Chapter 31: Higher Than The Sun - Part 1

"Finally, some fresh air." Will stretched his arms above his head, shaking off the stiffness in his muscles. Behind him, Sonia stepped out from the pressure chamber, following him onto the deck of the Washington, which sailed steadily through the waves. The crashing swells slapped against the hull, sending a fine mist into the air.

"You’re awfully relaxed," Sonia muttered, leaning on the rail with her arms draped over it, eyes lost in the endless waves. The searchlights mounted on the hull’s cameras refracted through the mist, scattering tiny, fleeting rainbows in the air.

"You’re the one who’s tense," Will remarked, stepping beside her. "I’ve noticed you’ve been different since the green-haired kid came aboard."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. You just seem…distracted. Like you’ve got a lot on your mind." He ruffled his damp brown hair with a shrug.

"There is something inside my friend’s body, and this ship is hiding more secrets than the ocean beneath it." Her voice was sharp, but there was envy beneath it. "I wish I could be as carefree as you."

Will glanced sideways. "You told me yourself, Sonia. You said we could trust Rain. If he says knowing what’s in the engine room would get us killed, I believe him."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The same dream. Night after night, the same dream. She could recall every detail by now.

"Are you still dreaming?" she asked suddenly.

Will’s gaze met hers. "The hallucinations and nightmares I told you about? Like I said, that was from the first time I killed someone. You don’t just forget something like that."

"So you’re sure you haven’t had your memories tampered with? Or…do you just not believe me?" Her eyes narrowed in accusation.

"Come on," he sighed, "of course I trust you. But when we escaped the Egyptian troops and took that secret corridor, it was just a hallway. Empty. There weren’t any…flesh walls you kept talking about."

She remembered it vividly. The assault on the Washington at Giza, a month ago. The Egyptians had them surrounded. She’d found the hidden door during a blackout. Desperate, they fled through a winding corridor.

She remembered the path—every twist and turn. She could swear they walked for an hour, only to emerge back through the same entrance they had entered.

Will was right. It was empty. No walls of flesh. No grotesque masses like she’d claimed.

Her eyes fell back to the waves. "That corridor was…wrong. We walked straight through it—no splits, no branches. So how did we end up back at the entrance?"

Will fell silent. Together, they watched the sea slip past.

"But…" he began softly, "that’s not really what’s been eating you, is it?"

No. No, it wasn’t.

‘If this ship really belonged to the U.S. Navy, they’d never let a Soviet like you aboard, Ms. Sonia.’

The memory came unbidden, a whisper from the past. Holland’s voice. Holland, who nearly ended her life, branding her a Soviet spy—until Esther had saved her.

Esther had said it was impossible for her to transmit radio signals from Russia to the U.S. without a relay station. That was why the frequency her father had given her never worked. Esther had claimed it was all just a ruse—just her father’s way of fostering Sonia’s interest in radio from a young age.

It made sense, back then. Perhaps because believing it was her only way to survive Holland’s bullet.

But Sonia never stopped wondering. Never stopped doubting.

Years. She had spent years chasing those frequencies. Checking, scanning, searching. For her, they were more than radio waves. They were her mission.

If she could contact the motherland, if she could reach her homeland—Her family might get to return to their rightful birthplace. Might be welcomed back as heroes, honored for their sacrifice. Freed from hardship and exile.

That hope—that need—had driven her into the heart of this madness.

It had led her to the song from the deep.It had led her aboard the Washington.

"Hey," Will’s voice nudged her back to the present. "You’re spacing out again." His brow furrowed. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Sonia’s voice was soft, distant. "If you believed in something with all your heart…and found out it might be a lie…what would you do?"

Will blinked. "The hell kinda question is that?" he muttered but then paused, his expression darkening in thought. "I guess… I’d have to find out for myself. Prove what’s real."

"And if there was no way to prove it?"

Will’s answer was firm. "Then I’d keep believing. If you can’t prove it either way, then what you choose to believe is what matters. I’d rather hold on to what I believe than let doubt hollow me out."

Her nod was faint. Lost.

Will tilted his head. "Is that what’s been on your mind this whole time?"

Sonia’s eyes didn’t meet his. They fixed on the horizon, on something distant, something growing.

"No," she said quietly. "It’s that."

Will followed her gaze. His jaw tensed.

"Right," he muttered. "Let’s just hope there aren’t any bloodthirsty islanders or deep-sea monsters waiting for us."

The two stood side by side, gripping the cold railing, their eyes locked on the looming landmass ahead. The island was getting closer. And the Washington was heading straight for it.

…

"That's Kyushu Island—the largest trading port in the Eastern Sea and the second-largest island of Saipan," Esther's father began, his academic enthusiasm filling the room as Sonia and Will entered the control room.

"In short," Holland interrupted, his tone flat with impatience, "we dock, restock for three weeks, drop the green-haired kid, and head straight across the open sea to Alaska. No stops."

Matthew rubbed his beard, his voice heavy with doubt. "Crossing into Saipan territory now? They're readying for war with the Soviets."

Holland glanced at Sonia, inviting her to share her findings.

"According to a broadcast I intercepted from the African Confederation last week," she began, her voice crisp with certainty, "Kyushu declared independence about two months ago. I've logged multiple docking reports since then. It’s consistent."

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Will murmured, barely audible, "Eavesdropper," earning himself a sharp pinch from Sonia.

Hector’s voice cut through the air, low and grim. "If the Soviets hit Saipan, Alaska’s next. And if they seize the oil rigs there, we lose any shot at finding that damned Moonlight Sonata signal."

"Exactly why we cut through the open sea," Holland said quietly.

Esther, silent until now, shifted nervously. "You want to cross the Abyss? Three weeks straight?"

The Abyss—the realm of impossible depths, a void so deep that only drones dared to probe it. Sailors whispered about its horrors: unseen leviathans, ships swallowed whole without a trace.

Holland chuckled at her fear. "You’ve been listening to too many sailor’s tales. Open waters are vast—so vast, that meeting a sea beast is less likely than hitting a bird in a storm."

Esther’s lips pressed tight. "But some creatures hunt at the surface."

Matthew chimed in, his voice steady. "Been through the Abyss with Holland more times than I can count, girl. It's just water. Deep, but still water."

Esther’s next words came so softly that only Sonia heard: “But...”

Holland seemed satisfied with her silence and stood. "Prepare to dock. Matthew, Hector—you’re with me for supplies. Esther, if you go ashore, take Rain with you."

But Sonia wasn’t listening to the captain. Her eyes stayed fixed on Esther’s face—on the tension that creased her brow, the fear that shadowed her eyes.

The others thought she feared sailor’s tales—phantoms from the deep.

But Sonia knew the truth.

Esther’s fear was something else entirely.

Because ‘something’ inside Esther was a creature of the deep.

And if there were more of its kind in the Abyss—

Would they sense her?

Would they come for her?

…

"Whoa..." Esther's wide eyes swept over the unfamiliar surroundings, her voice breathless with awe. Sonia mirrored her wonder.

The Kyushu Island port, though reminiscent of Washington, felt entirely foreign. White timber buildings—unlike any Sonia had seen—lined the streets, their dark ironwood roofs slanting into sharp triangles. None rose above two stories, leaving the rolling mossy hills beyond clearly visible. Lantern-bearing farmers tended to grazing cattle in the distance.

The townsfolk wore intricately draped silk robes, some trailing the ground like woven waterfalls. Men gathered their hair into tight knots, while women adorned elaborate hairpins, each a unique statement of craft.

“First time on Saipan?” Will teased, noting their astonishment.

“You’ve been here?” Sonia asked, surprised.

“A lifetime ago,” he replied, a wistful smile touching his lips. “My parents brought me here when I was little. It’s barely changed.”

Esther’s gaze lingered on the sharp, sloping rooftops, their carved eaves depicting serpentine forms. “Why are their roofs so steep?” she wondered aloud.

Will chuckled. “Funny. I asked the same thing when I was a kid.” He grinned wider at her narrowed glare. “It’s for the ‘snow.’”

“Snow?” Esther and Sonia echoed, puzzled.

“I never saw it myself, but my mother told me—it falls from above, blanketing the whole island.” Will pointed upward.

Both women instinctively tilted their heads, searching the cavernous darkness above.

No one knew how high the Abyss's ceiling truly reached—hundreds of meters at least. No ship had ever reached it. And no one knew what mysteries loomed beyond.

“Something falling from a cave roof?” Sonia scoffed, her eyes skeptical. “Will, how old do you think I am?”

“It’s what my mom said!” he protested, face flushed. “Could be just a sailor’s tale for all I know!”

“Maybe,” Esther offered thoughtfully, “it’s symbolic. A design born from old beliefs—like how Giza’s artisans carved their walls to invite fortune.”

Her reasoning, steeped in logic, earned nods of agreement from both Will and Sonia.

As they wandered deeper into the port, their conversation shifted to the culture of Saipan—its myths, its history, its artistry. Laughter and curiosity colored their steps.

But behind them, silent as a shadow, Rain followed.

…

"A real meadow!" Esther exclaimed, kicking off her leather boots and bounding barefoot into the mossy field. Sonia, more hesitant, slipped off her own shoes, her toes meeting the cool, damp surface. She flinched at the slick, ticklish sensation but soon tried again, discovering its soft, spongy texture beneath her feet.

"If the whole Sunless World was covered in this stuff," Will chuckled as he strolled barefoot across the moss, "we wouldn’t need those clunky boots to survive walking on stone." He grinned at Sonia’s discomfort.

"What’s so funny?" she shot back, wrinkling her nose. "It’s wet…and gross."

Like flesh.

The memory of the engine room's horrors flashed through her mind, and she quickly shook it away.

The group had left the docks, climbing a mossy hill that offered a sweeping view of the glowing port city below. The lights of anchored ships sparkled like stars on the dark water.

“Beautiful,” Esther said softly.

Sonia nodded. “Yeah… it is.”

They settled into the moss—Esther and Sonia swapping guesses about ship origins, Will sprawled lazily on his back, and Rain silently tending his blade. For the first time since it happened, Sonia felt a familiar warmth—a return to easy conversation with Esther. She had nearly forgotten how good it felt to debate, to laugh, to hear Esther’s clever theories.

Sonia studied her closely, searching for cracks—signs that ‘something else’ was wearing Esther’s skin. But the girl before her was the same curious, sharp-tongued Esther she had always known.

“That’s the Victoria, a British submersible,” Esther explained, her voice bright with excitement. “Heavy plating and surface weapons make it more a hybrid warship than a proper submarine. But the Brits rely more on surface fleets than submersibles anyway.” She paused, catching Sonia’s amused expression. “What?”

“Nothing.” Sonia stifled a grin. “Keep going.”

Esther scowled playfully but continued her lecture.

Then—

Shouts. Raised voices, urgent and sharp, echoing from beyond the hill.

“What’s going on?” Esther sprang up, craning her neck toward the commotion.

Sonia narrowed her eyes. “From experience? Nothing we want to be part of.” But she felt the same tugging curiosity.

“Just a peek,” Esther pleaded, her eyes wide with mischief. “Please?”

Sonia sighed—definitely the same Esther. Nudging Will awake with her foot, she watched him jolt up in confusion. Meanwhile, Rain, already alert, slid his blade back into its sheath.

Without a word, they followed the noise—because some instincts, no matter how foolish, were impossible to ignore.

…

As they descended the hill, Sonia spotted the commotion—a tense standoff at the village's stone-paved entrance. A mob of villagers jeered at a lone, disheveled man facing them.

"What's happening?" Sonia whispered.

Will, translating from Zen, muttered, "'Get out, traitor!' 'Spy!' 'You're insane!' And those are the polite ones."

The man—a stocky figure with graying hair, a bushy beard, and wire-framed glasses—raised his hands, pleading in English. "I can help you—all of you! But I need your help first! Please, listen to me!"

A villager spat at his feet. "Save the world? Nice lie, comrade. Distract us while your Soviet friends attack?"

"Forget about those! What I’ve found could save us all!" The man dropped to his knees. "Please!"

The crowd dispersed, leaving curses and cold stares in their wake. Yet, the man remained—defeated, but unbroken.

Esther, eyes shining with curiosity, spoke first. "Are you... an astronomer?"

The man sighed. "Once. Ivan Glushakov, formerly of Moscow University. I came seeking help. But they won’t aid a Soviet astronomer."

"Astronomer!?" Esther's excitement was electric. Sonia, less enthused, narrowed her eyes. Astronomy—mocked by scholars, labeled fiction, a relic of the old world’s myths.

"Why are you here?" Esther pressed.

"To finish an experiment—one that could change the world," Ivan declared, his voice brimming with fervor.

Will’s eyes narrowed. "What kind of experiment?"

Ivan’s answer came, proud and defiant: "To build a new sun."

A stunned silence.

"You... know what a sun is, don’t you? The star that once lit the old world?"

Sonia’s voice was dry. "We’ve heard of it. But who are you, really?"

He straightened. "Ivan Glushakov. Astronomer. Exiled. Branded a fool for daring to dream the impossible—nuclear fusion. Creating a star, like the one that once warmed our skies." His voice grew wistful, then weary. "But the university cast me out. I need your help to open the old research lab. There’s something inside—something I need to finish my work."

Sonia’s instincts screamed disbelief. The villagers' hostility made sense. A foreigner—an enemy—spouting madness about creating a sun. It sounded insane.

But then she saw Esther’s face—hopeful, hungry for knowledge. Will, reluctant but willing. Rainn, impassive, leaving the choice to her.

Was it curiosity? Pity for the broken man before them? Or something else entirely?

Sonia met Ivan’s eyes. "Show us the lab."