Elle's POV
Darkness.
That was all she could see — thick, endless, and silent. Her body hung weightlessly in the water, suspended between fear and surrender.
The water was cold, wrapping around her like a shroud. Yet, strangely, the spot where she floated glowed faintly — as if the ocean itself refused to let her disappear. Her hair floated like silver threads, her skin pale under the dim light that seemed to come from nowhere.
She was naked. Vulnerable. Exposed.
Her lungs burned; every breathless second felt like an eternity. She wanted to move — to reach upward — but her limbs felt heavy, sluggish, almost bound by the weight of something unseen. Panic swelled in her chest.
I don't want to die.
Just as the thought echoed inside her, a hand broke through the darkness. Strong. Certain. Human.
A boy appeared — around her age — his wavy black hair moving like ink in the water. His grey eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. He swam toward her, closing the space between them.
He was bare too — unguarded, unashamed — and yet there was nothing indecent in it. It felt… pure. Familiar. As if she had known him across lifetimes.
When he pulled her into his arms, the fear bled away. The suffocation eased. Her heartbeat slowed, syncing with his. She could feel him — his warmth, his sorrow, his longing.
He leaned close, his lips brushing the edge of her ear.
"Elle."
Her body shivered — not from cold, but recognition.
Her eyes flew open.
White walls. Beeping monitors. The faint smell of antiseptic. She gasped for air and realized she was on a hospital bed.
A nurse startled nearby, rushing to her side. "Miss Deveraux! You're awake!"
Elle blinked, her vision blurry, trying to grasp where she was. Her chest ached faintly, her throat dry.
The nurse called out for the doctor, and within moments, two people in white coats entered, checking her vitals, murmuring medical terms she barely processed. They smiled at her gently.
"You're safe now, Miss Deveraux. We just need to keep you under observation for a day."
Elle nodded weakly, but her mind was elsewhere — underwater, with that boy.
Ellion.
The name pulsed inside her like a heartbeat. Not strange, not new — but remembered.
Of course. How could she have forgotten him? His voice, that warmth. But… why now? Why here?
Before she could linger on the thought, the door burst open.
"Elle!"
Amara ran inside, eyes already glistening, and threw her arms around Elle. "You scared us half to death!" she sobbed. "I thought— I thought—"
Elle gently rubbed her back. "I'm okay, Amara. I promise. I'm here."
Noah followed, leaning against the wall with a mock-serious expression. "You know, Elle, I was this close to giving you CPR myself. And trust me — you should be thankful it didn't come to that. I'm terrible at it."
A weak laugh escaped her lips. "Good to know I was spared that trauma."
Amara sniffled through a teary laugh. "Don't joke about it! We were so scared."
Behind them, Kai stood silently, his expression unreadable but his gaze steady. "You shouldn't take this lightly," he said quietly. "We thought we lost you."
Elle's smile faded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare everyone."
Amara sat beside her. "You don't remember anything, do you?"
Elle frowned, trying to recall. "I remember diving. Everyone was together. I was looking at the reef… and then—" her breath hitched. "I couldn't breathe. Everything went black."
Amara nodded, glancing at the others before continuing. "Giselle was the one who spotted you. She was on the deck and noticed you struggling near the surface. She shouted for help and dove in herself. The crew pulled you both up — she performed CPR before the medics came."
Elle's stomach turned. "Giselle saved me?"
"Yeah," Noah said softly. "She didn't even hesitate. But after that, she fainted. The doctors said she's in shock. They gave her morphine to calm her down — she's resting in the next room."
Elle looked away, her voice low. "I… don't remember removing my oxygen tank. When did I even do it?"
The room fell silent.
Noah scratched the back of his neck. "Maybe it malfunctioned? The police said they found your tank — they've sent it for testing."
"Police?"
Kai nodded. "They just want to be sure there wasn't any accident with the equipment."
Almost on cue, there was a knock on the door. Two officers stepped in — polite but serious. They asked Elle a series of questions: what she remembered before the dive, whether anyone touched her gear, how long she'd been underwater.
Elle told them everything honestly — or as much as she could remember. "I was swimming fine. Then I suddenly couldn't breathe. I tried to reach the surface… and then it all went blank."
They exchanged glances, thanked her for her cooperation, and promised to update her once the oxygen tank results came in.
After they left, silence filled the room again.
Elle leaned back on her pillow, exhaustion pressing down on her. When did I remove the tank? The question echoed in her mind, along with the image of Ellion's face — those grey eyes in the dark.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
It was Edric.
He stepped inside, composed as always — tall, dignified, with a quiet gravity that filled the room. His silver-streaked hair was neatly combed, his dark suit still creased from travel. His presence carried the comfort of home and the authority of someone who had watched her grow up.
"Miss Elle," he said gently, bowing slightly. "I came as soon as I heard."
Her eyes softened. "Edric… you didn't have to—"
"I did," he interrupted quietly. "When the manager called, I caught the first flight I could. I could not rest knowing you were hurt."
She smiled faintly. "I'm alright now. Truly."
His gaze flickered with relief and concern. "That's good to hear. But please, don't push yourself. Rest. The world can wait another day for you."
Elle chuckled softly. "You sound like Greta."
"She taught me well," he said, his lips curving slightly. "Now, I'll let you rest. I'll handle the arrangements for your discharge tomorrow."
He bowed again before stepping out.
As the door closed behind him, Elle's thoughts drifted back to the boy underwater — Ellion. The dream had felt too vivid, too real. Like a memory she wasn't supposed to have.
---
Vincent's POV
The ocean was calm that morning — deceptively calm.
Vincent dove beneath the surface, the world above fading into muted blues. The pressure against his chest, the rhythm of his breath — everything was steady. Until it wasn't.
He saw her then — Elle — moving gracefully through the water like she belonged to it. Her hair floated around her face, her body fluid and light. There was a serenity to her that made him forget everything else.
Then he noticed Clarisse swimming unusually close to her, eyes fixed on Elle with a strange intensity. His chest tightened. Something about it didn't sit right.
He looked away for a moment — something shiny near the reef caught his attention. Swimming closer, he saw a small shell, luminous and empty. It reminded him of her — beautiful, delicate, and holding something unknowable inside.
He picked it up, smiling faintly behind his mask. She'd like this, he thought. Maybe it'll make her smile again.
When he turned back, Elle was gone.
So was Kai. And Noah.
Panic surged through him like an electric current. His heart raced — a cold dread twisting inside him. He kicked upward, breaking through the surface, and that's when he saw the chaos.
People shouting. Crew members running. Amara crying. Giselle lying unconscious beside Elle's pale, still body.
For a moment, he froze. His mind went blank. Then came the sound — someone yelling Elle's name — and everything blurred after that.
He couldn't remember how he climbed onto the deck, how he changed, how he got to the hospital. Only that he carried the shell the entire time, gripping it so tightly it cut into his palm.
When he reached the corridor outside her room, he saw Amara and Noah stepping out, followed by Kai. Vincent stayed back, waiting. He could hear Elle's voice — faint, soft, alive.
Something inside him eased, even as the guilt refused to leave.
A man walked past him — tall, composed — the butler, he realized. Edric. Vincent had seen him before, always hovering protectively around Elle. Their eyes met briefly — Edric's expression calm but unreadable.
After a few moments, Edric stepped out, and Vincent finally entered.
Elle sat against her pillow, pale but smiling faintly. The sight hit him harder than he expected. Relief, guilt, affection — all tangled into something heavier.
He wanted to say something, anything, but words failed him.
You almost lost her, a voice whispered in his mind. And you didn't even know why.
He looked down at the shell in his hand — its surface gleaming faintly under the hospital light. Beautiful. Just like her. And just as hollow.
He closed his fist around it.
He'd find out what happened — no matter what it took.
---