The water moved oddly, little surges that didn’t match the usual rhythm of the tide. A storm brewing above; maybe the alien had been right. I dismissed it. I’d dived through worse. And I was only going deeper, where the effects of the storm would be barely noticeable.
A dark shadow on the cliff face caught my eye. I pointed my torch at it, half-expecting to see a cave entrance. No such luck. It was just an isolated algae patch, nothing more.
According to the old records I'd found, the cave should be somewhere here. The description had been vague, but I knew this island well enough to recognise the underwater features mentioned. It had to be in this area. I stopped my descent and scanned the craggy rocks with my torch. There was less algae growth down here where sunlight was becoming sparser. Thin veins of a darker sediment looked like they'd been painted onto the cliff. This was so very different from the busy, colourful coral reefs that I usually dived to, but no less beautiful in its own gloomy way.
Something sparkly caught my eye, a little further up the cliff and to my right. A few air bubbles rose to the surface, shimmering like little gems in the light of my torch. Something was producing them. There were too many to come from plants. Fish didn't create bubbles. Yet I doubted a dolphin or whale had squeezed into a gash in the cliff. And while some of the other resort staff liked snorkelling at the reef, I was the only diver on the island right now.
I followed the stream of bubbles to its source. The beam of my torch caught on a patch of algae that rippled strangely, not with the current but as if clinging to something that wasn’t stone. I brushed at it with gloved fingers. To my surprise, the dark green veil parted, revealing a shadowed hollow just big enough for a person to squeeze through.
Without those bubbles, I would never have known it was there. Perfect camouflage.
Excitement fluttered through me and I had to focus on keeping my breathing steady. The map hadn’t lied. The cave did exist, hidden beneath years of growth. Tiny bubbles drifted out from the crack, trailing upward like glittering beads on a necklace. My torchlight flickered over them, and I could have sworn they pulsed in rhythm, though that had to be my imagination. Just a trick of the light.
I hovered, weighing the risk. My diving trainer's voice in my head reminded me that unknown caves were dangerous: disorientation, entanglement, equipment damage. But the thrill of discovery drowned out the caution. I’d been diving these waters for years; I knew how to keep my cool. And I simply had to know what was hiding in the darkness. This was my territory, and it almost felt like an affront to find a cave that had been hiding from me.
Taking a deep breath through the regulator, I unclipped my reel and tied the guideline to a jagged spur outside the entrance. It was one of the most important tools a diver carried - the cord would become a lifeline leading me back out if visibility dropped to zero.
One slow fin-kick at a time, I edged forward. The slit widened just enough for me to slip inside, the light from the open sea shrinking to a silver shimmer behind me. The walls were rough and almost black, clearly volcanic in origin. Maybe this was a lava tube. The passage curved downward, and the bubbles grew stronger, fizzing past my mask as though urging me deeper.
I kicked on, heart thudding, into the cave that shouldn’t exist. My torchlight cut only a few metres ahead before it was swallowed. I kept one hand on the guideline and forced myself to keep my breathing steady. Slow in, slow out. Don’t waste air.
The bubbles thickened the further I went. They streamed from tiny cracks in the stone, glinting in my torchlight like scattered coins. I wondered what was producing them. Volcanic gas? A fissure leading into an air pocket? Whatever it was, the flow never wavered. Almost rhythmic. Almost deliberate.
The passage opened suddenly into a chamber large enough that my beam barely reached the opposite wall. The ceiling arched high above, jagged with rock teeth and draped in algae that swayed as though stirred by some invisible current. Eerily beautiful - but the kind of beauty that whispered you don’t belong here.
Get out while you still can.
When had someone last set eyes on this chamber? The people who'd written about the cave, decades ago, had they ever made it inside? The records didn't mention the bubbles or the rough volcanic walls. Maybe other divers had simply looked at it from the outside and decided not to proceed. Or their equipment had been insufficient, their air cylinders not big enough for such a long dive. Either way, I felt like a true explorer. Even if others had been here before, I was one of a tiny group of people who'd ever seen this cave. It was a momentous thought that almost took my breath away.
I finned further in, checked my pressure gauge. Just over half a tank. Enough time, but not forever. I should turn back soon. Better safe than sorry. Next time, I'd know exactly where the cave was and didn't have to waste time on trying to find it. I'd mark the outside with something to make it easier to retrace my steps. Well, my fin strokes.
That was when the current shifted.
A low groan shuddered through the stone, subtle at first, then deep enough to rattle my ribs. It wasn’t the sound of fish or current. It was the sound of weight shifting – of the ocean pressing against a weakness in the cliff. The cave itself seemed to take a breath. A shower of silt rained down, clouding my beam. For a second, I was reminded of a snow globe that someone had just shaken violently.
The ceiling shifted again. Rock teeth ground against each other with a sickening scrape, like bones breaking. Before I could kick back, a slab tore free and tumbled. It hit the floor in a muted crash that echoed in my chest as much as my ears.
I twisted, nearly snagging my hose on a jag of stone. My fins clipped the wall, jolting me sideways. The impact knocked bubbles from my regulator in a frantic rush.
The guideline snapped taut, my tether to the outside quivering in my grip. For one glorious moment, I was relieved - until the cord jerked once, then sagged slack. My heart plummeted. I tugged at it frantically. No give. It was pinned beneath rubble, my lifeline as trapped as I was.
The water was turning into mud, all visibility swallowed by debris. My pulse hammered in my ears louder than the hiss of the regulator.
The entrance was gone. The only way out… blocked.
Maybe there was a storm raging above the surface. Maybe I should have listened to the alien. Or maybe this had just been a freak accident that could never have been predicted.
Either way, large rocks were in between me and the outside world.
My chest tightened. Not from lack of air, not yet, but from the cold realisation that I was trapped.
4
Cerban
The storm was gathering. I could feel it through the soles of my feet as I left the meeting, a deep rumble that made my gills twitch open and closed. It was drawing closer fast. This was going to be a big one.
Outside, the air was heavy with the scent of the oncoming storm, overlaying the salty taste of the sea. Clouds smothered the sun, turning the sky to pewter. Palm fronds snapped in the wind and sand pelted against my legs like tiny stings.
