Part III: The Island of Echoes
On the nineteenth day of their voyage, just as dawn broke across a silver horizon, a shout came from the crow's nest.
"Land! Land ahead!"
The crew rushed to the rail. Out of the fog emerged the dark outline of an island—jagged cliffs, dense jungles, and a towering mountain rising like a crown from its center. The shape matched the crescent silhouette on the ancient map.
Karamor.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The sea around them was eerily calm, and the air smelled faintly of iron and rain. Then Captain Elias gave the order, his voice steady despite the tremor in it.
"Prepare the landing boats."
---
The Aurora anchored just off a narrow beach of black sand. Strange coral formations jutted from the shallows, glowing faintly beneath the waves. Samuel examined one with fascination.
"I've never seen coral like this," he said, tapping it with a knife. "It's almost metallic."
"Leave it be," Elias warned. "This place has rules of its own."
The crew set foot on Karamor's shore under a blazing sun. Dense jungle loomed before them, filled with the cries of unseen creatures. Clara led the way, holding her compass and a small map she'd redrawn from the fragments.
"The ruins should be east of here," she said. "If the markings are right, there's an inland river leading toward the mountain."
They began their trek through thick vegetation, hacking their way through vines and roots. The air grew heavy and humid. Birds with vivid blue feathers darted through the trees, and giant ferns whispered in the wind.
Thomas, walking near the rear, took notes constantly. "These plants—some don't exist in any known catalogue," he murmured. "It's as if this island evolved separately from the rest of the world."
After several hours, they reached the river. The water was clear and slow, reflecting the sky like glass. They followed its curve until they came upon stone structures half-buried beneath moss—broken pillars, carvings of winged creatures, and walls etched with the same Phoenician symbols from the map.
Clara knelt beside one of the carvings. "These markings tell of a people who called themselves The Keepers of the Tide," she said. "It says they protected a 'heart of the sea,' something sacred."
Elias frowned. "Protected from what?"
Before she could answer, Samuel called out from ahead. "Captain! You'll want to see this!"
They climbed a rise where the jungle opened into a wide clearing. In the center stood the remains of an enormous stone arch, cracked but still standing. It looked less like a doorway and more like a portal—two columns meeting in a sharp point, covered in carvings of waves and eyes.
Thomas whispered, awestruck, "The Gate of the Sea."
---
That night, they set camp near the ruins. The jungle buzzed with distant sounds, and the sky glowed with strange lights—auroras shifting like liquid color.
Clara sat beside the fire, tracing the symbols on a piece of parchment. "This arch… it's mentioned on the map fragment. It marks the way to the inner sanctuary."
Samuel leaned closer. "And what exactly is that?"
She hesitated. "A chamber said to hold what the Keepers called the 'Heart of Karamor.' A relic of immense power—or so the legends claim."
Thomas added quietly, "The last expedition, the Mariner's Grace, came here searching for that relic. Jonas Crowe said only he survived."
Elias nodded slowly. "Then we'll do what they couldn't. But we proceed carefully."
The fire crackled between them. Beyond the light, something moved—a faint ripple of shadow slipping through the trees.
Samuel stiffened. "Did you see that?"
Elias drew his pistol. "Stay sharp."
The jungle fell silent. Even the insects stopped chirping. Then, from the darkness, a voice whispered—soft, like the echo of a wave:
> "Leave… before the sea remembers…"
Thomas spun around, his lantern shaking. "Who said that?"
No one answered. Only the wind stirred the leaves.
When dawn came, one of the sailors was gone. His bedroll lay empty, footprints leading toward the river—and then nothing.
Clara's face was pale. "We have to keep moving. Whatever this place is, it doesn't want us here."
Elias nodded grimly. "Then we'll give it a reason to remember us."
---
By midday, they reached the base of the mountain. A narrow tunnel carved into the rock descended into darkness. Strange markings lined the walls—circles within circles, like eyes watching them.
Samuel lit a torch and grinned nervously. "Well, here's where sane men turn back."
Elias gave him a look. "Good thing none of us qualify."
They entered the tunnel. The air grew cold and still. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing in the dark. After what felt like hours, the passage widened into a vast underground chamber.
The walls shimmered faintly with blue light. At the center stood a stone pedestal, and upon it, a crystal orb pulsing like a heartbeat.
"The Heart of Karamor…" Thomas whispered.
As they approached, the compass began to glow, its needle spinning violently. Clara reached out to steady it—but when she did, the orb flared, flooding the cavern with blinding light.
Images flashed before their eyes—cities under the sea, ships swallowed by waves, and faces of people long dead. Voices echoed, overlapping in a thousand tongues.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the light vanished.
They found themselves standing in silence. The orb now pulsed faintly, slower than before.
Samuel swallowed hard. "What in God's name was that?"
Thomas looked shaken. "Memories. The sea's memories."
Clara noticed something else—the symbols on the walls had changed. They now formed words in English, carved fresh into the stone:
> "Only one may leave with the heart."
Elias read it aloud, his voice low. "Only one…"
The crew exchanged uneasy glances.
Samuel tightened his grip on his torch. "That can't be good."
Elias said nothing, but deep inside, a storm had begun to form—one far worse than any at sea.
---
End of Part III
🌑 Next: "The Price of Discovery" — The crew faces betrayal, the island reveals its curse, and the true meaning of Karamor's heart is uncovered.