The sea wind lashed at my face, its cold breath biting at my whiskers, while Sam's laughter rang out behind me, carried by the rush of the other children of NOAH 1. It was a sensation I never thought I would feel again, a thrill I had long believed to be lost to me. I could hardly believe my eyes as Sam twirled, arms wide, his feet drumming a rhythm on the main deck.

  Louis, who'd been freed from the brig, watched from the sidelines, a quiet amazement on his face. His eyes seemed to anchor the moment, as if afraid that, by looking away for even a moment, Sam would return to the chair, unable to walk again.

  Things happened just as I had predicted, though they were far too quickly for comfort. When the sea beings surfaced to our world, people were frightened, naturally. They were suspicious, as they should have been. But once word spread of the miracle the sea beings had worked on Sam, the tide quickly turned. It wasn’t long before the masses began to flock to them. “Cure shops” sprang up around Floating City, with lines stretching out the doors as people clamored for their own miracle.

  When the sick stepped out of the shops, they looked like different people. They were brighter, stronger, and just bursting with life. The blind could see, the deaf could hear, the mute could speak. Even those missing arms or legs walked out whole. To the people here, the sea beings were gods. Mysterious gods, rarely seen, only surfacing to run the Cure Shops before slipping back into their underwater vessels.

  But even with all these miracles, something just bothered me. There was a gut feeling I couldn’t shake. Don’t trust too easily. Don’t get swept up in the awe. That's what it told me. I hadn’t forgotten what Louis said: the sea humanoids would take them all, one way or another.

  “Sam!” Louis waved, calling him over and then slinging a green rucksack over his shoulder. “Hurry up! We can’t miss the last boat to Floating City.”

  The boy ran to his father, and I chased after him, dodging the eager hands of children reaching for my tail.

  The moment I caught up, I climbed up Sam’s side, clinging tight. I wasn’t letting him leave without me. And I wasn’t losing sight of Louis either. Francis might have let him walk free, figuring there was no longer a reason to keep him locked up, but I still didn’t trust him. Not now, maybe not ever again.

  What business did Louis have in the city? Why drag Sam there?

  Louis shot me a quick glance, his brow creased in a frown. “Sorry, buddy. You’ll have to leave Page behind on the ship.”

  Sam’s face crumpled. “What? Why? We always take him to Floating City.”

  “This isn’t like the other trips, Sam. We’ll be gone for a while.”

  “A while? How long’s a while? What do you mean? Where are we going? Are we moving to Floating City?” His eyes lit up at the last part.

  Louis let out a heavy sigh, taking his son by the arm and leading him toward the long line of people waiting to board the boat. “We’re heading somewhere safe.”

  “But we’re already safe on NOAH 1.”

  “We are…but there’s somewhere even safer.”

  My ears perked up. Safer? NOAH 1 was the safest place I knew, or at least, I’d thought so. Seeing his worn rucksack slung over his shoulder, it suddenly clicked in my mind that this wasn’t a simple trip. This was an escape. He wasn’t just visiting Floating City. He was abandoning ship. Fleeing. Something was coming. Was it the sea humanoids? That takeover he’d hinted at? It must be happening now. Or soon.

  “Alright, you’ve got to leave Page here,” Louis said as we shuffled closer to the boarding area on the deck.

  Sam whined but slowly crouched down to set me on the floor. Even so, I clung to his arms, my claws gripping his sleeve, careful not to pierce the skin, but refusing to let go.

  “He wants to come with us,” Sam pleaded.

  “Just put him down, Sam,” Louis said, his patience thinning. “He can’t go with us.”

  “But I don't see why he can't.”

  Louis let out a long, weary breath and reached for me, aiming to grab me by the scruff of my neck. I twisted away, ears flattened, and hissed, swiping a paw at his hand before he could grab hold. Before he could try again, the steward by the boarding gate called out that the next boat was ready to board.

  “I guess he’ll have to come with us,” Sam said cheerfully, his face lighting up, and cradled me in his arms as he pushed his way toward the boat.

  The boat was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, most of them bound for one of the Cure Shops. I leapt from Sam’s shoulder over to Louis’s. My grip tightened on his shoulder every time the boat pitched and rolled beneath the weight of too many passengers.

  The waves were rougher today, and the wind stronger. I had, with a mixture of regret and satisfaction, overdone it at breakfast. A sick feeling stirred deep in my stomach. Before I could stop it, my breakfast erupted in a violent spray, splattering across Louis’s sleeve, the shock of it leaving him frozen in place. He reached into the front pocket of his coat, retrieving a handkerchief, and began to wipe off much of the brown mush Gunther had fed me.

  I flopped back into Sam’s arms, nuzzling into the safe, familiar crook of his elbow. Sam gave me a sweet, worried look while Louis shot me a glare. He definitely thought I’d thrown up on him on purpose. And maybe I did.

  When we reached the port, Louis flagged down a cycle rickshaw and ordered the driver, a weary-looking old man, to take us to the Lionfish Inn. Sam, ever the inquisitive child, immediately started firing off questions: “Why were we going to an inn? How long would we stay? Could we pleeease stop and buy a starfish first?”

  Louis ignored every single question. Instead, he glanced around uneasily, and said, “We’re just taking a little trip. And you told me you wanted to know what it’s like to be a scavenger, right?”

  Sam straightened in his seat, his eyes going wide with excitement. “Are we going on a scavenger hunt?”

  The corner of Louis’s mouth twitched into a small, secretive smile. “Yeah, something like that. Just you and me, out on the open sea, hunting for old treasures and lost worlds. What do you think?”

  Sam’s face lit up, his whole body vibrating with joy. “Really, Papa? A real sea adventure?”

  “Yup, absolutely. Just the two of us.”

  “And Page!” Sam let out a whoop and hugged me tighter, nuzzling his nose against my head, but squeezing nearly the air out of me.

  “So, we’ll spend the night over at the inn, and as soon as there’s first light, we’ll get a boat at the dock.”

  The boy nodded, grinning. “Sounds like a good plan, Papa.”

  The rickshaw driver pedaled through the streets, but something felt wrong. The atmosphere felt… off. Stifling. Louis sensed it too. His jaw tightened. his eyes darting from side to side, his grip tightening protectively on Sam’s arm.

  The city should have been bustling. Normally, the streets were alive with noise, people jostling through the open-air markets. But today? Too quiet. The air still. A vacuum of sound.

  The rickshaw jolted to an abrupt stop, pitching us forward. I nearly slipped from Sam’s arms but clung on just in time, my claws sinking into his sleeve as I struggled to hold on.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” the driver snapped at a pedestrian blocking his path, his face twisted in irritation.

  The pedestrian didn’t budge. Instead, he glared and spat back, “You watch where you’re going!”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  The driver tightened his grip on the handlebars, his knuckles turning white. “I’ve got the right of way!”

  The man still didn’t move. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, his chest rising and falling in jagged rhythms. A thin thread of saliva dangled from the corner of his mouth, glistening before trailing down his chin. His eyes began to dull; a murky film was creeping over them.

  “Move it,” the driver demanded, “Or next time I won’t be so quick on the brakes.”

  Just as he was about to push forward—

  A crash.

  Screams.

  The world spun and tilted.

  I soared through the air, weightless, until the ground rose up to meet me. I landed, paws steady, heart pounding. Shaking myself off, I spun around. The rickshaw lay overturned, wheels still spinning. A small hand peeked out from beneath the vehicle.

  Sam.

  But a wet, cracking sound stopped me in my tracks. A growl, thick with hunger. A strangled cry. I turned, breath caught in my throat.

  The rickshaw driver lay on his back, feebly raising his fists and landing weak punches. On top of him was something barely human, its teeth sinking deep into the old man’s face.

  The crowd gathered but did not act, only watched in horrified silence. Some looked ready to rush forward, but fear anchored them in place. Help him, or save themselves? The choice paralyzed them.

  Then, the attacker rose. The rickshaw driver dangled limply from his grip before dropping to the ground like discarded meat. A hushed gasp swept through the crowd. One step back. Then another. I retreated too, fur bristling, every instinct screaming danger.

  The attacker lifted his head, blood streaking his face, eyes scanning the shrinking circle of onlookers. And then, he opened his mouth, stretching impossibly wide, and from the darkness within, tentacles unfurled, writhing and slick, licking the air.

  The crowd staggered back, then scattered like startled birds.

  Louis pulled himself from the overturned rickshaw, then hoisted Sam to his feet. He shielded him from the bloodied scene just feet away. The boy was visibly shaken but unharmed.

  “We need to go, Sam,” said Louis, hastily.

  Sam twisted, his small voice rising above the panic. “Where’s Page? Page!”

  Louis didn’t answer. He tightened his hold, dragging the boy with him. “Now, Sam. Move!” And in an instant, they were swallowed by the panicking crowd.

  I tried to run after them, but the attacker stepped in my way. I hissed low, claws raised, daring it to come closer.

  He reached for me, fingers grasping, but I struck first, my claws slashing across his hands. Blood welled from the fresh gashes. He let out a furious roar, his white eyes burning with rage. I dodged, slipping between his legs before scrambling up his back, my claws sinking deep. He howled, his body jerking and shaking in a desperate attempt to dislodge me. His hands clawed for me, but I clung tight.

  With one last swipe at the back of his neck, I leapt off, hitting the ground in a sprint. The Lionfish Inn was just ahead. The doors were shut, so I perched on the steps, waiting. When a guest finally pushed through the entrance, I slipped in, only for a rough hand to clamp down on me and yanked me back.

  “No animals inside!” the innkeeper barked, her hands like iron shackles around me.

  She flung me outside as if I were no more than a piece of discarded trash. I tumbled onto the grimy pavement as the door slammed shut behind me.

  That’s fine. Locked doors meant nothing to me. If the front was closed to me, I’d find another way in.

  I padded into the back alley, where the stench of rotting food thickened the air. A rusted trash can lay on its side. A swarm of rats picked through the mess, their tiny claws scratching against metal as they feasted on whatever was still edible.

  It wasn’t the rats that caught my attention, but the woman. She stood facing the brick wall, mumbling to herself and banging her forehead against the wall with such a force that there was a crunch after each strike.

  I stiffened. The sight was disturbingly familiar. I had seen it once before, back at the apothecary. Wynn popped into my mind. He'd been lost in his own mind, hurling himself against the walls of his cramped prison, as if trying to escape his own skin.

  “Quick, grab what you can and let’s get out of here,” one of the rats ordered, stuffing scraps into a small backpack. The others abandoned their feast and hurried to do the same, shoving bits of food into makeshift bags. Oddly enough, not one of them seemed the least bit concerned by my presence.

  What brings you here?” one of the rats finally asked, his whiskers twitching as he eyed me.

  “I need to get inside the inn,” I said. “The innkeeper kicked me out. She said no animals were allowed.”

  The rat scoffed. “And you want a way in?”

  “Yes. My humans are in there—”

  “You have humans?” he wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

  “They're my shipmates.”

  The rat scoffed. “That won’t matter soon. Ever since the creatures from below surfaced, the humans have been… wrong. More violent. Worse than usual.” It gestured toward the woman still slamming her skull into the bricks. “And you want to trap yourself in an inn with them?”

  “Less talking, more taking!” another rat snapped. “The Wise Keepers warned us—move fast, or we’ll be locked out.”

  The first rat gave a grim nod. “We’re all going underground. It’s not safe out here. It never was, but now?” he shuddered. “It’s worse.”

  “Enough! We’re leaving!” the second rat barked. He bit down on his bag and turned toward the alley’s exit.

  Then, there was a pause. No more wet, sickening cracks of bone against stone.

  I looked up.

  The woman had stopped. Her face was a mask of gory red, her forehead split, dented. Still she smiled.

  A twisted, gleeful grin.

  The rats didn’t move. Their fur bristled, tails stiff. A chill ran through me. Something was about to go very wrong.

  She moved fast. Her hand lashed out, seizing one of the rats. The creature screamed, dropping his bag, his tiny claws scrambling against her fingers, teeth sinking deep. But she didn’t flinch.

  She didn’t even seem to feel it.

  None of us moved.

  Her mouth split open. Not just wide—unnaturally wide.

  Something was writhing inside. Tentacles. They curled and twisted, slick with saliva, reaching, wrapping around the rat’s body.

  First, his head disappeared past her lips.

  Then came the crunch.

  A sickening pop, the slow, wet tear of flesh and brittle snap of tiny bones. The rat’s final scream was swallowed whole. Then, the alley fell into an awful, suffocating stillness.

  "Run!" The first rat cried, and in a blink, the others scattered, vanishing into the shadows as the woman lunged, snatching another in her grasp.

  In that instant, I bolted. I had no idea where I was going, only that I had to move. I tore through the streets, weaving between startled pedestrians, then leapt into a market, springing from basket to basket. Vendors shouted. First in anger, then in terror.

  I didn’t dare look back. No need to turn around to know why.

  She was still coming.

  Then, a bark rang out followed by a guttural growl. It recognized that sound. And it was only then did I dare to stop and turn around.

  There was Lee! His teeth were locked onto the hem of my pursuer’s dress, his paws braced against the dirt as he yanked her backward with all his might. She staggered, fighting to keep her balance until, out of nowhere, a club struck her skull with a sickening crack. The force sent her toppling, as if her strings had been cut, her body hitting the ground in a heap.

  Her entire body convulsed, her jaw stretching wide and cracking as the blob tore free. Tentacles writhed, blindly searching for a new host. But it didn’t get far—a wooden stick speared straight through its mass with a sickening, wet squelch. The tentacles flailed wildly before their movements withered and stilled.

  The Blowfish Man stood over her, his club resting on his shoulder, his face calm, as if he had done this a hundred times before.

  Lee released the hem of the dress and bounded over the fallen body, dashing to my side. He bumped his head against mine, his tail whipped wildly behind him in a blur of excitement.

  “Page! It’s me, Lee!” he yipped, bouncing on his paws, spinning in giddy circles.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” I said, exhaling in relief. “But how are you even here? The birds told me you were in the Shelter, about to be executed.”

  “Oh, they weren’t wrong. I was in there. The Warden nearly sent me to the skies. But I found a way out. You know, there’s always a way.”

  He flicked his tail, then gestured toward the Blowfish Man with his snout.

  “I found my way up the Old Rig ‘cause I figured a good kick would set me straight,” he said. “So, I went to this old guy’s stall. He used to hate my guts ‘cause I’d take some of his pufferfish—you know, to get that kick I needed.”

  “I remember. You told me that the dolphins showed you how to get that kick.”

  Lee nodded. “That’s right. But I was too weak to even snatch a fish and ended up nearly drowning in the tank. I guess seeing me half-dead changed his mind. He plucked me out of the water, cleaned me up, and, well… here I am. I owe him one.”

  With a sharp whistle, the Blowfish Man summoned Lee to his side. The dog obeyed without hesitation, his paws kicking up dust as he bounded over. His ears perked and tail wagged. He glanced back at me and called, “Come on, Page!”

  . I’ll be sending out announcements there.

  "follow author" down below, too.