The ocean swallowed me whole as I descended into the abyss. The light above faded, surrendering to the endless black stretching in all directions. My oxygen gauge ticked downward—a quiet but insistent reminder of time slipping through my fingers. But I was ready for this.
I was a diver, an explorer of the unknown, a seeker of secrets buried beneath the waves. And today, I had found something extraordinary.
An ancient wreck lay before me, half-buried in the ocean floor, shrouded in mystery. The ship’s name had long since faded, its skeletal remains resting undisturbed for God knows how long.
With slow, deliberate strokes, I maneuvered through its broken frame, my flashlight cutting through the murky water. Schools of fish scattered at my approach. The wooden beams groaned under the crushing weight of the deep, their voices whispering warnings I had no intention of heeding.
Then, my light flickered over something unnatural—a box.
It sat half-buried beneath a tangle of seaweed and debris. Unlike the decaying ruin around it, the chest was eerily untouched by time. Its metal hinges bore only the faintest traces of rust, its surface smooth and unmarked. Treasure? A relic? My gloved hands trembled as I brushed away the silt, prying it loose.
The ocean rumbled.
A deep, guttural vibration rippled through the wreckage. The water stirred violently, thick with disturbed sand. And then—a shadow moved.
Something massive. Something alive.
I turned, my heart hammering. A tendril shot forward, coiling around my leg. Another lashed at my arm. My body jerked backward, the chest tumbling from my grip. I screamed, but the water swallowed the sound.
I fought. But the thing was stronger.
The pressure around my limbs tightened as I was dragged downward, spiraling into the abyss. My vision blurred, my oxygen dwindling. My mind clawed at the edges of reason—
Then, everything went black.
I woke up.
My breathing was steady. My oxygen tank was full. My flashlight flickered on without hesitation.
I was floating at the shipwreck’s entrance.
A wave of confusion crashed over me. Hadn’t I already been inside?
Shaking off the unease, I reached for my dive log, clipped securely to my vest. Empty. No notes. No records of my descent.
Had I imagined it?
I turned toward the wreck. It loomed in the darkness, untouched. Waiting.
Something in me stirred—a pull, an irresistible compulsion.
I had to go inside.
Kicking forward, I swam through the ship’s skeletal remains. The deep pressed against me in a heavy silence. My light swept across the walls, revealing familiar sights—collapsed beams, rusted metal, the same swirling schools of fish.
And then—there it was.
The chest.
Half-buried. Pristine. Waiting.
My breath hitched. My hands trembled as I reached forward, brushing away the sediment, prying it loose.
A low, resonant rumble.
The water trembled. Sand swirled.
A shadow moved.
I turned, a chill crawling up my spine. A tendril lashed out, coiling around my leg. Another wrapped around my arm. My body jerked backward, the chest slipping from my fingers.
I struggled, fought, screamed—
Everything went black.
I woke up.
Floating.
At the entrance.
The shipwreck loomed before me. Untouched. Waiting.
Dread pooled in my stomach. My hands clenched around the dive log. I flipped it open.
Blank.
My flashlight flickered as I turned toward the wreck.
I had to go inside.
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