Page 11 of Ocean's Whisper

"In a protected marine sanctuary?" Isolde countered, her scientific brain desperately seeking rational explanations. "They'd never get clearance."

The mysterious stranger's accusation floated back to her:You caused it. She pushed the absurd thought away. That was ridiculous. People didn't cause tidal waves.

A sturdy paramedic with kind eyes approached Isolde, breaking through her thoughts. "Ma'am, we need to check you out."

"I'm fine," Isolde protested automatically, her hand brushing wet sand from her torn sleeve. "Others need help more than?—"

"You nearly drowned," the paramedic interrupted, guiding her firmly toward the ambulance with a gentle hand on her elbow. "Standard protocol."

Isolde relented, allowing herself to be led away. The paramedic draped a silver thermal blanket over her shoulders and sat her down at the back of the ambulance. As he checked her vitals, Isolde's gaze drifted back to the devastation where her workplace had stood just hours before.

"Your pulse is elevated," the paramedic noted, pressing his fingers to her wrist. "Any chest pain? Difficulty breathing?"

"No," Isolde answered, though her skin tingled with an unfamiliar energy that seemed to pulse in time with the waves breaking on shore. "Just... processing everything."

He handed her a bottle of water. "Drink this. You're dehydrated."

Isolde took a long sip, her mind returning to the naked man's claim. It was preposterous. And yet... she couldn't shake the feeling that something profound had shifted inside her when that wave rose from the ocean. Almost as if some dormant part of her had awakened.

"Everything looks okay, all things considered," the paramedic concluded after finishing his assessment. "Do you want transport to the hospital for observation?"

"No," Isolde said firmly, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I just want to go home."

"Someone should keep an eye on you tonight," he cautioned. "Any family nearby?"

The question stung. Here it was, her thirtieth birthday, and she had no one. "I'll be fine on my own."

The paramedic frowned, clearly not satisfied with her answer, but he moved on to his next patient after giving her discharge instructions.

As Isolde sat watching emergency crews sorting through the wreckage, her thoughts kept returning to her mysterious rescuer's words, to the inexplicable wave that had no scientific explanation, and to the disturbing possibility that—just maybe—there were forces at work beyond what her scientist's mind could comprehend.

She soon slid down from the ambulance, the silver thermal blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Another paramedic had tried to convince her one more time to go to thehospital, but she had politely declined. Her body felt different—energized yet exhausted like she had been plugged into some cosmic outlet and overloaded.

She wandered away from the flashing lights and the controlled chaos of emergency responders, her bare feet sinking into the cool, damp sand. Debris from the research station littered the beach like fallen stars. A microscope here, a filing cabinet there—the scattered remains of years of scientific inquiry.

"You caused it."

The stranger's words echoed in her mind, sending an electric tingle down her spine. Isolde shook her head, trying to dislodge the ridiculous notion.

"That's completely impossible," she whispered to herself, picking her way through shattered glass and splintered wood. "I don’t have the power to cause a natural disaster."

And yet—what other explanation was there? No earthquake. No underwater explosion. Just a massive wall of water appearing out of nowhere on her thirtieth birthday.

"I must be losing my mind to even consider this is somehow my fault," Isolde murmured, scanning the darkened beach for any sign of the naked stranger. Despite his arrogance and bizarre claim, he had seemed so certain and something about his intensity had resonated with her on a level she couldn't explain.

She needed to find him. Needed answers.

Isolde moved farther down the beach away from the rescue teams and the shattered remains of her workplace. The silver blanket fluttered around her as the ocean breeze picked up, carrying with it the tang of salt and something else—something wild and untamed that made her heart race.

"Where are you?" she called out, her voice swallowed by the rhythmic crash of waves.

A piece of driftwood caught her eye—perfectly white and smooth, unlike the jagged debris from the research station. Isolde bent to pick it up, running her fingers along its polished surface.

The moment her skin made contact, the water at the shoreline pulsed, drawing back several feet before rushing forward again with unusual force. Isolde dropped the driftwood with a startled gasp, her eyes wide with shock.

"That didn't just happen," she told herself firmly, her scientific mind desperately searching for a rational explanation. "Correlation is not causation. Basic research principle."

But her hands trembled as she backed away from the water's edge. Suddenly, the ocean—her constant friend and companion—felt alien and dangerous. And somewhere out there, a man with storm-colored eyes held the explanations she needed.

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