Marina found herself standing within the familiar confines of their villa. The warmth of the familiar walls and the comfort of the known space clashed with an inexplicable sense of disquiet that pricked at her consciousness. A feeling of anxiety settled within her, uninvited and puzzling in its origin, leaving her to ponder the source of her unease.
The absence of anyone within the familiar space struck her as odd, almost eerily. A faint whisper of sound tickled her senses—a whisper so faint it could have been a trick of her imagination. It was as if someone, somewhere, was softly calling her name. Marina's brows furrowed in confusion, "Mommy?"
"Marina," the voice echoed, resonating louder and clearer this time, stirring a sense of curiosity and urgency within her, as it was not Maeve's voice.
Marina's steps led her instinctively towards the beckoning call emanating from the garden. "Daddy?"
With cautious steps, she ventured further, the door slammed behind her.
"The only daughter," it reverberated, each syllable laden with a sense of gravity and disquiet.
"A daughter, not a son…" Marina's steps faltered, a chill coursing down her spine. The air grew thick with an inexplicable tension, casting a shadow over the garden.
"No one needs you…"
Marina found herself pausing, her senses on high alert as she scanned the dimly lit garden for any sign of the enigmatic speaker.
"You are not a son of…" A sudden gust of wind swept through the tranquil garden, stirring the foliage into a frenzied dance. The once-calm breeze transformed into a malevolent force, causing the nearby bushes to writhe and thrash as if possessed by an unseen malevolence.
"No one needs you…"
Marina's feet propelled her into a sprint, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she attempted to flee the encroaching menace of the garden.
"Run away, run away little flower…"
However, with each hurried step she took, the once-familiar paths twisted and contorted, seeming to conspire against her, morphing into a labyrinthine trap.
"No one needs you…"
With a growing sense of desperation, she veered left and right, attempting to find an exit, but the garden seemed to warp and reshape itself, steering her deeper into its ominous clutches.
"This is not your place…Someone has replaced you…"
The air grew thick with an otherworldly chill, and the once-soothing ambience now exuded a palpable sense of malevolence, closing in around her like a menacing shroud. Marina's heart raced with fear. "No!"
Determined to break free from the garden's ominous grip, she pressed on, desperately seeking a way out from this inexplicable and nightmarish labyrinth. "No!"
She screamed in terror and her heart was beating harder and harder. She felt like she was about to fall, felt like she was drowning and had to fight for every breath. "Daddy!"
—
"No"
Sinbad, propelled by an instinct honed over years of parenthood, dashed swiftly to Marina's cabin upon hearing her distressed cry. The urgency of a father's concern etched across his face as he found her restlessly tossing in her sleep, trapped within the confines of a troubling dream from which she couldn't seem to awaken.
With a tenderness born of unconditional love, Sinbad gently enveloped Marina in his protective embrace, his voice a soothing melody amidst the turmoil that gripped her subconscious. "Shh, Marina, it's alright. Wake up, sweetheart," he murmured softly.
Marina jolted awake, her breathing difficult and her heart racing, trapped within the clutches of a harrowing nightmare that seemed to linger even in wakefulness. Despite her father's soothing whispers, the echoes of her distress reverberated, her panicked cries of "No!" a haunting echo in the room.
Sinbad persisted in his calming reassurances, his voice a steadfast presence amid the turmoil that had gripped her. "Shh, it's okay," he murmured softly, his comforting words a lifeline anchoring her to the present, striving to dispel the lingering tendrils of her distressing dream.
"Daddy?" Marina's voice quivered, the tendrils of her consciousness slowly reclaiming their hold as the haze of the nightmare began to recede.
"Yes, everything's fine," Sinbad reassured her with a tender tone, his steady presence a source of solace in the aftermath of her distressing dream. "It was just a bad dream," he continued.
Under the shelter of Sinbad's protective embrace, Marina felt a sense of security enveloping her, his reassuring hold akin to a shield warding off the lingering shadows of her nightmares. His gentle rocking provided a soothing rhythm, reminiscent of childhood days when his presence alone was enough to dispel any fears.
"It was just a bad dream. You can tell me if it helps," Sinbad encouraged, his voice a steady reassurance coaxing her to unburden herself.
"I don't remember anything," Marina fibbed softly, choosing to shield the unsettling details of her dream from her father's inquiry, preferring to bury the distressing episode deep within.
"Everything is fine," Sinbad murmured, his embrace offering a sense of comfort and safety, a silent vow to shield her from the echoes of her troubled sleep.
"Can you grab my hand?" Marina's request held a subtle plea, and Sinbad's smile revealed his understanding. He gently took her hand in his, the unspoken reassurance that she wasn't alone in this moment of vulnerability.
In the bustling port, tiny Marina darted through the throng of people, her small figure bobbing amidst the sea of bustling bodies. Maeve's urgent call sliced through the cacophony of noise, carrying a note of concern as she feared losing sight of her spirited daughter within the bustling crowd.
"Marina!" Maeve's voice echoed above the hustle and bustle, a plea threaded with worry. "You're to hold Daddy's hand," she called out.
Responding promptly to her mother's instruction, the young girl pivoted swiftly, her determined steps leading her to her father's side. With a determined grip, she clasped Sinbad's hand, her childish voice ringing out, "Daddy, I'll grab your hand!"
Sinbad, crouching down to meet his daughter's earnest gaze, met her declaration with a playful yet tender exchange. "No, then I'll grab yours," he countered, his voice carrying a hint of playful warmth.
"But it makes no difference," protested Marina, her innocent conviction fueling her assertion.
Sinbad smiled gently, "There is a difference," he explained patiently, his tone gentle yet firm. "You're a tiny child. You could fasten my hand if you were scared of something, for example," he elaborated.
"And I will never, ever let go of yours. No matter what happens," Sinbad promised, his words carrying the weight of a vow, instilling in Marina a sense of unwavering protection and security.
Sinbad remained by Marina's side, cradling her gently until her rhythmic breaths signalled a return to peaceful slumber. With a fatherly gaze filled with tenderness, he ensured she was in a serene state before quietly slipping out of the cabin.
Stepping onto the deck, the cool night air enveloped him, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the enclosed cabin. However, a pervasive unease lingered within him, a sense that something amiss loomed on the horizon.
As he scanned the deck, his sharp eyes honed in on an unexpected figure—Zeiken, who ought to have been resting at this hour, stood in the shadows, a silhouette against the moonlit night.
—
Zeiken attempted to steady his breath and calm the rapid thudding of his heart, his mind still reeling from being abruptly awakened by Marina's distressing screams. He dismissed her outcry as mere attention-seeking behaviour, a characteristic trait of the spirited girl. However, despite attributing his awakening to her, he couldn't shake off the haunting remnants of his own unsettling dream.
As he tried to decipher the fragments of his disrupted slumber, an ominous voice echoed persistently in his mind, a disconcerting whisper that lingered even in wakefulness. 'A Mongrel... A Stray... You are not like her,' the unsettling words echoed within, leaving an indelible unease.
"Are you all right?" Sinbad's concern pierced through Zeiken's thoughts, jolting him out of his reverie. The boy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. "You look like you saw a ghost?"
"Rather heard one." Zeiken responded with a forced nonchalance, attempting to brush off the weight of his unsettling thoughts. "Is everything all right with Marina?" He asked, implying that he was talking about her screams, hoping to divert the conversation away from his own unsettling night.
"All is well." Sinbad replied, scanning the boy, who was clearly hiding something.
"That's good. So, if you don't mind I'll try to sleep again." Zeikien tried to justify himself.
Accepting Zeiken's attempt to retreat, Sinbad nodded understandingly, though a lingering suspicion shadowed his gaze as he observed the boy's departure.
With a watchful eye, Sinbad remained on deck for a moment longer, the events of the night casting a veil of uncertainty over the peaceful voyage. His mind lingered, pondering the unsettling echoes of Marina's screams and the cryptic unease woven into Zeiken's demeanour.
Sinbad's heart weighed heavy with the absence of Maeve, a deep longing for her presence palpable in the quiet of the night. Gazing up at the twinkling stars that adorned the canvas of the sky, he found himself lost.
In the solitude of the moment, a wave of concern for Maeve washed over him. He wished for her comforting presence beside him, yearning for the reassurance of her steady guidance amidst the uncertainties that surrounded them. She would know what was going on with the children.
—
Maeve emerged from the bathroom, her steps carrying her into the bedroom, where she caught sight of the dog comfortably lounging on the bed.
"The master wouldn't be pleased with you lounging on the bed," she remarked, a hint of playful reproach lacing her words. However, her disapproval quickly softened into a gentle smile as she approached the canine companion.
"But then again, the master isn't here," she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of affection and amusement. With a tender stroke, she caressed the dog's fur.
Maeve settled onto the bed, her frame enveloped by the familiar comfort of Sinbad's bed side, where the faint traces of his presence lingered within the bedding.
Sinbad always slept closer to the window. Firouz once had told her that it's coded into a man's instinct that he chooses the part of the bed that is closer to the window, the front door, on the side of a potential threat.
Reflecting on Firouz's observation, her eyes wandered to the window, where the veil of night obscured the outside world. A question lingered within her thoughts, a seed of doubt sown by the silent darkness outside. Was there indeed a looming threat concealed in the obsidian cloak of the night?
A fleeting pang of uncertainty whispered within her, questioning the decisions she had made, wondering if she had erred in sending her loved ones away from the city's possible perils.
Here she was again, in her empty bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing she was somewhere else instead.
Maeve sensed an unnerving foreboding creeping into her thoughts, a primal fear for the safety of their children. She felt that something bad was happening between Marina and Zeiken. A daunting awareness tugged at her senses, an intangible darkness coalescing somewhere beyond her immediate reach. It was an unsettling force, one she hadn't sensed in years, yet remained nameless and elusive.
In the stillness of the night, she whispered silent reassurances to herself, a mantra of inner strength against the looming unknown. Her thoughts shifted to the children, a maternal instinct urging her to shield them from any impending turmoil. Whether it's her own daughter or the foster.
As she closed her eyes, a determination sparked deep within her, an unspoken vow to face whatever shadows lurked in the periphery of her consciousness. With a resolute heart, Maeve embraced the enduring belief that her resilience and unwavering spirit would guide her through the unknown trials that awaited as it always had somehow.
The night wrapped her in its comforting veil, offering a fleeting respite from the mounting uncertainties. Maeve held onto the fragile thread of hope, trusting in her resilience to navigate the impending challenges, as she allowed the embrace of sleep to gently coax her into its tranquil embrace.