Creating Civilization In My Private Island

"What...?" Kael whispers, wide-eyed. He glances at the glowing moss lining the cave, wondering if that's somehow responsible for this strange sensation. But the glow feels too soft, too distant to be healing him. It's something else.

He straightens, slowly moving through the water, and then it hits him. It's not the moss or the rocks that are glowing—it's the very water itself. A white, ethereal light swirls lazily around him, tangible yet elusive, like mist underwater. It clings to him in soft waves, brushing against his skin, flowing into his wounds and sealing them shut with warmth and energy.

"This... this is real," Kael mutters, his hand hovering in the water, watching the light pulse around his fingers. His body feels lighter, stronger. The exhaustion that gripped him moments ago is ebbing away, replaced by a sense of renewal, of power.

He instinctively sits cross-legged on the cave floor, closing his eyes as the light continues to drift toward him. His mind calms as he lets himself focus on the energy surrounding him. It feels like the very life force of the ocean, raw and ancient, filling every inch of the cave.

Without thinking, Kael opens himself to it. He absorbs the glowing energy like a starving beast, pulling it into his body. It floods his senses, tingling through his muscles and bones. The aches vanish. His strength returns, little by little, and with it comes something more—a deeper connection to the abyss around him, to the water itself.

He can feel it. The power coursing through him is more than just healing—it's changing him. His muscles pulse, growing more defined with every breath. His senses sharpen. The darkness around him seems less oppressive, as if his sight is adjusting to the deep, allowing him to see the faintest outlines of the cave's walls and the water beyond.

Kael's breathing steadies as he concentrates, pulling more of the light toward him. His mind drifts as his body soaks in the energy, and he can't help but marvel at the sensation. The fear, the exhaustion—all of it slips away as the power builds within him.

"I don't know what this is," he murmurs under his breath, "but I need it."

His hands clench into fists as the surge of strength grows. The water around him vibrates, reacting to the intensity of his new power. He feels alive—more alive than he's ever felt. His mind sharpens, and his instincts heighten.

Back at the village, the atmosphere is heavy, the usual vibrant energy replaced with silence. The water here is still and dark, reflecting the grief of those who've returned. Only half of the hunting party has made it back. Their forms are battered and bloodied, the once-proud warriors moving sluggishly through the gates, their eyes downcast.

Naida leads them, her face pale, the glint in her eyes gone. Her left arm hangs limply at her side, a deep gash running across her shoulder. Behind her, the others swim slowly, faces haunted by the weight of loss. Every movement seems to take immense effort, as though the sea itself is dragging them down.

Villagers rush out to meet them, their expressions quickly turning from relief to horror as they see the missing faces. Whispers ripple through the crowd, voices trembling with disbelief.

"Where's Taryn, Gorran? Where's Kael?" an elder asks, his voice breaking as he scans the group, searching for the familiar faces of the warriors who never returned.

Naida stops in front of him, unable to meet his eyes. Her lips tremble as she opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Her throat tightens, the weight of the truth almost too heavy to bear.

"They… they didn't make it," she finally says, her voice barely a whisper. Her words hang in the water, like a stone sinking into the depths.

A collective gasp echoes through the village, followed by stunned silence. The elder's face crumples as he closes his eyes, his hands shaking as he struggles to process the news. "No... This is a disaster." he mutters, his voice thick with sorrow.

Naida shakes her head, her gaze falling to the seafloor. "They fought... They gave everything," she continues, her voice growing steadier, though the pain lingers in every word. "Taryn and Gorran—they sacrificed themselves so the rest of us could escape. They faced the beast... they held it off while we fled."

Tears well up in her eyes, but she bites them back. "We tried to fight, but... it was too strong. We weren't prepared for what we faced out there."

As the village reels from the news, a ripple of movement stirs the crowd. Kael's mother, Mira, appears with a look of desperation etched across her face. Beside her, Kael's father, Eamon, limps heavily, his face hardened with the knowledge of a former hunter. Their youngest, Korin, helping his father walk, his wide eyes filled with hope and fear.

Mira's gaze darts around frantically, her voice trembling as she pushes through the gathered villagers. "Where is my son? Where is Kael?" Her voice cracks with worry, her eyes pleading with Naida.

Naida, already on the verge of breaking, can no longer hold it in. Tears spill from her eyes as she shakes her head. "I—I don't know." Her voice wavers, choking on the words. "The last we saw of him, he was… flung by that monster… into the abyss."

Mira's face pales. "The abyss?" she whispers, her voice barely audible. Tears well up in her eyes as she glances at her husband. "So… so he's not dead yet, right? He's still alive, right, husband?" Her voice is desperate, as though clinging to a sliver of hope.

Eamon's jaw tightens, his lips a thin line. He remains silent, his hand clenching at his side. As a former hunter, he knows the truth all too well—no one survives the abyss. But he can't bring himself to say it. Not to Mira. Not now.