Page 14 of Cerban
Maelis
By morning, the storm had passed. The sky outside the infirmary window was scrubbed clean, an endless stretch of blue broken only by drifting white clouds. The palm trees still leaned sideways, salt-crusted and battered, but the wind had lost its teeth.
I, however, was still stuck in bed.
Tyrone had fussed over me since dawn, checking my vitals, making me sip water and nibble dry biscuits, reminding me every few minutes that I’d nearly drowned. I was grateful, really – but also bored out of my skull. There are only so many ways to count ceiling tiles before you start to lose it.
At least my dive camera had survived. Tyrone had retrieved my gear, setting it on the chair by my bed. The wetsuit reeked of salt and algae, but the little waterproof housing with my camera inside was mercifully intact. I powered it on, fast-forwarding through the first dull minutes of me swimming along the reef.
When the footage reached the cave, my breath hitched. Seeing it from the safety of the infirmary was surreal. I pulled the blanket closer to myself. The torchlight darted over jagged rock, the silt clouded the view, and then came the collapse – my world turning into a storm of dust and shadow.
But it wasn’t the rockfall that made me sit up straighter. It was the bubbles.
On the recording, they rose in streams along the cave wall. Not the erratic fizz of trapped air pockets. No, these were steady, deliberate, pulsing with a rhythm. Five bursts, pause. Five bursts, pause. Over and over again, even as the rocks crumbled.
I scrubbed back and replayed it, leaning so close my forehead almost hit the screen. It wasn’t natural. Couldn’t be.
A shiver ran down my spine. I’d thought the bubbles were just a trick of the currents in the moment, but now, safe and dry, I could see it clearly: a pattern. Almost like counting.
I sank back into the pillows, clutching the camera to my chest. Whatever those bubbles were, they hadn’t been random. And something told me the finman – Cerban – had noticed them too.
I was still staring at the looping footage when the door creaked open and Tyrone slipped inside, balancing a tray with a steaming mug and another round of dry biscuits.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he chided gently.
“I am,” I said, though the way my heart was racing at the sight on the screen made it a lie. I turned the camera so he could see. “Look. Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
He set the tray down and leaned over my shoulder. On the little display, the bubbles rose again in their strange rhythm – five bursts, pause, five bursts, pause.
Tyrone frowned. “That’s… odd. Could be gas trapped in the rock, but I’ve never seen it come out that evenly before.”
“So you see it too. I thought maybe I was losing it.”
“No, you’re not losing it.” He straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. “But whatever it is, it’s not my field. I patch up jellyfish stings, Maelis, I don’t explain geology.”
Still, the look in his eyes said he found it just as unsettling as I did.
I sank back against the pillows. “It doesn’t feel natural. Like it was… counting.”
“Counting?” He gave a small snort, though there wasn’t much humour in it. “That’s a stretch.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, but the unease gnawed at me.
Tyrone busied himself with the mug, pressing it into my hands. “Drink. Hot tea fixes most things.”
"Do they teach that in nursing school?"
He laughed and busied himself with the monitors tracking my vitals.
I sipped obediently. The warmth helped, though it didn’t stop my brain racing.
“There’s something else you should know,” Tyrone said after a moment. His voice had shifted, quieter now. “Pam was on a call last night. With Paul, and your rescuer. Cerban.”
I stilled. “And?”
His expression was troubled. “She wasn’t pleased. The finfolk are under strict orders not to interfere with staff. You know that. After what Kelon did… Well. Cerban’s actions are being treated as a serious breach.”
My stomach dropped. “He saved my life.”
