¡¯t possibly be true. It sounded absurd. But then again, after everything I¡¯d witnessed in the laboratory and the nightmare we¡¯d just survived, maybe her story wasn¡¯t so outlandish after all.

    The boy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°How did you survive that?¡±

    Alan¡¯s lips curled into a wry smile. ¡°By sheer luck. A scavenger ship happened to be nearby. Jimmy and Louis were on board.¡±

    ¡°Papa?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Your Papa. But back then, he wasn¡¯t much more than a kid. An apprentice, still figuring things out.¡±

    ¡°I had no idea Jimmy was a scavenger.¡±

    ¡°He was, for a time, until Louis took charge. That day, Jimmy and Louis hauled me out of the water and onto their ship. If it weren¡¯t for them, I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the octopus?¡±

    ¡°Jimmy and the others couldn¡¯t kill it¨Cthat was impossible. But they fought back as best they could, hurling harpoons and firing muskets. It wasn¡¯t about defeating it, just buying enough time for us to get away.¡±

    At that moment, there was a soft knock at the door, and I stood up on all fours, my tail up and swaying side to side as my whiskers tingled and my nose twitched. I smelled something good wafting in the air. The door swung open, and in walked the steward, carrying a tray with food. "Tonight''s supper is fried squid!" he announced with a smile.

    A gentle knock at the door caught my attention, and I rose to all fours, my tail swaying in anticipation. The air carried a smell that made my whiskers quiver and my nose twitch. ¡°I hope you''re hungry,¡± he said with a bright smile, setting the table tray down carefully in front of Sam. ¡°Fried octopus tentacles for supper tonight!¡±

    *****

    With my belly full and satisfied, I padded softly down the corridor, my paws carrying me toward the Kelping family¡¯s suite. The door stood slightly open, allowing a warm glow of a candlelight to seep into the dim passageway.

    I slipped my head through the gap in the door and found Louis slumped on the floor, staring vacantly at the wall ahead. Around him lay the wreckage of the room¡ªchairs with splintered legs, an overturned table, shattered fragments of vases scattered across the floor, and curtains torn from their rails.

    Bloodshot and brimming with tears, his eyes met mine, and for a moment, a faint smile ghosted across his face before fading as quickly as it had appeared. He stretched out a hand, a quiet invitation.

    ¡°Hey, Page,¡± he said softly. ¡°I could really use a friend right now.¡±

    I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the destruction around us, but the gentleness in his voice pulled me in. Slowly, I crept closer. When his hand found that perfect spot behind my ear, my resistance melted away. A deep purr welled up within me as I leaned against his leg. His arms lifted me gently, and I felt his scruffy chin press against the top of my head as he held me tightly, his muffled sobs trembling through his embrace.

    Time blurred as we stayed there, too long for me to track. Finally, he got up on his feet, but his grip on me remained firm. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on something on the floor. He walked over to it, and I stiffened when I saw what he was picking up¡ª a black stone. Just like the one Alan had found. Why did he have that? Without a word, he slipped it into his pocket and we left the room.

    Louis made his way toward the infirmary, where Sam lay sleeping. Gently, he placed me on the bed before pulling up a chair beside Sam, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. I settled onto Sam¡¯s lap, careful not to disturb his sleep, but Sam stirred, blinking as he awoke. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and when they landed on his father, his brow furrowed in confusion.

    ¡°Papa?¡± he whispered.

    Louis swallowed hard, taking Sam¡¯s hand in his. ¡°Sam, my boy... my only boy now.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to take me back to my room?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. I need to speak with the head steward about finding a more suitable suite for us.¡±

    ¡°Alright... I don¡¯t want to stay there anymore. I think it would be too hard without¡­¡± His voice cracked, the tears threatening to fall but he wiped at his eyes.  ¡°¡­without Mom, Joe, and Anne.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Papa¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Sam?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re home now,¡± Sam said, full of emotion. ¡°I thought I¡¯d lost everyone, and I¡¯d be all alone. I mean, there¡¯s Alan and the captain, but it¡¯s just not the same¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here now, and I won¡¯t be going away anymore,¡± Louis reassured him.

    A small smile tugged at the corners of Sam¡¯s lips. ¡°Really? You promise?¡±

    Louis nodded. ¡°I think someone else could take over as the commanding scavenger. The captain would understand. I¡¯ll find other duties on the ship, so I don¡¯t have to leave again.¡±

    ¡°Or we could live in Floating City!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d like that? To live in a city on the water?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! We could live in Sea Green. I hear that¡¯s where the animals like to live, or maybe live in Little Eden, and we could garden and eat all the food we grow there.¡±

    My ears perked up at the mention of Little Eden. I¡¯d often imagined spending my twilight years there, happily roaming the garden paths with my brother, Ziggy. The thought warmed me as I padded closer to Sam, who pulled me into a gentle hug and nuzzled the top of my head with his chin.

    ¡°And Page can come live with us,¡± he added with a hopeful smile.

    Louis¡¯s hand moved slowly through my fur as he shook his head. ¡°He could, but I think he¡¯d rather stay here, looking after Alan and the others.¡± His voice softened, trailing off as his hand stilled. His eyes grew distant, as though his thoughts had drifted somewhere far away.

    ¡°Sam¡­¡±

    Sam tilted his head, curious. ¡°Yes, Papa?¡±

    ¡°I can make you walk again.¡±

    Sam blinked, stunned. His lips parted in surprise. ¡°But Dr. Willis said¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know what he said,¡± Louis interrupted gently. He said the poison left your legs paralyzed, that you¡¯d never walk again. But there¡¯s something he doesn¡¯t know¡ªsomething I¡¯ve seen out there.¡±

    ¡°Out there? What¡¯s out there?¡±

    ¡°A different world. A world where we could have a better life.¡±

 Chapter 21: No Animals Allowed

    Rumors of deep-sea humanoids leaked from the loose lips of a NOAH 1 steward who¡¯d had too much to drink one evening at a Floating City bar. It didn¡¯t spark the immediate chaos Francis had feared, but a thick, heavy unease descended over the city and ships alike.

    People didn¡¯t outwardly panic. There was no screaming or running, but paranoia took root. People glanced over their shoulders. They were searching, always searching, for signs of the creatures that might be stalking them.

    I found it amusing, in a way, that the humans were now just awakening to the possibility that another kind of their species existed. I wondered why they didn¡¯t seem to notice it when the Masked Stranger had strolled openly among them. Dressed like an emissary from some alien world, he went unnoticed, unquestioned.

    I suppose it didn¡¯t matter to them¡ªhis origins, his appearance, his very nature. He could¡¯ve been a colossal octopus or a loquacious squid walking among them, they didn¡¯t care. Why? Because he offered them relief¡ªcures for their illnesses, remedies for their pain. And some of those so-called cures, I was almost certain, carried an opium-like haze of bliss. When people want something badly enough, they¡¯re willing to turn a blind eye to just about anything else.

    But then again, humans¡ªah, humans. In all my cat years, I¡¯ve found them to be wonderfully, hopelessly oblivious. They are blind in a way few creatures are. They don¡¯t see what¡¯s right in front of them. Not until the world forces them to.

    The story, inevitably, made its way to the ears of Floating City¡¯s Council Members. They wasted no time in sending a messenger to Francis, commanding his presence to recount the full details of what had occurred.

    Though NOAH 1 prided itself as an independent state, its status didn¡¯t shield it from the authority of Floating City¡¯s Council, much to Francis¡¯s annoyance. Begrudgingly, Francis decided to answer the Council¡¯s summons. He ordered Alan and Louis to join him and recount their side of the events. Louis agreed, but his choice didn¡¯t sit well with Sam, who reminded his father of the promise never to leave the ship again¡ªunless Sam could go too. In the end, Louis gave in and brought the boy along. And me? I wasn¡¯t about to stay behind and just sit idly by.

    What would Louis tell the Council? What did he truly know about the sea humanoids? And that black stone¡­ Where did it come from? Was it given to him, or had he stumbled upon it? Did he even understand what it was? The questions swirled in my mind, multiplying faster than I could make sense of them. Thinking about it all too long felt like standing in a whirlpool, and I had to shake myself free before I drowned in it.

    The Council Hall was the grandest structure in Floating City, its imposing columns and steps made from a hodgepodge of metal, plastic, and concrete.

    We stepped into a foyer that felt like the heart of the sun. Rays of golden light filtered through a glass dome above, wrapping the circular room in warmth.

    A guard approached us. His steel spear towered above him, gleaming under the light. He wore a dark green uniform that shined like oiled leather and a metal helmet fastened tightly over his head.

    ¡°Ah, Mr. Francis and crew,¡± he said, nodding at Francis.

    ¡°It¡¯s Captain Francis,¡± Francis corrected sharply.

    ¡°Right, Captain. This way, please.¡± The guard turned on his heel and led us down a lengthy hallway, where another set of double doors awaited.

    As the doors swung open and we stepped across the threshold, a stout, round man marched toward Francis, his chest puffed out and chin held high. His black robe flowed with his movements, and a conical green hat with a flat top crowned his head, its long yellow tassel swaying with each step like a pendulum. He could only be one of the seven Councilmen.

    He stopped a few paces away, his nose twitching in irritation. A moment later, he erupted in a loud, grating sneeze that shook his small frame. Recovering quickly, he glared at me with sharp, disdainful eyes, his expression as cold as stone.

    Turning to the captain, he spoke with icy authority.

    ¡°No animals allowed in the Hearing Room,¡± he declared curtly, citing a strict policy driven by his acute allergy.

    The others behind him¡ªsix council members in all¡ªnodded in agreement, some suggesting the need to draft a formal policy to prohibit creatures from sullying such a majestic space.

    I glanced up from Alan to Louis, then over to Francis and Sam. The boy stared up at his father, his eyes brimming with quiet desperation.

    ¡°Are you sure he can¡¯t stay?¡±

    Before Louis could even draw a breath to answer, the guard barked his response, louder now, as if to leave no room for debate. ¡°No animals allowed. That¡¯s the rule.¡±

    Francis gave a terse nod and motioned for Alan to see the task through.

    ¡°Sorry, Page,¡± Alan apologized, gently steering me back out into the hallway. ¡°You¡¯ll have to wait out here until we¡¯re done.¡±

    Absurd! Unbelievable! Outrageous! Me, unfit for such a ¡°majestic¡± place? This was discrimination, plain and simple! Floating City wasn¡¯t even that grand¡ªhardly the pearl of the sea it pretended to be. More like a tarnished coin.

    I clawed at the doors as they slammed shut in my face. I¡¯d find a way in, no matter what; they couldn¡¯t keep me out. There was always a way. Returning to the foyer, I spotted a flock of seagulls perched on the steps of the grand staircase. They had likely found their way inside through a missing panel in the glass dome above. Their keen eyes followed my every move, glinting with a blend of curiosity and sly amusement. Soft whispers and mocking laughter fluttered through the air.

    ¡°Ah, land animals,¡± one said, ¡°always sticking their noses where they don¡¯t belong.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand their obsession with humans,¡± said another. ¡°Humans toss a few scraps, sure, but their kindness never lasts. Eventually, they show their true colors¡ªcruel, every last one of them.¡±

    ¡°Too right! They¡¯re vicious underneath; cruel at heart. Just look at what happened to that poor dog¡ª¡±

    At the mention of a dog, I spun around and demanded to know, ¡°What dog? What happened?¡±

    The first gull fluffed its feathers nonchalantly. ¡°Not sure. Heard the Warden picked it up from the vet. Something about an infection... Poor thing¡¯s set to be put down.¡±

    Could it be? No, of course not. Lee must be fine¡ªI was sure of it. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°OUT! Away with you, blasted birds!¡± The guard charged up the stone steps, brandishing his spear at the seagulls. The startled birds squawked indignantly and flapped their wings, retreating through the gaping hole in the glass dome above. One, however, left a damp, white farewell that splattered right on the guard¡¯s helmet.

    ¡°Damn birds,¡± he muttered through clenched teeth, glaring upward as if they could still hear him, and then swiping at the mess in frustration.

    Before he could recover his composure, a sudden, ear-splitting scream cut through the moment, and a frantic woman descended the stairs in a flurry of skirts and panic.

    ¡°Rats!¡± she cried out, breathless. ¡°There are rats up there!¡±

    ¡°Rats?¡± the guard repeated, his expression pinched with disbelief.

    ¡°Yes, rats! Do something about it!¡±

    His glare snapped to me. The sharp tip of his spear leveled inches from my face.

    ¡°Make yourself useful, cat! You¡¯re lucky I haven¡¯t already thrown you out on your tail.¡±

    I let out a sharp hiss in his direction, my tail flicking with indignation as I turned my back on him and padded up the stairs. I prowled along the hallway, sniffing the floor, when a blur of gray and pink darted around the corner, followed closely by a streak of brown fur. My whiskers tingled, and my nose twitched at an all-too-familiar scent. I bolted after it, rounding the corner.

    A flash of pink¡ªa tail¡ªvanished through an open door, and I followed quickly. The room beyond was crammed with tall file cabinets, scattered chairs and furniture, overstuffed bookshelves, marble statuettes, and lifeless head busts staring blankly into the dimness. But my eyes were drawn to a dusty sofa under which a tight cluster of rats had gathered.

    Among the scurrying rodents, Flynn was calmly directing a pair of rats hauling a long, black tubular instrument with a gleaming silver disc affixed to one end. Others trailed behind, wires draped over their shoulders, all squeezing through an opening beneath a lifted floorboard plank.

    ¡°P-p-predator!¡± one rat shrieked, freezing mid-step and pointing a trembling claw at me. Its beady eyes bulged with terror. Every rat turned to stare, black eyes wide.

    A ripple of fear passed through them, and then pandemonium broke loose. They shrieked, claws scrambled against the floor, and the narrow opening in the loose floorboard became a bottleneck of fleeing bodies.

    Flynn didn¡¯t flinch. His arms raised in an attempt to steady them. ¡°Be calm!¡± he commanded, but his voice barely cut through the frenzied shrieking. His words were lost in the rising tide of hysteria.

    He clenched his jaw, inhaled deeply, and roared, ¡°I SAID BE CALM!¡±

    The effect was immediate. The rats froze, their squeals fading into a tense silence. But their tiny paws quivered, their fur bristling, and their whiskers twitched with the tremors of fear still coursing through them.

    Flynn lowered his arms and clapped his hands together sharply.

    ¡°Alright, alright. Everyone¡¯s calm,¡± he said, glancing at his rattled companions before turning his gaze back to me. ¡°So, you came back! What for, this time?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s an important meeting happening in the Hearing Room,¡± I replied. ¡°And I need to get inside. One of the humans from my ship, NOAH 1, has an extraordinary story to share. It could determine the future for all of us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not already in there with your humans.¡±

    I let out an irritated sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve been turned away. Non-humans, apparently, aren¡¯t allowed. But you¡ªyou and your rats¡ª what exactly are you up to with this stuff?¡±

    I pointed at the rats¡¯ equipment: black tubes capped with silver discs and a tangle of wires in bright red, yellow, blue, and white.

    ¡°You arrived just in time,¡± said Flynn. ¡°Follow me.¡±

    The other rats exchanged wary glances but stayed silent, stepping aside to let Flynn pass through the opening beneath the lifted floorboard. I crouched low, squeezing through the narrow gap to follow him. A soft orange glow illuminated the space, emanating from a lightbulb containing tiny jellyfish that pulsed with light. Wires snaked along the cramped floor, and the ceiling forced me to crawl.

    At the far end, Flynn and several rats knelt beside a bright green box with a metal grate, its back panel removed to reveal a tangle of wires and exposed green and copper circuits.

    ¡°We¡¯re right above the Hearing Room,¡± he explained, his fingers nimbly weaving through the tangled wires. ¡°This is where we listen in on the city¡¯s critical affairs and pass the messages along to the Wise Keepers. We¡¯re no strangers to eavesdropping, but the Council Hall is special. It¡¯s not the usual rumors or idle chatter at a bar¡ªwords said here are more official.¡±

    The rats were hard at work. I could hear faint, hurried scratches in the distance¡ªalong the walls, overhead, weaving through the unseen spaces around us.

    As Flynn tinkered with the wires, a thought struck me. It had only been a few days since he lost two of his brothers, yet here he was, working as though nothing had happened.

    ¡°What¡¯s been going on since¡­?¡± I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. ¡°Since we last saw each other?¡± I didn¡¯t dare say more.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been keeping myself busy,¡± he replied, his eyes fixed on the task as another rat handed him a straightened paper clip. ¡°I didn¡¯t have many patients to tend to today, so I figured I¡¯d drop by and lend a hand with the eavesdropping.¡±

    ¡°Busy is good¡­ it helps with coping¡ª¡±

    ¡°Coping?¡± He scoffed softly, still not looking up. ¡°This isn¡¯t about coping. It¡¯s just survival. Life out here doesn¡¯t give you much time to dwell. Death¡¯s always right behind us, waiting for the smallest mistake.¡± He paused, his gaze distant, before releasing a heavy sigh.

    He snapped out of his reverie as another rat approached, reporting briskly that the wires and stethoscopes had been set up within the walls.

    ¡°The only task left is connecting the last wires to the green box and the lightbulb,¡± the rat said, glancing at the equipment.

    Flynn rubbed his hands together, his face set with determination. The team got to work, carefully positioning a long wire that extended through the opened floorboard and connecting it to the green box. Flynn, now wearing a pair of dark green gloves, wrapped a copper wire around the metal base of the lightbulb before securing it to the box.

    I watched them work with growing curiosity, captivated by the rats¡¯ ability to manipulate wires and machinery with a skill that seemed almost human.

    ¡°You never quite answered me earlier,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the purpose of all this? What are you up to?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± Flynn replied with a sly grin. ¡°Well, not see, but hear.¡±

    With that, he pressed a button on the green box. At first, there was nothing but silence. The tiny jellyfish inside the lightbulb began to glow brighter, shifting from a soft orange to a vivid yellow. Then, a crackling sound came through the metal grate of the box. It was faint and indistinct at first. Footsteps, papers rustling, and muted voices. Flynn adjusted the wires carefully, and slowly the sounds sharpened, coalescing into words. And then, I heard it¡ªclear as day¨Ca single voice breaking through the static. It was Captain Francis.

    ¡°There¡¯s someone here from my ship,¡± Francis said, his voice carrying across the chamber, ¡°who has returned after years of absence. He¡¯s the only surviving member of my scavengers and the only one who knows what these creatures are and what they¡¯re capable of.¡±

    ¡°And who might that be?¡± came a voice, deep and commanding, reverberating through the chamber.

    ¡°Louis Kelping, Councilor,¡± Francis replied. ¡°Three years ago, he led a team of scavengers on a mission. It was meant to last six months, but they never returned. Until now. And Louis¡­ he¡¯s the only one who made it back.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the others?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯re alive or dead. What I saw¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let Mr. Kelping speak for himself,¡± another Councilor interrupted.

    ¡°Go on. Tell them everything¡ªwhat you¡¯ve seen, what you¡¯ve been through.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s been so much that has happened¡­¡± Louis said. ¡°I don¡¯t know where to start.¡±

    A Councilor¡¯s voice broke through, cold and impatient. ¡°The beginning, of course! Start with the day you left NOAH 1.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do my best to recall that day and everything that followed.¡±

 Chapter 22: Like a fist to the gut

    ¡°We were up before dawn,¡± Louis began. ¡°The ship was still and quiet, everyone else fast asleep. The only other soul awake besides my crew and me was Gunther, who was up early and busy preparing our breakfast. We all met in the mess hall¡ª¡±

    The transmission abruptly cut off.  A disgruntled chorus of squeaks followed, as a rat tripped over a tangled cluster of wires, yanking several free from the green box in its panic. Flynn let out a weary sigh, crouched down, and gently untangled the wires from the rat¡¯s foot and tail before returning to his task of reconnecting them.

    As Flynn worked, my mind wandered back to that morning when Louis''s crew departed. Louis had risen early, kissed his wife goodbye, and paused by his children¡¯s rooms to watch them sleep. In the mess hall, Gunther had laid out a humble breakfast¡ªgrilled mackerel, hardtack, and mugs of steaming water. Under the table, I waited for scraps to fall, perhaps a piece of fish, a crumb of cracker for me to nibble on. Above me, Louis was a bundle of nerves. He sat jittery, his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation, while his crew was calm, joking and laughing over their meal.

    It was odd, now that I thought about it. Why had he been so nervous? I didn¡¯t understand it then. Louis had led expeditions time and again, and they almost always ended the same¡ªwith him and his crew returning, triumphant and burdened with spoils from the old world, essential for life aboard our ship.

    But that morning, something was different. He sat hunched over his mug, lost in thought, his leg bouncing nervously, his body tensed up as if he were bracing for a coming storm. I hadn¡¯t dwelled on it then. My attention was elsewhere. Quintin had dropped a flake of mackerel, and I scrambled to claim it, leaving all other curiosities behind.

    Louis was the first to push back from the table, his meal barely touched. I climbed onto the table as soon as he stood, my eyes wide and pleading. I leapt onto the table, looking up at him, pleading silently for his leftovers. He offered a brief scratch behind my ears before nodding to the others.

    The fish was mine, and I ate as though it was my last meal. Food was precious, a sacred thing, and I couldn¡¯t let it go to waste.

    What else happened that day? I couldn¡¯t recall. All I remembered was curling up in my basket in Alan¡¯s quarters, my belly warm and full.

    EEEE¨CYEE OOOOOOO WWW!

    A sharp, grating scream that made my fur stand on end. I buried my head beneath my paws, pressing hard against my ears to block it out. Around me, the other rats scattered in panic, retreating from the green box. Some darted through the floorboard opening.

    Flynn stumbled backward, his face pale, one hand clutching his chest as though the noise had struck him like a physical blow. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he wheezed, his voice shaky. ¡°It should be working now.¡±

    The box hissed and crackled, then steadied. Louis¡¯s voice broke through, sharp and clear.

    ¡°¨Cthought it was a whale,¡± he said. ¡°But as we got closer, it became clear that it wasn¡¯t. This thing was faster than a whale, and it circled the boat like it was hunting us. The waves it created were enormous, crashing against us as if trying to tip us over. Then it surfaced. We were right on top of it¡ªa thing as massive as a sandy island. And that¡¯s when we realized that it was no creature¡­ It was like a ship, an underwater ship. And then they appeared.¡±

    ¡°Do you mean the sea humanoids?¡± a Councilor interjected.

    ¡°There were three of them. One came straight for us, holding some kind of weapon.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡±

    Louis hesitated. ¡°... I don¡¯t remember.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, nothing much after that. It all blurred into a waking nightmare. Sometimes I¡¯d wake to blinding white lights, and then the pain would start. So much pain. I could feel them cutting me open; my whole body felt like it was on fire. I didn¡¯t know what they were trying to do¡ªor why they were doing it. After that, everything faded in and out.

    ¡°The next time I woke up, I was in some kind of tank. The liquid inside was amber-colored, thick, and suffocating. I couldn¡¯t move¡ªcouldn¡¯t even breathe on my own. There was a tube in my throat doing it for me. Then suddenly, the tank opened, and I fell out. I hit the floor, completely naked and covered in thick, slimy goo.¡±

    ¡°What about your crew? Were they with you?¡±

    ¡°They were in separate tanks. I couldn¡¯t get them out. I couldn¡¯t figure out how to release them. Then I noticed an empty tank. Whoever had been in it was already gone. Before I could piece it together, the doors slid open, and one of the sea humanoids entered. Right behind him was Quintin, still dressed in his own clothes.¡±

    ¡°Quintin?¡±

    ¡°My trusted crew officer.¡±

    ¡°So, he was with them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and not as a prisoner. He walked in like he belonged there, like he knew them. I could see it in the way he spoke to them.¡±

    ¡°They speak our language?¡±

    ¡°They do. They must have been studying us for a long time¡ªprobably since even before the Great Wrath.¡±

    I tilted my head, my ears twitching with doubt. Quintin? With the sea humanoids? No, something didn¡¯t add up. Louis¡¯s story felt off¡ªlike pieces of a puzzle forced together in haste. His words twisted through my mind, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was holding something back.

    ¡°Mr. Kelping,¡± the Councilor said, ¡°do you believe Quintin was working for these beings? Do they pose a threat to us?¡±

    ¡°A threat?¡± Louis repeated. ¡°I¡­ suppose any species more advanced than us might seem threatening.¡±

    ¡°But are they?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ they could be an enemy,¡± he said, pausing briefly before adding, ¡°or a potential ally. A friend, even.¡±

    ¡°After everything they did to you? What makes you think they won¡¯t do worse to us?¡±

    ¡°They will.¡±

    ¡°Then they are a threat!¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Kelping, enough ambiguity. Give us a straight answer!¡±

    ¡°Indeed!¡± Another Councilor interjected, their frustration boiling over. ¡°Stop dodging our questions!¡±

    ¡°What they did wasn¡¯t torture,¡± said Louis. ¡°It was¡­ treatment. They gave me nutrients my body was starving for. I felt stronger. Better.¡±

    ¡°And you think they have good intentions?¡±

    ¡°I think that we shouldn¡¯t fear them.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Because,¡± Louis said, gravely, ¡°look at what we¡¯ve become. The Great Wrath has left us with nothing. No medicine, no resources¡ªjust the waste of a world we destroyed. Maybe these beings¡­ maybe they¡¯re here to help us.¡±

    The Hearing Hall exploded into a flurry of gasps and whispered exchanges; the rats too were shocked. A Councilor slammed his hand on the table, his voice rising above the noise.

    The hall became still. ¡°Mr. Kelping,¡± the Councilor continued, ¡°what did you see on this underwater ship? How advanced are they?¡±

    ¡°What I saw¡­¡± Louis took a shaky breath. ¡°It¡¯s beyond anything you could conceive. Machines that¡­ that could change you. Fix you. Take what¡¯s broken and make it whole again.¡±

    The Councilor pressed on. ¡°Did you see where more of their kind lived?¡±

    A long pause followed. The seconds stretched painfully long until the Councilor¡¯s patience frayed. ¡°Well? Answer the question!¡± he barked, irritation creeping into his voice.

    Louis finally responded, ¡°No, I never left their ship. But there was¡­ an altercation. And I fought back¡ªalone.¡±

    Flynn tilted his head, one eyebrow raised in question at me. ¡°You seem to know something,¡± he said.

    I paused, rubbing a paw along my chin as the vivid memories of that submarine flashed through my mind. The pieces weren¡¯t fitting together.

    ¡°He¡¯s not telling the truth,¡± I said at last.

    Flynn leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Oh? And how do you figure that?¡±

    ¡°Because I was there. On that submarine.¡±

    ¡°Submarine?¡± he repeated.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I affirmed. ¡°That underwater ship¡ªit¡¯s called a submarine. That¡¯s what Alan called it. And I¡¯ve heard Jimmy talk about them before.¡±

    The rats around us exchanged nervous glances before inching closer, their whiskers twitching, their dark eyes glinting with intrigue. ¡°What did you see on the submarine?¡± one of them asked, almost whispering.

    ¡°Yes, tell us,¡± Flynn pressed. ¡°The blob is tearing through my species, and things are worse than you realize and we¡¯re running out of time. The Wise Keepers are meeting to decide what comes next¡ªour survival depends on it. Anything you know, Page, anything at all, might help.¡±

    His words caught me off guard. ¡°What kind of decision?¡± I asked.

    ¡°To leave the city. To risk everything on the slim hope of finding land elsewhere. So, tell us¡ªwhat did you see on that submarine?¡±

    I took a moment, drawing a deep breath before answering. ¡°Louis was right about one thing: the submarine was enormous, like nothing I¡¯d ever seen before. But Louis''s story doesn''t add up to what I saw inside. There was an empty tank, and Quintin¡­ Quintin was dead. His body was bare, covered in slime. And Louis? His hair and beard had grown out. He didn¡¯t look like a prisoner at all. And he spoke to those sea humanoids. I don''t know what he had told them, but they let us go.¡±

    And then suddenly a realization slammed into me like a fist to the gut. It left me breathless. God, I felt sick. The feeling was worse than a stubborn hairball caught in my throat, worse than anything I¡¯d ever felt before.

    Louis¡­ the truth was that he was the sea humanoids¡¯ contact on the surface. He was with them.

    But why? Did he betray his crew, lure them into a trap? What kind of bargain had he struck with those creatures? How long has this been going on? And how had he made contact in the first place?

    Then, Dr. Willis¡¯s story came back to me. He¡¯d spoken of a decanter Louis had found on a scavenger hunt deep within a sea cave with an air pocket. The chamber had been filled with perfectly preserved pottery and silverware. Inside the decanter had been a viscous, slimy substance. Dr. Willis, ever the scientist, had examined it under a microscope and identified it as slime mold. It thrived on decay. Rotting logs, tree bark, soil.

    But it wasn¡¯t the slime mold that stuck out to me¡ªit was the realization that Louis hadn¡¯t stumbled upon those treasures by chance.

    No, he¡¯d been there. To their world. To the place where the sea humanoids lived.

    And likely, that was where he¡¯d been all those years, while his crew was being tortured, while the humanoids experimented not just on them, but on the rats of Floating City as well.

    I had to warn Alan and Francis. They needed to know Louis was the sea humanoids¡¯ contact on the surface. But how? How do I tell them without risking everything? Without alerting Louis? Or had they already figured out the truth themselves? No, absolutely not. For all my love and respect for them, humans are as blind and stubborn as sea cucumbers when it comes to seeing what¡¯s right in front of them.

    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Flynn asked.

    I didn¡¯t have time to answer. a rat squeezed through the opening, his tiny frame shaking, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. ¡°The Warden!¡± he stammered, wide-eyed. ¡°That damn guard called him. They¡¯re doing a full sweep! They¡¯ve already caught Rogers and Andy.¡±

    Above us, footsteps thudded across the floor, each heavy step rattling the floorboards.

    Then came a gruff voice. ¡°You¡¯re sure you saw the rats come in here?¡±

    ¡°The Warden!¡± a rat squeaked in panic. Flynn reacted instantly, clamping a hand over their mouth.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± he whispered to them but also looking at me and the others too, quietly pleading for us to do the same.

    We froze. Breathless, motionless, we prayed they wouldn¡¯t notice the loose floorboard beneath the sofa.

    ¡°Yes, yes, many of them ran in here,¡± said another voice¡ªit was the guard from earlier.

    ¡°What about the cat?¡±

    ¡°Cat? I haven¡¯t seen it. I sent it up here to deal with the rats, but all I hear is scratching in the walls. What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to trap them,¡± the Warden growled, ¡°then have Dr. Starkey examine the lot.¡±

    ¡°Examine them? For what?¡±

    ¡°Infection,¡± the Warden replied. ¡°Some of the rats have been carrying a parasite. They¡¯ll need to be cleared before they¡¯re sold to the vendors.¡±

    One of the rats, jittery with nerves, darted toward the opening. There was a sharp metallic snap! And a panicked squeal.

    ¡°Got one!¡± the guard¡¯s voice rang out.

    ¡°Where did it come from?¡± the Warden demanded.

    ¡°Right under that sofa over there.¡±

    Above us, We heard the scrape of furniture as the sofa was dragged aside. The loose floorboard would be lifted any moment now. If I went first, I could buy Flynn and his rats a chance to escape. Suddenly, a pair of hands tore the floorboard free, light flooding our hideout. I yowled, slashing at the intruding hand with my claws.

    ¡°God dammit! Stupid cat!¡± the Warden roared, stumbling back, his wiry frame twisting as I lunged forward and drove my claws deep into his leg. His shiny, hairless head glistened with sweat as he cursed and tried to shake me off, but I didn¡¯t let go. From the corner of my eye, I saw Flynn and the others come out through the opening.

    But, of course, Flynn couldn¡¯t just run and leave behind one of his kind. He skidded to a halt in front of the metal cage, where a rat was still trapped. His little hands worked the lock using a straightened wire coil to pop it open.

    The others swarmed the guard, running between his legs in circles. The guard growled. His frustration was boiling over as he swung his spear. At first, his strikes hit only the floor, each miss sounded with a dull thud again and again, until, with a sickening crunch, it finally struck flesh and bone. A rat¡¯s anguished scream followed.

    But the tide turned. In a flash, another rat took its chance. It climbed the guard¡¯s body with astonishing speed. It reached his chest in a heartbeat, and before he could react, sank its teeth into his nose with a savage bite. Blood sprayed, and the guard¡¯s scream drowned out everything else. The spear clattered to the floor.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go! Move!¡± Flynn yelled. At last, the cage door flew open and the rat inside hurried out. The others rushed forward scrambling for freedom out the door. I was right behind them, almost reaching the threshold when a sharp tug stopped me cold. Pain shot through my tail. I whirled around, hissing. The Warden had me.

    I swiped at him, claws raking air, but he yanked me upward. I dangled there, upside down, my body thrashing. I clawed at his arm, hissed like a wild thing, but he didn¡¯t let go.

    Then, a gray blur shot across the room. Flynn. He leapt onto the Warden¡¯s arm and scrambled up to his face, gripping it like a vice. He bared his teeth and bit down hard on the Warden¡¯s cheek. The man howled staggering back as Flynn held fast.

    The Warden¡¯s grip slipped, and I dropped to the floor, landing awkwardly but steadying myself on all fours. Flynn sprang from the Warden¡¯s shoulder and landed nimbly beside me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t just sit there¡ªrun!¡± he said, already dashing toward the door.

    I didn¡¯t need to be told twice. I followed, my paws barely keeping up with his breakneck speed. But behind us came the crash of boots and furious shouts. They were closing in.

    I sprinted down the hallway then turned a sharp corner. The stairs appeared ahead, and I flew down them, taking two steps at a time. At the bottom, I spotted them¡ªFrancis, Louis, Sam, and Alan. Sam¡¯s face lit up the instant our eyes met.

    ¡°Page!¡± his voice rang with pure happiness.

    Behind me, I felt the Warden¡¯s fingers swipe at my tail, so close it made my fur bristle. I pushed off the final step with everything I had, springing into the air before landing safely in Sam¡¯s waiting arms.

 Chapter 23: Prepare for our arrival

    I couldn¡¯t stand looking at Louis anymore. He still had his face, his voice, the shape of the man I once knew¡ªbut that was all. The Louis I had trusted, the Louis I had sailed beside, was gone. He was replaced by a stranger. And there he sat, among the residents of NOAH 1 in the mess hall, his teeth grinding against a piece of hardtack as though nothing had changed. But everything had.

    The trip back to NOAH 1 had been tense. The City Council decided¡ªstay vigilant, but take no action. Do not alarm the public. I saw the frustration in Alan¡¯s clenched jaw, the disbelief in Captain Francis¡¯s eyes. This was not what they had expected.

    But Louis¡­ he looked relieved. Too calm. Too quiet about the decision. Whenever Francis pressed him with questions, demanding to know what he was hiding, Louis stayed calm. Cool and unbothered, he always had the same answer.

    ¡°There''s nothing to worry about," he would say, as if the matter was settled and there was nothing more he could add. He assured him that the world wasn''t on the brink of destruction again. Instead, he spoke of a new world, a fresh start. And then, just as quickly, he would close the conversation, offering no more words, no more clarity.

    ¡°Looks like Page is waiting for a treat,¡± Gunther said with a chuckle, cradling a steaming mug. He sat across from Louis, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

    Louis stopped mid-chew, glancing at me. I sat on the table, glaring. Finally, he notices.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re hungry," he said. "It was a long trip back from Floating City.¡± Setting aside his biscuit, he speared a piece of mackerel and dangled it in front of me.

    Hissing, I batted it away with a sharp slap.

    Louis''s hand jerked back. The fork slipped from his fingers, striking the table with a sharp clang before tumbling to the floor.

    Gunther¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Page! What¡¯s wrong with you? You never turn down food.¡±

    Food had never been something I refused¡ªuntil now. This was different. This was betrayal plated and served. I couldn''t stomach the thought of eating something offered by a treasonous trout, and I wouldn''t even take the smallest bite. Just looking at him, being near him, and hearing him speak as if all was well soured my appetite.

    ¡°I guess he¡¯s had his fill already,¡± Louis said, pushing his plate aside. ¡°And me as well.¡±

    Gunther¡¯s frown deepened as he glanced down at Louis¡¯s mostly untouched meal.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? You didn¡¯t even touch your plate. Want me to give it to Page for later?¡±

    Louis shrugged, his voice distant. ¡°I just haven¡¯t felt like eating since¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± Gunther¡¯s voice softened. ¡°But you¡¯ve still got Sam, remember?¡±

    Louis gave a small nod. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ve still got my boy.¡± And then, clearing his throat, he said, ¡°By the way, do you have some¡­¡± He hesitated, glancing around, voice dropping to a whisper, so only Gunther could hear, ¡°Something good to drink?¡±

    The head cook of NOAH 1 nodded. His knowing smile was all the answer Louis seemed to need. Later, as they cleared the table, he motioned for Louis to follow him into the kitchen.

    A green glass bottle passed between them. Louis took it without a word. He tucked it under his jacket, kept his head down, and left without a word.

    Since we¡¯d been back on the ship, I hadn¡¯t let him out of my sight. Not that I wanted to look at him. I followed him from the mess hall to his suite. At the door, I watched him tuck Sam into bed. Once the boy was asleep, Louis paced the stripped-down living room, where most of the wreckage from his earlier outburst had already been cleared away. Then he stopped, slumped into the last remaining chair, and popped the cork on the bottle. He took a drink, then reached into his jacket pocket. Out came the black stone.

    His eyes found mine. How dare he look at me!  I glared back, waiting for his next move.

    ¡°I should¡¯ve come back sooner,¡± he admitted, his words dripping with regret. ¡°I should¡¯ve fought harder. But everything I did¡ªI did for the greater good. Everyone will understand soon, Page. You¡¯ll see.¡±

    There was something in his tone that set my nerves on edge. I didn¡¯t like it. I told myself I didn¡¯t know what he meant, but deep down, I already did.

    He brushed his fingers over the stone¡¯s smooth flat surface, and symbols lit up in a soft neon-green glow. Pressing his thumb to a circular mark, he spoke into the device.

    ¡°Be ready to initiate the Resurface Plan. But my family¡ª¡± He hesitated, then took another swig, his breath heavy. ¡°My son¡­ he¡¯s all I have left. And you promised. I did my part. Now do yours.¡±

    He let the black stone slip into his lap as he slouched back and drained the last of his drink. Liquor dribbled down his chin, staining the light green fabric of his shirt with deep red. His eyes drooped, his breathing slowed, and within moments, he was out cold¡ªhis chin resting on his chest. The bottle slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clank before rolling to a stop at my feet.

    I had suspected the truth since the Hearing at the Council Hall, but hearing it spoken aloud made my stomach lurch. The Resurface Plan. What was it? An attack? Were the sea creatures finally preparing to reveal themselves to the world? I had to act. Alan. Captain Francis. Dr. Willis. Someone had to know¡ªbefore it was too late.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I crept toward him, watching carefully, making sure he was truly asleep. Rising onto my hind legs, I stretched out a paw, scooting the black stone closer before snatching it up in my mouth. It was heavier than expected, but I clenched my teeth and held firm.

    I turned toward the door, almost slipping away¡ª One step. Two. Almost there¡­

    A yawn. Loud. Behind me.

    ¡°Wh¨Cwhere''s my¡ª¡± Louis mumbled, shifting groggily. Then he snapped awake. ¡°Page! Get back here with that!¡±

    I ran. Instinct took over. Down the corridor, blind turns¡ªa sharp right, then another right. Louis¡¯s footsteps thundered behind me, closing in.

    Right turn. Right again. And then, my paws skidding on the floor, it hit me¡ªwe were running in circles.

    So, up the stairs I went. Louis was not far behind though his breath came harder, his pace slowed¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t giving up. And neither was I.

    I slipped into the supply closet, breath coming fast. The mop bucket rattled as I crouched behind it, letting the black stone slip from my jaws. Outside, Louis paced the corridor, his voice soft, coaxing.

    ¡°Come now, be a good cat,¡± he called, his words honeyed with false kindness. ¡°Just give me back the communicator.¡±

    A beat of silence. Then, in an even gentler voice:

    "I''ll give you plenty of tuna. I know it''s your favorite. You used to come up to our suite every evening, waiting for Sarah to bring your bowl. Do you remember?¡±

    Oh, I remembered. Those warm nights, the comforting scent of fresh tuna, Sarah¡¯s laughter as she set down my dish. Sam, Joe, Anne¡ªeach one taking their turn to scratch behind my ears. I would leave their suite with a belly full and a heart light.

    I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t tempted¡ªjust for a second¡ªto step into the light, drop the stone, and tell him I was sorry. That I didn¡¯t mean to take what was his. That, honestly, a bowl of tuna sounded really good right now. That I missed the feeling of fingers scratching just the right spot behind my ears.

    But those days were over.

    And no matter how much I wished otherwise, they weren¡¯t coming back.

    Then his voice dropped, like a mask slipping. ¡°Come on¡­ where are you, you fucking cat?¡±

    My fur bristled. Fucking cat? Such contempt, such bile! Fine. Let him stew. He¡¯d get nothing from me. As if I would ever return his cursed stone now.

    A metallic clang rang out as fists pounded the wall, followed by the sharp crack of a boot striking hard. Then, a sound that made my fur stand on end: a growl, raw and feral, like something not quite human. I no longer recognized Louis. The man I once knew was gone, buried beneath this rage, this desperation.

    The Louis I had known¡ªthe one who smiled, who spoke with warmth¡ªwas dead. And standing in his place was a stranger, hollowed out by rage.

    The grief of it settled deep in my chest. Another loss. Another name to add to the list of those I had cared for, only to watch them slip away.

    The sound of his footsteps faded down the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Only then did I dare move. Carefully, I picked up the black stone in my mouth and crept out of the closet.

    ¡°Aha!¡±

    Louis¡¯s shout rang out like a gunshot.

    I nearly dropped the stone.

    I whirled to see him charging, eyes wild.

    Just as I turned to flee, a large hand clamped around the nape of my neck, yanking me off the ground.

    I writhed, hissing furiously. Louis¡¯s face was inches from mine, dark with fury. His other hand pried the black stone from my mouth.

    Traitor! Treasonous trout!

    Rage flared hot in my chest. Snarling, I lashed out, claws slicing across his cheek. He let out a sharp growl of pain. Good¡ªI did it again, this time striking with both paws. My claws raked over his eyes. Louis howled. His grip loosened, and I dropped, twisting midair to land on all fours. The black stone slipped from his grasp.  In an instant, I snatched it up. As he staggered back, hands pressed to his bleeding face, I turned tail and ran.

    ¡°Page! Get back here!¡± he yelled.

    Then¡ªWHAM!

    A loud, ugly thud. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Louis sprawled on the floor, having tripped over his own feet. He groaned, scrambling to get up.

    Ha! What a stroke of luck! I wasn¡¯t about to waste it. I didn¡¯t wait to see him recover. Every second counted. No time to think¡ªI bolted, sprinting for the spiral stairs.

    *****

    Still in her uniform, Alan lay sprawled across her bed, fast asleep, one arm dangling over the edge. Dropping the black stone on the floor, I leaped onto the mattress and padded toward her, nudging her shoulder. No response. Crawling onto her pillow, I tapped her cheek¡ªgently at first. She stirred, brushed her face, and rolled over.

    Frustrated, I raised my paw again and gave her a firmer smack. Alan! Wake up! We''ve an emergency!

    My voice was desperate, but to her, it was just a series of meows.

    Nothing.

    Desperate, I flopped down squarely onto her face. That did it. Alan groaned, pushing me aside as she blinked up at me, bleary-eyed and annoyed.

    ¡°Page¡­ what? Were you trying to suffocate me in my sleep? ¡± she growled.

    I jumped down, trotting toward the doorway, then turned back to face her. You have to follow me! I meowed insistently. This wasn¡¯t just another midnight disturbance. This was life or death.

    She wouldn¡¯t understand the words, but maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªshe¡¯d sense the desperation in my voice.

    It took her a minute to fully be more alert.

    ¡°Do you want to show me something?¡± she asked.

    I nodded, then couldn¡¯t help but jump in victory ¨Cfinally, she caught on! I spun in a circle. Then, quickly glanced between her and the door, waiting for her to catch up.

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± she said with a sigh, a half-smile tugging at her lips. ¡°So, what in the world do you want to show me at this hour?¡±

    She swung her legs over the bed and slipped into her shoes. Then, she froze. She saw it¡ªthe black stone. Kneeling, she picked it up, fingers grazing its smooth edges. As if responding to her touch, faint green symbols flickered into view. A single red circle blinked.

    She swallowed hard, then she pressed her thumb to the light.

    The reply came at once, a rasping voice hissing through the device.

    ¡°Mr. Kelping, your message was received well. Prepare for our arrival.¡±

    Alan¡¯s eyes were wide with shock. When she looked down at me, I saw it¡ªfear.

 Chapter 24: Here

    ¡°Prepare for our arrival.¡±

    The recording played again. Louis sat rigid, hands clasped, fingers twitching restlessly. He avoided Alan¡¯s and Captain Francis¡¯s eyes, focusing instead on an invisible point on the table.

    After I had done my duty¡ªdelivering the single piece of damning evidence¡ªAlan wasted no time handing the black stone to Captain Francis. I was there when they marched straight to the Kelping suite to confront him.

    And what a disaster it was.

    Louis first denied the stone belonged to him. But when the message played, his certainty wavered. He couldn¡¯t explain how the sea humanoids knew his name, and the harder he tried, the more his words tangled. His agitation mounted, his voice grew unsteady.

    Then Francis gave the order to bring him in.

    Louis didn¡¯t wait. He turned and ran.

    Typical. They always run when caught. Useless. His scent reeked of fear. He wouldn¡¯t get far.

    Alan was on his heels, and I followed close behind, with Francis right behind me.

    Doors cracked open as residents peered out, their faces groggy and irritated. Grumbles filled the corridors: ¡°What the hell is going on over here?¡± ¡°Who''s causing such a ruckus at this hour?¡±

    We chased Louis through the halls, up the stairs, and out onto the main deck. He skidded to a stop at the railing, breath ragged, eyes wild.

    He was cornered now. Would he fight? Or would he jump like a foolish fish?

    Alan reached him first. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back just in time. They both went tumbling, Louis crashing on top of her. I leaped onto his chest, hissing in his face, baring my fangs, claws protruding as I raised my paws in warning. He deserved worse. A good swipe across the throat, maybe?

    Now, here we were. The interrogation room. Louis sat at the table, five fresh claw marks slashed across his right cheek.

    WHACK!

    The black stone slammed onto the table in front of him.

    I flinched, nearly slipping off the edge. Alan caught me, pulling me into her arms, holding me close.

    Francis exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, his glare drilling into Louis. He leaned in, his voice a low growl.

    ¡°Tell me where you¡¯ve really been all these years. What happened to your crew? How did you meet the sea humanoids? Start talking. And don¡¯t waste your breath on lies.¡±

    He stepped back, arms crossed, his stance rigid. Alan stood beside him, waiting.

    Louis swallowed hard. His hands twitched. And then, he opened his mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always known about them.¡± He lifted his gaze to Francis.

    Francis staggered back in disbelief.

    Alan narrowed her eyes. ¡°What do you mean, you¡¯ve always known?¡±

    I was just as baffled.

    ¡°They were here long before the Great Wrath,¡± Louis continued. ¡°When I became commander of the scavenger expeditions, Jimmy and the previous commander confided in me. They had kept it a secret between themselves. They had never encountered the sea humanoids directly, only glimpsed them from a distance during their dives.

    ¡°They saw their ships, massive as whales. Some as vast as islands. Entire cities beneath the waves. They¡¯d been watching us. And we knew¡ªwe were never to cross into their domain.¡±

    ¡°But then¡­¡± Francis breathed, his voice tight.

    ¡°I had no choice. You remember what happened to Sarah after Sam was born,¡± Louis said. ¡°She was so sick that Dr. Willis¡­ he told me¡­¡± He clenched his jaw, struggling to force the words out. ¡°He said she had only days. That I should prepare myself. That I should say my goodbyes.¡±

    His voice dropped. ¡°But I couldn¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t. So, I¡­¡±

    ¡°...went to them,¡± Alan said, finishing the sentence when Louis¡¯s voice trailed off.

    Louis nodded. ¡°They¡¯re more advanced than us. Their medicine, their knowledge¡ªit¡¯s beyond what we have right now.¡±

    ¡°And they helped you?¡±

    A slow, solemn nod.

    Alan hesitated, then began, ¡°How¡ª¡± but the words died on her lips as understanding dawned.

    Francis, too, had put the pieces together. ¡°You let one of them onto this ship, didn¡¯t you?¡± His voice was sharp now, eyes narrowing.

    He let one of them in? We should throw him overboard.

    Louis turned his face away. ¡°Sarah was dying,¡± he spat, fists clenching. ¡°You think I wanted this? You think I had a choice? She was slipping away, and I¡ªI would have done anything. And I did.¡±

    Francis took a step closer. ¡°And the cost? They wouldn¡¯t have saved her for nothing. What did they want?¡±

    ¡°At first, they didn¡¯t want anything from me,¡± Louis said, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°They gave me that black stone so I could track down things we needed for the ship. Even helped me sometimes. They¡¯d give me little treasures, things they said were from their own collection.¡±

    Alan¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°So¡­ all those hauls we thought were just good luck?¡± Her voice hardened. ¡°They were from them?¡±

    Louis hesitated, then nodded. ¡°I thought they were harmless,¡± he said, quieter now. ¡°I thought¡­ they meant no harm.¡±

    Francis studied him for a long moment, his jaw tight.

    ¡°But then¡­?¡±

    ¡°They demanded ¡®us¡¯ in return.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®us¡¯?¡±

    ¡°On the last hunt, they wanted me¡­and my crew. They kept us there, in their world, using us for experiments.¡±

    ¡°What experiments?¡±

    ¡°Breeding.¡±

    ¡°Breeding?¡± Francis echoed, as though he couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing.

    ¡°Their population has been declining for years. They said it started long before the Great Wrath. The water turned toxic, destroying their ability to reproduce. And it¡¯s our fault. Our greed, our waste, our insatiable hunger for more. We poisoned the oceans with our filth, with things we discarded without a second thought. And they suffered for it.¡±

    Louis¡¯s eyes darkened as he continued, ¡°And for those who could¡­ Well, generations of inbreeding took its toll. They needed us¡­to strengthen their bloodline, to survive. But the crew had to be sedated. None of them, of course, were willing participants in their experiments.¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Were you a willing participant?¡± Alan asked.

    Louis didn''t reply. He didn''t have to. His silence spoke louder than words.

    ¡°What kind of creatures were born of your blood and theirs?¡±

    He hesitated, then shrugged. ¡°I don''t know,¡± he admitted, his gaze distant. ¡°I only wish I knew what became of the children I never met.¡±

    ¡°But why now? Francis asked.

    ¡°For decades, they stretched their existence, each generation weaker than the last. Their last viable offspring was born over a decade ago. No more children meant no more future. They had no choice but to act now.¡±

    ¡°Do you know what they are, where they come from?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve always been here. We just never saw them.¡±

    Alan scoffed, disbelieving. ¡°If they¡¯re so advanced, why can¡¯t they fix their own problems?¡±

    ¡°Even they have limits,¡± Louis replied, his annoyance starting to bubble up in his tone. ¡°And from their point of view, we¡¯re the ones who brought all this upon them. We¡¯re the source of their misery and, frankly, we¡¯re our own enemy too.¡±

    ¡°And what about this plan of theirs¡ªthe Resurface Plan?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re coming to the surface,¡± he said. ¡°They want Floating City and every ship around it.¡±

    Alan and Francis paled, their mouths slightly open in stunned silence.

    ¡°What?¡± Alan breathed, her grip on me loosening just enough that I nearly slipped from her arms. ¡°And you''re involved in this?¡±

    Louis exhaled a long breath, then let out a low, bitter laugh. His hands pressed against his temples, fingers digging into his scalp.

    ¡°This has been in motion for years,¡± he said. ¡°Long before I even knew about them. They¡¯re already moving.¡±

    Francis¡¯s throat tightened. ¡°Like the apothecary,¡± he muttered. ¡°And those machines in the lab¡ª¡±

    ¡°Their attempts to refine their bloodline,¡± Louis confirmed. ¡°But not every result was in their favor. They will rise from the deep,¡± he continued, ¡°And they will take us. If some of us don''t submit willingly¡­ well, they have ways to make sure that we do.¡±

    The blob thing, I thought. I knew it!

    ¡°We¡¯ll fight them,¡± Alan said, jaw clenched. ¡°People won¡¯t just let this happen.¡±

    Louis chuckled, low and bitter. ¡°Resist?¡± he scoffed. ¡°No. They¡¯ll welcome them with open arms¡ªsaviors in this drowning world where even monsters can look like saints. You can''t stop¨C¡±

    THWACK!

    Louis reeled, the force of the blow sending him backward. Wood scraped against the floor as his chair toppled, his body following, hands flying up to cradle his nose. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down his fingers.

    Francis stood over him. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off the smear of blood on his knuckles like it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

    *****

    Francis wasn¡¯t taking any chances. For the next few days, the watchmen in the crow''s nest had one job¡ªwatch the waters, report everything. Even if it was just a passing whale, they were to treat it like a potential threat.

    As for Louis, he was locked up where he belonged¨Cin the brig. And the bastard had the nerve to ask me to stay with him. Me! When Alan tried to leave me there, I made my feelings clear with a yowl, a swipe of my claws, and a glare that promised worse if they tried again. He didn¡¯t deserve my presence, let alone my companionship! He could rot in that tiny cell for all I cared.

    The one soul who truly needed my warmth, my care, was the little boy in the Kelping suite waiting, wondering where his father had gone.

    ¡°He''s with the captain,¡± Alan said softly, placing me on Sam¡¯s bed. ¡°They have important matters to discuss.¡±

    Sam frowned, wrapping his arms around me as I padded over to him. ¡°About what?¡±

    I flicked my tail and glanced up at Alan, waiting. Would she tell him the truth? About the sea humanoids? That his father was a treasonous trout?

    She hesitated, then finally said, ¡°About who will be the next commander of the scavenger crew.¡±

    Ah, yes. Another classic case of let¡¯s shield the child from reality. Humans love their little illusions. It¡¯s for their own good, they say. We must protect them. From what? The truth? Truth is not a thing to fear. It simply is. And if I spoke their tongue, I¡¯d set the record straight.

    I rose onto my hind legs, resting my paws on Sam¡¯s chest, meeting his bright, trusting eyes.

    "Sam, my dear boy," I said. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news¡ªactually, no, I don¡¯t¡ªI won¡¯t sugarcoat it. You deserve honesty. So here it is: Your father? A treasonous trout."

    Meow, meow, meow, meow¡­ meow.

    Sam grinned, scratching my ear. ¡°So, he¡¯s really going to keep his promise! Did you hear that, Page?¡±

    "What promise was that?" Alan asked.

    "That he¡¯ll stay aboard from now on," Sam said, his voice brimming with hope. "Just me and him. Maybe he¡¯ll even work in the kitchen with Gunther!"

    Alan¡¯s brow furrowed, but she quickly forced a smile and nodded. "Oh, yes, he¡¯s keeping his promise. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll have another role on the ship¡ªone that won¡¯t take him away from you so much."

    The innocence in Sam¡¯s voice was almost too much to bear. Would Louis even have a future here? But that all depended on whether the Resurface Plan was real. If true, then everything would change.

    Alan¡¯s shoulders were tight with tension, though she busied herself fussing over Sam, carefully settling him into his wheelchair. I hopped onto his lap as she wheeled him toward the mess hall, where we arrived just in time for breakfast.

    Today¡¯s menu: tuna and seaweed soup, plus a fresh orange from Little Eden. Gunther approached our table, setting down an extra dish for Sam and Alan¡ªthree golden-fried starfish, their crisp golden edges still sizzling.

    Sam and I wasted no time digging in. Alan, however, didn¡¯t so much as glance at hers. Gunther dropped into the seat across from her, resting his forearms on the table.

    ¡°So, is it true that Louis¡ª¡± He started to say but his words died as Alan¡¯s sharp glare cut him short. She gave the slightest tilt of her head toward Sam.

    The boy, blissfully unaware, nibbled on his starfish, his face glowing with quiet happiness. He was probably imagining all the wonderful moments he¡¯d share with his father once this meeting with the captain was over. Knowing the truth, however, soured my appetite in an instant. I pushed the starfish toward Sam, hoping he¡¯d take my share without question.

    Gunther cleared his throat. ¡°Word is, someone went rogue. Tried to jump overboard. Foolish move, that."

    Alan¡¯s expression remained unreadable. ¡°I don¡¯t know where you heard that,¡± she said carefully. ¡°But things are under control now.¡±

    He studied her, unconvinced. ¡°Are they?¡± His voice dipped lower. ¡°Because I heard whispers of a fight¡ªbetween you, the captain, and that rogue. And this morning, I saw the watchmen devour their food, faster than an albatross diving in for a kill. They said they had orders. The captain told them to watch for something¡­ something big. And from the look on his face, it wasn¡¯t a joke.¡±

    ¡°My duty as an officer on this ship is to help the captain maintain order," she said, a touch louder than necessary. The subtle shift in nearby conversations told her she had an audience. ¡°And I can assure you¡ªeverything is as it should be.¡±

    Oh, how she had spoken too soon. The moment the words left her lips, the mess hall doors slammed open and someone burst in, breathless and wide-eyed.

    ¡°There''s something in the water! Something big!¡±

    Conversations tapered off, and all heads turned to him.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± someone called out.

    ¡°I don''t know,¡± the messenger stammered, ¡°but it''s like an underwater ship. Bigger than a whale!¡±

    Before the shock could settle, another figure came sprinting in, face flushed, panting hard.

    ¡°There¡¯s not just one!¡± she managed between ragged breaths. ¡°There are more of them!¡±

    Chairs scraped against the floor as people leapt to their feet, their voices merging into a rising tide of panic and swirls of curious excitement.

    ¡°What?¡± A woman¡¯s voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Are they pirates?¡± a man shouted.

    ¡°I don''t know.¡±

    ¡°What else could they be?¡±

    ¡°They wouldn''t come this far unless they wanted something. We need to be ready.¡±

    A frantic rush followed, bodies pressing toward the door, shoving and stumbling in their hurriedness to reach the main deck. They were desperate for a glimpse of whatever it was beneath the waves.

    Gunther raised a brow at Alan. ¡°Everything is as it should be, right?¡±

    Alan¡¯s face had gone pale. She didn¡¯t answer, just sprang up and hurried around the table, gripping the handles of Sam¡¯s wheelchair.

    ¡°Are we going to see what¡¯s out there?¡± Sam asked, his excitement edged with fear.

    ¡°No,¡± Alan said firmly. ¡°I think it¡¯s best if I take you back to your room.¡±

    ¡°But I want to see what¡¯s going on!¡±

    ¡°It could be dangerous, Sam. You¡¯ll wait in your room until I know for sure that it¡¯s safe.¡±

    ¡°You won''t be staying with me?¡±

    ¡°Page will¡ª¡± She paused, glancing around. ¡°Where did he go?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t stay behind in the Kelping suite. My gut screamed at me. Something was about to change, something irreversible. And it wouldn¡¯t be for the better. I had to see it for myself.

    When I stepped onto the main deck, enormous, disc-shaped vessels burst from the water, glistening with sea spray as they surfaced. The cold wind howled past us, but no one spoke. Then came the first gasp, then another, as the sea beings crawled out through openings in the vessels.

 Chapter 25: The Cure Shops

    The sea wind lashed at my face, its cold breath biting at my whiskers, while Sam''s laughter rang out behind me, carried by the rush of the other children of NOAH 1. It was a sensation I never thought I would feel again, a thrill I had long believed to be lost to me. I could hardly believe my eyes as Sam twirled, arms wide, his feet drumming a rhythm on the main deck.

    Louis, who''d been freed from the brig, watched from the sidelines, a quiet amazement on his face. His eyes seemed to anchor the moment, as if afraid that, by looking away for even a moment, Sam would return to the chair, unable to walk again.

    Things happened just as I had predicted, though they were far too quickly for comfort. When the sea beings surfaced to our world, people were frightened, naturally. They were suspicious, as they should have been. But once word spread of the miracle the sea beings had worked on Sam, the tide quickly turned. It wasn¡¯t long before the masses began to flock to them. ¡°Cure shops¡± sprang up around Floating City, with lines stretching out the doors as people clamored for their own miracle.

    When the sick stepped out of the shops, they looked like different people. They were brighter, stronger, and just bursting with life. The blind could see, the deaf could hear, the mute could speak. Even those missing arms or legs walked out whole. To the people here, the sea beings were gods. Mysterious gods, rarely seen, only surfacing to run the Cure Shops before slipping back into their underwater vessels.

    But even with all these miracles, something just bothered me. There was a gut feeling I couldn¡¯t shake. Don¡¯t trust too easily. Don¡¯t get swept up in the awe. That''s what it told me. I hadn¡¯t forgotten what Louis said: the sea humanoids would take them all, one way or another.

    ¡°Sam!¡± Louis waved, calling him over and then slinging a green rucksack over his shoulder. ¡°Hurry up! We can¡¯t miss the last boat to Floating City.¡±

    The boy ran to his father, and I chased after him, dodging the eager hands of children reaching for my tail.

    The moment I caught up, I climbed up Sam¡¯s side, clinging tight. I wasn¡¯t letting him leave without me. And I wasn¡¯t losing sight of Louis either. Francis might have let him walk free, figuring there was no longer a reason to keep him locked up, but I still didn¡¯t trust him. Not now, maybe not ever again.

    What business did Louis have in the city? Why drag Sam there?

    Louis shot me a quick glance, his brow creased in a frown. ¡°Sorry, buddy. You¡¯ll have to leave Page behind on the ship.¡±

    Sam¡¯s face crumpled. ¡°What? Why? We always take him to Floating City.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t like the other trips, Sam. We¡¯ll be gone for a while.¡±

    ¡°A while? How long¡¯s a while? What do you mean? Where are we going? Are we moving to Floating City?¡± His eyes lit up at the last part.

    Louis let out a heavy sigh, taking his son by the arm and leading him toward the long line of people waiting to board the boat. ¡°We¡¯re heading somewhere safe.¡±

    ¡°But we¡¯re already safe on NOAH 1.¡±

    ¡°We are¡­but there¡¯s somewhere even safer.¡±

    My ears perked up. Safer? NOAH 1 was the safest place I knew, or at least, I¡¯d thought so. Seeing his worn rucksack slung over his shoulder, it suddenly clicked in my mind that this wasn¡¯t a simple trip. This was an escape. He wasn¡¯t just visiting Floating City. He was abandoning ship. Fleeing. Something was coming. Was it the sea humanoids? That takeover he¡¯d hinted at? It must be happening now. Or soon.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve got to leave Page here,¡± Louis said as we shuffled closer to the boarding area on the deck.

    Sam whined but slowly crouched down to set me on the floor. Even so, I clung to his arms, my claws gripping his sleeve, careful not to pierce the skin, but refusing to let go.

    ¡°He wants to come with us,¡± Sam pleaded.

    ¡°Just put him down, Sam,¡± Louis said, his patience thinning. ¡°He can¡¯t go with us.¡±

    ¡°But I don''t see why he can''t.¡±

    Louis let out a long, weary breath and reached for me, aiming to grab me by the scruff of my neck. I twisted away, ears flattened, and hissed, swiping a paw at his hand before he could grab hold. Before he could try again, the steward by the boarding gate called out that the next boat was ready to board.

    ¡°I guess he¡¯ll have to come with us,¡± Sam said cheerfully, his face lighting up, and cradled me in his arms as he pushed his way toward the boat.

    The boat was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, most of them bound for one of the Cure Shops. I leapt from Sam¡¯s shoulder over to Louis¡¯s. My grip tightened on his shoulder every time the boat pitched and rolled beneath the weight of too many passengers.

    The waves were rougher today, and the wind stronger. I had, with a mixture of regret and satisfaction, overdone it at breakfast. A sick feeling stirred deep in my stomach. Before I could stop it, my breakfast erupted in a violent spray, splattering across Louis¡¯s sleeve, the shock of it leaving him frozen in place. He reached into the front pocket of his coat, retrieving a handkerchief, and began to wipe off much of the brown mush Gunther had fed me.

    I flopped back into Sam¡¯s arms, nuzzling into the safe, familiar crook of his elbow. Sam gave me a sweet, worried look while Louis shot me a glare. He definitely thought I¡¯d thrown up on him on purpose. And maybe I did.

    When we reached the port, Louis flagged down a cycle rickshaw and ordered the driver, a weary-looking old man, to take us to the Lionfish Inn. Sam, ever the inquisitive child, immediately started firing off questions: ¡°Why were we going to an inn? How long would we stay? Could we pleeease stop and buy a starfish first?¡±

    Louis ignored every single question. Instead, he glanced around uneasily, and said, ¡°We¡¯re just taking a little trip. And you told me you wanted to know what it¡¯s like to be a scavenger, right?¡±

    Sam straightened in his seat, his eyes going wide with excitement. ¡°Are we going on a scavenger hunt?¡±

    The corner of Louis¡¯s mouth twitched into a small, secretive smile. ¡°Yeah, something like that. Just you and me, out on the open sea, hunting for old treasures and lost worlds. What do you think?¡±

    Sam¡¯s face lit up, his whole body vibrating with joy. ¡°Really, Papa? A real sea adventure?¡±

    ¡°Yup, absolutely. Just the two of us.¡±

    ¡°And Page!¡± Sam let out a whoop and hugged me tighter, nuzzling his nose against my head, but squeezing nearly the air out of me.

    ¡°So, we¡¯ll spend the night over at the inn, and as soon as there¡¯s first light, we¡¯ll get a boat at the dock.¡±

    The boy nodded, grinning. ¡°Sounds like a good plan, Papa.¡±

    The rickshaw driver pedaled through the streets, but something felt wrong. The atmosphere felt¡­ off. Stifling. Louis sensed it too. His jaw tightened. his eyes darting from side to side, his grip tightening protectively on Sam¡¯s arm.

    The city should have been bustling. Normally, the streets were alive with noise, people jostling through the open-air markets. But today? Too quiet. The air still. A vacuum of sound.

    The rickshaw jolted to an abrupt stop, pitching us forward. I nearly slipped from Sam¡¯s arms but clung on just in time, my claws sinking into his sleeve as I struggled to hold on.

    ¡°Hey! Watch where you¡¯re going!¡± the driver snapped at a pedestrian blocking his path, his face twisted in irritation.

    The pedestrian didn¡¯t budge. Instead, he glared and spat back, ¡°You watch where you¡¯re going!¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The driver tightened his grip on the handlebars, his knuckles turning white. ¡°I¡¯ve got the right of way!¡±

    The man still didn¡¯t move. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, his chest rising and falling in jagged rhythms. A thin thread of saliva dangled from the corner of his mouth, glistening before trailing down his chin. His eyes began to dull; a murky film was creeping over them.

    ¡°Move it,¡± the driver demanded, ¡°Or next time I won¡¯t be so quick on the brakes.¡±

    Just as he was about to push forward¡ª

    A crash.

    Screams.

    The world spun and tilted.

    I soared through the air, weightless, until the ground rose up to meet me. I landed, paws steady, heart pounding. Shaking myself off, I spun around. The rickshaw lay overturned, wheels still spinning. A small hand peeked out from beneath the vehicle.

    Sam.

    But a wet, cracking sound stopped me in my tracks. A growl, thick with hunger. A strangled cry. I turned, breath caught in my throat.

    The rickshaw driver lay on his back, feebly raising his fists and landing weak punches. On top of him was something barely human, its teeth sinking deep into the old man¡¯s face.

    The crowd gathered but did not act, only watched in horrified silence. Some looked ready to rush forward, but fear anchored them in place. Help him, or save themselves? The choice paralyzed them.

    Then, the attacker rose. The rickshaw driver dangled limply from his grip before dropping to the ground like discarded meat. A hushed gasp swept through the crowd. One step back. Then another. I retreated too, fur bristling, every instinct screaming danger.

    The attacker lifted his head, blood streaking his face, eyes scanning the shrinking circle of onlookers. And then, he opened his mouth, stretching impossibly wide, and from the darkness within, tentacles unfurled, writhing and slick, licking the air.

    The crowd staggered back, then scattered like startled birds.

    Louis pulled himself from the overturned rickshaw, then hoisted Sam to his feet. He shielded him from the bloodied scene just feet away. The boy was visibly shaken but unharmed.

    ¡°We need to go, Sam,¡± said Louis, hastily.

    Sam twisted, his small voice rising above the panic. ¡°Where¡¯s Page? Page!¡±

    Louis didn¡¯t answer. He tightened his hold, dragging the boy with him. ¡°Now, Sam. Move!¡± And in an instant, they were swallowed by the panicking crowd.

    I tried to run after them, but the attacker stepped in my way. I hissed low, claws raised, daring it to come closer.

    He reached for me, fingers grasping, but I struck first, my claws slashing across his hands. Blood welled from the fresh gashes. He let out a furious roar, his white eyes burning with rage. I dodged, slipping between his legs before scrambling up his back, my claws sinking deep. He howled, his body jerking and shaking in a desperate attempt to dislodge me. His hands clawed for me, but I clung tight.

    With one last swipe at the back of his neck, I leapt off, hitting the ground in a sprint. The Lionfish Inn was just ahead. The doors were shut, so I perched on the steps, waiting. When a guest finally pushed through the entrance, I slipped in, only for a rough hand to clamp down on me and yanked me back.

    ¡°No animals inside!¡± the innkeeper barked, her hands like iron shackles around me.

    She flung me outside as if I were no more than a piece of discarded trash. I tumbled onto the grimy pavement as the door slammed shut behind me.

    That¡¯s fine. Locked doors meant nothing to me. If the front was closed to me, I¡¯d find another way in.

    I padded into the back alley, where the stench of rotting food thickened the air. A rusted trash can lay on its side. A swarm of rats picked through the mess, their tiny claws scratching against metal as they feasted on whatever was still edible.

    It wasn¡¯t the rats that caught my attention, but the woman. She stood facing the brick wall, mumbling to herself and banging her forehead against the wall with such a force that there was a crunch after each strike.

    I stiffened. The sight was disturbingly familiar. I had seen it once before, back at the apothecary. Wynn popped into my mind. He''d been lost in his own mind, hurling himself against the walls of his cramped prison, as if trying to escape his own skin.

    ¡°Quick, grab what you can and let¡¯s get out of here,¡± one of the rats ordered, stuffing scraps into a small backpack. The others abandoned their feast and hurried to do the same, shoving bits of food into makeshift bags. Oddly enough, not one of them seemed the least bit concerned by my presence.

    What brings you here?¡± one of the rats finally asked, his whiskers twitching as he eyed me.

    ¡°I need to get inside the inn,¡± I said. ¡°The innkeeper kicked me out. She said no animals were allowed.¡±

    The rat scoffed. ¡°And you want a way in?¡±

    ¡°Yes. My humans are in there¡ª¡±

    ¡°You have humans?¡± he wrinkled his nose. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°They''re my shipmates.¡±

    The rat scoffed. ¡°That won¡¯t matter soon. Ever since the creatures from below surfaced, the humans have been¡­ wrong. More violent. Worse than usual.¡± It gestured toward the woman still slamming her skull into the bricks. ¡°And you want to trap yourself in an inn with them?¡±

    ¡°Less talking, more taking!¡± another rat snapped. ¡°The Wise Keepers warned us¡ªmove fast, or we¡¯ll be locked out.¡±

    The first rat gave a grim nod. ¡°We¡¯re all going underground. It¡¯s not safe out here. It never was, but now?¡± he shuddered. ¡°It¡¯s worse.¡±

    ¡°Enough! We¡¯re leaving!¡± the second rat barked. He bit down on his bag and turned toward the alley¡¯s exit.

    Then, there was a pause. No more wet, sickening cracks of bone against stone.

    I looked up.

    The woman had stopped. Her face was a mask of gory red, her forehead split, dented. Still she smiled.

    A twisted, gleeful grin.

    The rats didn¡¯t move. Their fur bristled, tails stiff. A chill ran through me. Something was about to go very wrong.

    She moved fast. Her hand lashed out, seizing one of the rats. The creature screamed, dropping his bag, his tiny claws scrambling against her fingers, teeth sinking deep. But she didn¡¯t flinch.

    She didn¡¯t even seem to feel it.

    None of us moved.

    Her mouth split open. Not just wide¡ªunnaturally wide.

    Something was writhing inside. Tentacles. They curled and twisted, slick with saliva, reaching, wrapping around the rat¡¯s body.

    First, his head disappeared past her lips.

    Then came the crunch.

    A sickening pop, the slow, wet tear of flesh and brittle snap of tiny bones. The rat¡¯s final scream was swallowed whole. Then, the alley fell into an awful, suffocating stillness.

    "Run!" The first rat cried, and in a blink, the others scattered, vanishing into the shadows as the woman lunged, snatching another in her grasp.

    In that instant, I bolted. I had no idea where I was going, only that I had to move. I tore through the streets, weaving between startled pedestrians, then leapt into a market, springing from basket to basket. Vendors shouted. First in anger, then in terror.

    I didn¡¯t dare look back. No need to turn around to know why.

    She was still coming.

    Then, a bark rang out followed by a guttural growl. It recognized that sound. And it was only then did I dare to stop and turn around.

    There was Lee! His teeth were locked onto the hem of my pursuer¡¯s dress, his paws braced against the dirt as he yanked her backward with all his might. She staggered, fighting to keep her balance until, out of nowhere, a club struck her skull with a sickening crack. The force sent her toppling, as if her strings had been cut, her body hitting the ground in a heap.

    Her entire body convulsed, her jaw stretching wide and cracking as the blob tore free. Tentacles writhed, blindly searching for a new host. But it didn¡¯t get far¡ªa wooden stick speared straight through its mass with a sickening, wet squelch. The tentacles flailed wildly before their movements withered and stilled.

    The Blowfish Man stood over her, his club resting on his shoulder, his face calm, as if he had done this a hundred times before.

    Lee released the hem of the dress and bounded over the fallen body, dashing to my side. He bumped his head against mine, his tail whipped wildly behind him in a blur of excitement.

    ¡°Page! It¡¯s me, Lee!¡± he yipped, bouncing on his paws, spinning in giddy circles.

    ¡°Yes, yes, I know,¡± I said, exhaling in relief. ¡°But how are you even here? The birds told me you were in the Shelter, about to be executed.¡±

    ¡°Oh, they weren¡¯t wrong. I was in there. The Warden nearly sent me to the skies. But I found a way out. You know, there¡¯s always a way.¡±

    He flicked his tail, then gestured toward the Blowfish Man with his snout.

    ¡°I found my way up the Old Rig ¡®cause I figured a good kick would set me straight,¡± he said. ¡°So, I went to this old guy¡¯s stall. He used to hate my guts ¡®cause I¡¯d take some of his pufferfish¡ªyou know, to get that kick I needed.¡±

    ¡°I remember. You told me that the dolphins showed you how to get that kick.¡±

    Lee nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. But I was too weak to even snatch a fish and ended up nearly drowning in the tank. I guess seeing me half-dead changed his mind. He plucked me out of the water, cleaned me up, and, well¡­ here I am. I owe him one.¡±

    With a sharp whistle, the Blowfish Man summoned Lee to his side. The dog obeyed without hesitation, his paws kicking up dust as he bounded over. His ears perked and tail wagged. He glanced back at me and called, ¡°Come on, Page!¡±

 Chapter 26: Problem in Little Eden

    They were on their way to Little Eden. The Blowfish Man planned to stock up on as many oranges and heads of lettuce as he could before locking himself down on Old Rig. Who knew for how long. That was why Lee wore a small backpack strapped to his back. He was to help the old man carry the food back.

    ¡°Seems like I¡¯ve got my own human now,¡± Lee joked.

    The Blowfish Man remained silent, his expression grim. Ever since the sea beings came to the surface, his wariness had only grown. He didn¡¯t trust them. Couldn¡¯t trust someone who slithered into your world and rid you of all your ailments, without asking for anything in return. No, there was no such thing as a free cure. They would demand something, sooner or later. And when they did, the cost would be steeper than anyone expected.

    The journey was anything but simple. The streets of Floating City had never been safe, but this was different.

    The blobs were everywhere. They drifted lazily in the canals, clinging to hulls like parasitic growths. One pulsated, then split, birthing a smaller, glistening mass that peeled away from its side. Some had even made it onto the docks and sidewalks, their translucent bodies twitching, faintly throbbing.

    A thin tendril stretched from one of them, feeling blindly along the ground. A rat scurried too close. In an instant, the tendril lashed out, wrapping around its body. The rat spasmed violently, limbs jerking, as the tendril forced its way into its mouth. A horrible, wet squelch followed. Then, silence. A beat later, the rat twitched again. But not like before. Not naturally. It staggered upright, head cocked at an unnatural angle. Something inside it was adjusting. Making itself at home.

    Others weren¡¯t so lucky. Some blobs had shriveled under the relentless sun, their bodies hardened and cracked, crumbling to dust beneath hurried footsteps. But not all of them died. Some still quivered, clinging stubbornly to life.

    A shiver ran down my spine. The memory of the blob¡¯s tentacles constricting around me threatened to pull me under. I shook myself out of it.

    ¡°Things have changed since you were last here, Page,¡± Lee remarked.

    ¡°But it¡¯s only been a few days,¡± I said, incredulous.

    ¡°Yes. And it feels like a lifetime, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    ¡°The blobs¡­ they¡¯re everywhere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed. Ever since those sea people showed up, more of these things have been appearing.¡±

    The people had changed too. They were angrier, more volatile. Just like that man, the one who had eaten the rickshaw driver¡¯s face. A single bump of the shoulder could send someone into a blind fury. Fists clenched. Teeth bared. It was like something had sunk its hooks into them, pulling their strings from the inside.

    ¡°You should¡¯ve seen it, Page,¡± Lee murmured, casting a glance at the Blowfish Man ahead of us. ¡°He tried to help someone. A man who went to one of those Cure Shops. I thought he was just sick. The guy nearly took his hand off with his teeth.¡±

    The Blowfish Man remained silent, his grip tightening around his club.

    On more than one occasion, he had to use it. Sometimes just one swing of it, sometimes until bone cracked, and the sickly, writhing thing inside them spilled out onto the pavement. He would crush it beneath his boot with a sickening squelch. The smell of rot and brine thickened the air. It was getting worse.

    And so was everything else.

    *****

    When we reached Little Eden, the air smelled of crushed herbs and overturned earth. The sharp tang of bruised leaves mixed with something acrid.

    Panic.

    A small crowd had already forced its way into the domed greenhouses. Hands clawed at the leafy greens, tearing them from grow trays and tubes. Others snatched fruits and vegetables straight from the soil beds, trampling the smaller plants underfoot.

    The Gardeners fought back. Their voices were hoarse from shouting, their arms outstretched, trying to shield what was left of their crops. Some yanked intruders away, while others blocked the entrances. A few had taken up pruning shears, trowels, gripping them like weapons.

    The cats of Little Eden had joined the fight. They wove between legs, backs arched, tails fluffed. Their hisses cut through the noise, followed by sharp yowls as claws found flesh. A gray tabby latched onto a man¡¯s ankle, sinking its teeth deep. He howled, shaking his leg violently, but the cat refused to let go. Another leapt onto a woman¡¯s shoulders, claws raking at her scalp as she shrieked and stumbled into a row of overturned planters.

    The Blowfish Man grunted. ¡°This place is finished,¡± he muttered, gripping his club.

    Lee flicked an ear. ¡°They¡¯re acting like the world is ending.¡±

    I swallowed hard.

    Maybe it was.

    With a sharp swing of his club, the Blowfish Man sent an intruder sprawling into the dirt. He followed through with a brutal strike to the ribs. The man wheezed, curling inward.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± the Blowfish Man demanded, pulling up a Gardener to his feet.

    ¡°They¡¯re panicking,¡± the Gardener gasped. ¡°They¡¯re trying to take everything¡ªfood, supplies. Hoarding it all.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    "They think the city is collapsing. The blobs are spreading. They say the jellyfish are taking over.¡± The Gardener¡¯s voice wavered. ¡°They say this is what those sea beings want.¡±

    ¡°I knew it,¡± the Blowfish Man spat. ¡°They didn¡¯t come to help us. They¡¯re here to control us.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then take what you can,¡± the Gardener called over his shoulder before rushing back into the fray.

    The Blowfish Man knelt beside several overturned trays, sweeping his hands through the remnants of the greens. He whistled sharply, signaling Lee to come closer. Together, they began gathering whatever was left.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°You! You¡¯re Ziggy¡¯s brother!¡±

    A breathless orange cat rushed toward me, fur bristling. I recognized him as one of the guards who had watched over Tinker¡¯s shed.

    His ears flicked back anxiously. ¡°You must¡¯ve heard about Ziggy.¡±

    My stomach twisted. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. What happened?¡±

    The cat glanced over his shoulder. ¡°Best you come with me.¡±

    *****

    The orange cat led me through the chaos, away from the greenhouse and into the quieter part of the borough. The change was immediate. The air was stifling. Somber.

    He stopped in front of Ziggy¡¯s makeshift home; a battered plastic bin with a hole cut into its side, a sheet of plastic draped like a curtain. He gave me a pointed glance before letting out a soft meow.

    A voice from inside, tentative and muffled. ¡°Yes? What is it now?¡±

    ¡°Ziggy¡¯s brother,¡± the cat replied gruffly. ¡°He¡¯s here.¡±

    A scuffling sound. Then, Wanda¡¯s dark gray face appeared through the curtain, her fur seeming paler than before, her wide eyes shadowed with worry.

    ¡°Oh, Page,¡± she whispered. ¡°Come in.¡±

    I stepped inside. The rough cloth of a towel cushioned my paws. Scattered toys¡ªfeathered trinkets, bits of string¡ªlittered the space, along with a small pile of fishbones in the corner.

    Four kittens tumbled together playfully, their tiny paws batting and pouncing with boundless energy. When they noticed me, their ears perked, heads tilting in unison, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

    One had dark gray fur, a mirror of his mother. Another, deep blue with specks of silver, a spitting image of Ziggy. A third was cloaked in soft, silvery fur, shimmering like moonlight. And the smallest of them all, delicate and quiet, had dark blue fur traced with silvery swirls, like ripples in starlit water.

    ¡°Who¡¯s that, Momma?¡± asked the gray one.

    ¡°He¡¯s your Papa¡¯s brother,¡± Wanda said softly. ¡°Your uncle. Uncle Page.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I remember!¡± another chirped. ¡°Hello, Uncle!¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Ziggy?¡± I asked, scanning the cramped space of the small house, searching for any sign of him.

    The dark blue kitten sprang up in front of me, tapping his little paws against the floor with excitement. ¡°We¡¯re going to see Papa today!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s been out guarding the greenhouses,¡± the gray kitten chimed in, her voice matter-of-fact.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t seen him in days!¡± said the smallest one, the one with silvery swirls in her fur.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t come home last night. He was on patrol.¡±

    ¡°One day, I¡¯m going to go on patrol with Papa!¡± the silvery swirled kitten declared proudly.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s funny¡ªyou actually think you¡¯re brave!¡± the dark blue kitten teased.

    ¡°I am brave! Unlike you¡­¡±

    Wanda let out a weary sigh. ¡°Kittens, please! Keep your voices down.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Momma,¡± they chimed in unison, their ears flicking back in sheepish apology.

    ¡°We¡¯re visiting him at work,¡± said the dark blue kitten. ¡°Are you going to come with us, Uncle Page?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I am,¡± I replied, but a strange feeling curled up in my stomach. Something wasn¡¯t right. I glanced over at Wanda, and my heart sank. She had turned away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She lowered her head, staring at the floor.

    After a long moment, she straightened up, took a deep breath, and gave a faint, forced smile. ¡°Well, kitties, let¡¯s get you all cleaned up before we go see Papa.¡±

    The kittens squealed with excitement and gathered around their mother. Wanda began grooming them with tender care, her rough tongue moving over each furry face. She paid extra attention to the spots behind their ears, then gently ran her tongue down their backs, making sure they were spotless before their visit.

    Once she had finished grooming them, Wanda gently ushered the kittens toward the door.

    ¡°Go wait outside for me,¡± she said softly. ¡°I need to get ready and have a talk with Uncle Page.¡± The kittens, chattering excitedly, trotted out obediently, their tiny paws pattering on the floor as they left.

    ¡°Ziggy¡¯s¡­ ill,¡± she said quietly once the kittens were out of earshot.

    My heart dropped, a wave of dread crashing over me. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, though deep down, I already feared the answer.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t the same after he came back from his day with you and Lee. At first, everything seemed normal. Everything felt fine. We¡¯d still go on our regular walks around the garden, spend time fishing by the docks. Even though he was bruised and bandaged, it didn¡¯t stop him from wanting to be with us.¡±

    ¡°But then¨C¡±

    ¡°He started changing... You know Ziggy. He¡¯s always been sweet, sharp-witted, never once showing an ounce of anger. But suddenly, he began snapping at the kittens. His temper flared for no reason. Little Otto spilled some water the Gardener had set outside the house... and Ziggy nearly flew into a rage. He raised his paw to him.¡±

    ¡°Ziggy hit him?¡± I whispered, horrified.

    ¡°The cut wasn¡¯t deep, but Otto was terrified. I cleaned him up, and the wound healed quickly, as if it had never happened. Still, Otto kept going over to cuddle with his father, despite the fear. But... the whole thing shook me, Page.¡±

    ¡°Were there other incidents?¡± I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

    Wanda looked up, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. ¡°The other day, Ziggy and I went up to Old Rig, just the two of us, to bring back a mackerel for the kittens. When I dropped it... he hissed at me. And when he opened his mouth, I saw them.¡±

    ¡°Saw them?¡± I repeated, my stomach tightening.

    ¡°They were like little worms, wriggling in his mouth. Dozens of them.¡±

    ¡°The blob,¡± I gasped, my mind racing as the world around me seemed to shrink.

    A tear slipped down her cheek, tracing a silent path through her fur. ¡°When he went to help patrol the greenhouses, he lost his temper. He lashed out at another patroller. They knew right away. One of them said they could smell it on him. The infection.¡± Her voice wavered. ¡°So they locked him in the shed.¡±

    ¡°The kittens don¡¯t know?¡± I asked.

    Wanda shook her head. ¡°I told them their father had to work late. Much later than usual.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still taking them to see him?¡± I asked.

    ¡°They want to see their father,¡± Wanda said softly. ¡°And he¡¯s not fully gone¡­ not yet. Ziggy is still in there.¡±

    She stepped closer, resting a gentle paw on my shoulder. Her eyes searched mine. ¡°Will you come with us? I know Ziggy wants to see you, too.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± I began, but before I could find the right words, the kittens poked their heads through the curtain.

    ¡°Momma, aren¡¯t we going yet? We want to see Papa!¡± they chirped impatiently.