Where the Sea Ends

The metal tore apart, engines roared in a desperate scream. The plane shook violently. It felt as if the very heavens were hurling it from side to side. People screamed, clung to their seats—some whispered prayers, others cried out names. The cries of children spread from all directions, so loud they seemed to drown out everything else.

Elias gripped the armrest until his knuckles turned white. One thought kept circling in his head: “If God exists, then why did He take her—and now tries to take me too?” He saw a little boy sobbing desperately in his mother’s arms nearby, yet Elias could not utter a word. It was as if his tongue had grown numb and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Another thought pierced his mind—that he had never avenged his colleague, the one who so heartlessly stole his idea.

Clara clutched at her seatbelt, her heart pounding wildly. Clouds flashed past the window, changing so quickly it seemed the world itself was falling apart. One thought circled in her mind: “If I die so easily, no one will ever know how terrified I was of flying, and my professor will never see me succeed—thanks to him.”

Grayson breathed steadily with his eyes closed. His hands trembled, just as they had before his very first surgery, but all his thoughts were silenced by a groan of pain and fear from the back of the plane. The man jumped up instinctively, rushing to a passenger struck by a poorly secured piece of luggage.

“Hold on, just hold on. You still have time.”

Faye pressed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, whispering something softly to herself. Tears streamed down her cheeks one after another, soaking the new T-shirt her best friend had just sent her. Countless thoughts rushed through her head, but one screamed louder than the rest: “If you keep smoking, you won’t last long.” Her friend had been so right.

San burst into loud laughter—but it came out too hysterical.

“Well then, my dear friends! The rollercoaster ride begins!” he shouted, though his voice cracked with fear. In return, he received only disapproving stares from the passengers.

Verity, unlike the others, fixed her gaze on the flight attendant, trying to memorize her every move. If she survived and made it home, her first-person article would break all records and reach the top of every news site.

Then came a sudden jolt. And then—Bang.

A flash. And darkness.

The roar of waves. The salty taste on the lips. The cold air that cut straight through to the bone.

Clara opened her eyes first. The dazzling sky blinded her, forcing her to squint. She lay on the wet sand, covered in dirt and blood, shallow cuts marking much of her body. As she inhaled, she coughed violently, spitting out water. The world swam before her eyes, as if she were still falling.

Elias staggered to his feet, trembling all over. His glasses lay nearby, buried in sand, one lens cracked right down the middle. He still put them on and scanned the surroundings for survivors, but all he saw were wreckage, suitcases, and motionless bodies. Filling his lungs, he shouted:

“Hey! Is anyone alive!?”

His voice cracked.

From the water, San emerged, coughing, raising his hand.

“Well… welcome to a five-star resort, bro. Only the swimming pool’s a little too big.”

Clara struggled to stand, still shaking. She heard a groan nearby. Faye had been washed ashore. She was trembling, her hair plastered to her face, and whispered weakly:

“Mom…”

Clara stumbled toward her, desperately trying to help.

Verity stood apart from the others. In her hands she clutched a soaked notebook to her chest as if afraid of losing it. She stared at the forest stretching beyond the beach. Too dark. Too strange. As if the forest did not welcome them. As if the forest already knew.

Grayson appeared last. He sat on a piece of wreckage, desperately trying to bring an unconscious stranger back to life.

“Hey! Can you hear me? … Come on…” He shook the man, patted his cheek, but the body remained motionless.

Grayson’s lips trembled with frustration, with rage. He stared at the man for a few more seconds before letting out a heavy sigh and slowly slipping into the water. His strength was nearly gone—only the bitter taste of failure remained. Once again, he had not been able to save.

San, at last, dropped his jokes. He stumbled ashore, straightened up, and brushed off the sand.

And then he froze. His gaze locked on a figure at the tree line. His eyes widened.

“…Sai?!”

The next moment, he broke into a sprint, rushing toward him with all his strength.

Grayson, still breathing heavily, lifted his eyes and noticed two girls—Clara and Faye. They clung to each other, as if trying to vanish against the horror around them. Their hair was tangled, their eyes wide with shock and terror. Clara sobbed quietly, clutching the girl so tightly it seemed she was trying to hold on not only to her, but to herself. Faye, meanwhile, simply stared straight ahead.

Grayson wanted to help, to say something comforting, but the lump in his throat forced him to sit down nearby, burying his face into his knees.

Behind him, San’s voice rang out:

“Sai?! Is that you?”

Grayson turned instinctively and saw San running toward a man he hadn’t noticed at first. The man stood there, drenched, his face tired—but alive.

Something jolted inside him, his chest tightening. He couldn’t quite place why this scene felt so… wrong. But seeing San’s radiant joy, he quickly looked away and brushed off the thought. Not his business.

San stumbled across the sand and finally reached the man.

“Sai… Silas. You’re alive!” His voice shook; he was half-laughing, half-gasping for air.

The man lifted his head, and for a moment something flickered across his face—as if he recognized a shadow of the past in the way he was addressed. But instead of answering, he simply asked in confusion:

“Who are you?”

San froze, as if striking a wall. His joy shifted into bewilderment. After a pause, he whispered:

“But you…”

He wanted to explain—that Silas had been a friend of his father, the one who had so suddenly died not long ago. But then he realized—the man looked far too young.

The scene drew everyone’s attention. Nobody spoke. Only the rustling of leaves and the crash of waves filled the silence.

San forced a crooked smile and stammered:

“Sorry, friend. I must have mistaken you.”

With that, he slowly trudged away.

The man glanced at everyone around him, thinking, “What nonsense is this?” The sand beneath his feet felt unnaturally warm, and the faces before him disturbingly familiar. The wind grew stronger, as if the island itself were listening. The forest swayed, and somewhere deep within, a branch snapped. Too loud—too deliberate. As if something unseen had taken its first step.

The sound did not fade. It repeated, closer this time.