Chapter Text
The island wasn’t what Cosmo had expected. When his family first arrived, he thought it would be like the picture books his parents used to show him—bright skies, soft sands, and endless days filled with adventure. But this place was… different. The skies were often overcast, with clouds that hung low and heavy, and the island seemed untamed, wild. The people, though kind to his parents, were intimidating. Many of them had scars across their faces or rough, calloused hands that looked like they’d seen too many years of hard work. Yet they carried themselves with a strange, quiet kindness, helping Cosmo’s family unpack and settle in without asking for anything in return.
Their new home was a small wooden cottage on the edge of the forest. The salty breeze from the ocean swept through every crack and crevice of the house, leaving everything slightly damp no matter how much Cosmo’s parents tried to keep it dry. The beach stretched out just beyond their yard, its white sands meeting deep, dark waters. Cosmo thought it was beautiful in a lonely sort of way, though it made him miss the soft streams and quiet streets of their old home even more.
His parents worked tirelessly in their new bakery, trying to build a life from scratch. The islanders, as intimidating as they looked, were frequent customers, bringing coins or bartering goods in exchange for bread and pastries. Cosmo would watch them from the doorway sometimes. They smiled at his parents, always polite, but their voices carried hints of sadness or weariness. His parents whispered at night when they thought he was asleep. He caught pieces of their conversations—how much money they still needed, how hard it was to make ends meet.
Cosmo didn’t tell them how much he missed their old home. He didn’t want to add to their worries. Instead, he spent his days wandering, trying to make sense of this strange new place. The other kids on the island often played together in the clearing by the forest, but Cosmo never joined them. Their games were loud and chaotic, full of rules he didn’t understand, and whenever he tried to approach, they would stare at him like he didn’t belong.
So he stayed on the edges, wandering the beach alone. The shoreline became his haven, a quiet place where he could dig his toes into the sand and let the roar of the waves drown out his thoughts. He collected shells and shiny bits of sea glass, piling them into a small wooden box he kept hidden under his bed. Sometimes, he’d find something special—a perfectly round pebble or a piece of driftwood shaped like a heart—and he’d hold it tightly, pretending it was a piece of his old life.
One cloudy afternoon, as Cosmo crouched by the water, examining a jagged piece of coral, he heard voices behind him.
“Hey, newbie!” a boy’s voice called out, loud and teasing. Cosmo turned to see two boys walking toward him.
The first boy had wild, messy hair and a grin that seemed permanently plastered on his face. “What’re you doing out here? Collecting seashells for your mom? Oh wait, don’t tell me—you’re looking for buried treasure!” He laughed at his own joke, and Cosmo blinked, unsure how to respond.
“That’s Finn,” the second boy said, his voice sharp and unimpressed. He was taller, with a permanent scowl and arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.”
“An idiot with killer jokes, thank you very much,” Finn shot back, pretending to look offended.
Cosmo looked between them, clutching his coral like it might protect him. “I… I was just looking for shells,” he mumbled.
Finn crouched beside him, examining the piece of coral with exaggerated interest. “Oooh, fancy. You’re really making waves here! Get it? Waves? Like the ocean?” He snickered, clearly pleased with himself.
“Stop wasting time,” the taller boy snapped. He turned to Cosmo, his scowl deepening. “Listen, I don’t like newbies. You’re all clueless, always sticking your noses where they don’t belong. But even you don’t deserve to get yourself killed. So here’s your warning: don’t go too far out into the ocean.”
Cosmo tilted his head, confused. “Why not?”
Finn’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with theatrical excitement. “Because,” he said, leaning in close like he was about to share the world’s best secret, “there are monsters out there. Big, scary ones. They’ll drag you under, and you’ll never come back.”
Cosmo’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, the taller boy snorted. “Don’t listen to his stupid stories,” he said. “But he’s not entirely wrong. The water’s dangerous. There are currents that’ll pull you out faster than you can blink. And if that doesn’t get you, something else might.”
“Something else like what?” Cosmo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The taller boy narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Just stay close to shore. We don’t need another idiot disappearing.”
Finn gave Cosmo a playful pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, newbie. Stick to collecting your seashells and you’ll be fine. Unless, of course, one of them turns out to be cursed! Ha! Can you imagine?”
Cosmo didn’t laugh. He mumbled a quiet thank you and turned back to the water, hoping they’d take the hint and leave. Finn lingered for a moment, making another bad pun about crabs, before the taller boy finally dragged him away.
As their voices faded into the distance, Cosmo let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He glanced at the ocean, its waves dark and churning under the cloudy sky. Was it really as dangerous as they said? Or were they just trying to scare him?
Either way, he decided he’d be more careful. But as the days passed and the sun returned, painting the water with golden light, Cosmo couldn’t resist its pull. He kept going back to the beach, searching for treasures, letting the waves whisper their secrets as if nothing in the world could go wrong.
The scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries filled the small bakery every morning as Cosmo’s parents worked tirelessly to keep their business alive. Cosmo had taken to staying close to them, helping in any way his small hands could manage—kneading dough, sprinkling sugar on top of buns, or carefully wrapping loaves for customers. His parents were patient teachers, guiding him with soft words and gentle corrections.
Every day, as the sun began to rise higher in the sky, the fishermen would return from the sea. Their small wooden boats, crusted with salt and barnacles, lined the docks like tired warriors coming home. The men and women who disembarked from them were loud and full of energy, their voices carrying over the quiet hum of the village. They came to the bakery in waves, eager for something warm and filling after hours spent battling the unpredictable ocean.
Cosmo often peeked out from behind the counter, watching the fishermen as they crowded into the shop. They were rough-looking, their faces weathered by sun and sea, with hands that seemed too big and clumsy to hold something as delicate as a pastry. But they laughed loudly, slapped each other on the back, and shared stories that made the whole room burst into laughter.
“Caught a fish as big as my boat today!” one man declared, holding his arms wide to illustrate.
“You mean as big as your mouth,” another teased, earning a round of guffaws.
Cosmo’s parents welcomed them all with easy smiles. His mother, ever graceful, served steaming cups of tea and trays of sweet rolls, while his father worked the ovens in the back, his deep voice joining in the conversations every now and then.
“Tell us, Jory,” his mother said one afternoon, pouring tea for an older fisherman. “What was it like out there today?”
Jory leaned back in his chair, chewing on a piece of bread. “Rough,” he said, his voice gravelly from years of yelling over the waves. “But worth it. Pulled in a net full of mackerel just before the storm hit. Barely made it back in time.”
Cosmo listened quietly as he worked, his small hands dusted with flour. The fishermen’s stories fascinated him, though he was too shy to join in the laughter or ask questions. He liked the way they talked about the sea, as if it were alive—a friend one day, an enemy the next. But no matter how dangerous it sounded, there was a spark in their eyes when they spoke about it, a kind of love that Cosmo didn’t fully understand.
There was one man, though, who always caught Cosmo’s attention more than the others. He wasn’t as loud or boisterous as the rest, but something about him made people listen when he spoke. He was tall and thin, with hair the color of driftwood and eyes as sharp as a gull’s. His name was Callen, and he had a way of weaving stories that made even the roughest fishermen fall silent.
Callen often came to the bakery around lunchtime, sitting at the same table by the window. He wasn’t like the others who told tales of giant fish or near-death experiences. Instead, he spoke of the faraway places he had seen, islands where the sand sparkled like gold and the water was so clear you could see straight to the bottom.
“I sailed out past the point last week,” he said one afternoon, breaking off a piece of bread. “Found a spot where the water turns a color you wouldn’t believe. Like the sky after a storm. And the fish there—they’re bigger than anything you’ll find close to shore. Smart, too. They don’t just swim into your nets; you’ve got to outthink them.”
Cosmo, who had been quietly sweeping the floor, paused to listen. He tried not to make it obvious, but his broomstrokes slowed as he leaned closer to the table.
“Did you catch any?” one of the fishermen asked, leaning forward.
Callen grinned, a flash of white teeth against his sun-darkened skin. “Of course I did. Took me half the day, but I brought back enough to fill three baskets. Best part is, no one else knows about that spot yet.”
The other men laughed, shaking their heads in disbelief, but Cosmo’s mind was already far away, imagining a secret place where the water turned magical colors and fish were clever enough to play tricks on humans.
From that day on, Cosmo found himself looking forward to Callen’s visits. He didn’t have the courage to talk to him, but he listened intently, soaking up every detail of the man’s adventures. Callen seemed to notice, sometimes glancing in Cosmo’s direction and giving him a small, knowing smile.
“You like the sea, kid?” he asked one day, catching Cosmo off guard.
Cosmo froze, clutching the tray of bread he was carrying. “I… I don’t know,” he stammered.
Callen chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You should. There’s no better place in the world. It’s wild and free, and if you’re lucky, it’ll show you things no one else gets to see.”
Cosmo nodded quickly, not trusting himself to say anything more.
Later, as he walked along the beach, picking up shells and shiny rocks like always, he thought about Callen’s words. He wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to go out on the water, to see the places Callen described. For now, the beach was enough, but a small part of him couldn’t help but dream of something more—something beyond the horizon, waiting just for him.