Still at the veil the water unnaturally still, the mist around them so thick that they could see few meters away from the boat. David's eyes caught a movement in the water, his heart started pounding his mind racing that something might has come to haunt them again. But then he saw it, a figure partially submerge from the water. A woman. Her hair floated like dark tendrils red has wine, her face pale and motionless, but her eyes locked on his.
David gasped, grabbing James's arm. "Look! Down there!" He pointed, his voice trembling with urgency.
James squinted at the spot but shook his head. "There's nothing there, David."
"I saw her!" David insisted, his voice rising. "A woman. Right there, under the water!"
James didn't flinch. "It's the Veil. It's in your head. There's no one there."
David's grip tightened on James's arm. "I'm not imagining this. She was there. I swear it."
But James just stared at him, his expression unreadable. "David, we need to move. The longer we stay, the worse it gets."
David hesitated, his eyes darting back to the water. The figure was gone. But the image lingered, etched into his mind.
"She's real," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to James.
Moments later wind's begin to blow, whistling whispers into their ears whispers faint, indistinct but persistent. David tried to block them out, focusing on rowing through the dense mist, but the voices crept closer, growing clearer.
"David..."
He froze. It wasn't just a whisper, it was her voice. Elina's.
"James!" David hissed, gripping the side of the boat. "Did you hear that?"
James looked at him, his face tense. "Hear what?"
"She said my name," David muttered, his eyes darting around.
James shook his head and said again. "It's the Veil. Don't let it get in your head."
But the voice came again, clearer this time, carrying a strange mix of sorrow and urgency. "Daddy... help me."
David's breath hitched. "It's her. I know it's her."
"David, stop, you need to focus I know this is intense, but if we want to leave here alive we need to focus and don't let the veil get to us." James warned, but his voice trembled.
Before either could react, their shadows on the surface of the water shifted unnaturally. David's shadow seemed to rise, stretching unnaturally tall, its limbs moving as though alive. It bent over him, its "head" tilting curiously.
"James," David choked, pointing. "What is that?"
James turned, and his face drained of color. His own shadow mirrored the movement, but instead of matching his panic, it reached toward him as though to pull him under.
The whispers grew louder, more insistent. Now it wasn't just Elina's voice—it was James's voice, overlapping with others, some familiar, some foreign, all blending into a chilling chorus.
"David... you'll fail her."
"James... it's your fault."
"Give in."
"Come to us."
James swatted at the air as though batting away flies. "Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted, stumbling back in the boat.
The shadows writhed on the water, their movements erratic, unnatural. David's shadow twisted its "face" into a grotesque grin, then plunged into the water, as though to drag something back up.
"James, keep your focus!" David shouted, his voice cracking.
James's shadow mirrored his panic, reaching out and clawing at the surface of the water, until James screamed and threw himself backward in the boat, nearly tipping it.
"Don't look at them!" David yelled, grabbing James's arm.
But the whispers wouldn't stop, and the shadows wouldn't relent.
David clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the horizon. "We keep moving," he muttered, more to himself than to James. "We don't stop. We keep moving."
As they rowed on, the shadows slithered back into place, but their shapes no longer felt familiar. The whispers faded, but not completely, they lingered just at the edge of hearing, reminding them both that they were still being watched.
"What could be worst than this place", David yelled, seeing that the journal noted that the veil was just an intro to the terror of the uncharted sea. James on the other hand sat motionless on the board of the boat, processing the terror of what's happening to them.