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(Naomi & Linda) The boat rocked slightly as it glided over the last stretch of ocean. Aralith rose up ahead, an irregular mass of green cliffs and pale sand framed by the morning sun, standing alone in a calm sea. From a distance, it did not look threatening. It was simply forgotten. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button here a hundred years ago and no one had touched it since.
Naomi leaned over the side of the boat, her hair tousled by the wind and salt spray, her grin wide with anticipation.
"Well," she said, stretching out her arms, "it's not exactly Atlantis, but it'll do."
Linda didn't answer immediately. She stood behind her sister, holding the folded map to her chest, her eyes scanning the coastline as if trying to move when she wasn't looking.
"Looks like a pile of overgrown broccoli," she finally muttered.
Naomi laughed. "Broccoli? What kind of dramatic island fantasy do you live in?"
"Dramatic? This whole expedition was your idea, Ms 'Follow the Mystery Map'. I'm just here to make sure you don't fall off a cliff or try to befriend a snake."
"Snakes are misunderstood," Naomi replied cheerfully. "Unlike Dorian, who is as strange as he looks."
They both turned to look at the man steering the boat, Dorian, their silent guide. He hadn't said much since agreeing to take them. Sun-worn skin, an expression like weathered stone, and a look in his eyes as if he would rather be anywhere else. Both hands on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the shore ahead as if he had a personal grudge against it.
"Seriously," Linda whispered. "Did he say anything normal to you?"
Naomi nodded solemnly. "Silence is the order of the day here," she said. That's what they say about small talk."
Linda blinked. "That's... comforting."
"I know, right? I love that cryptic energy, like something out of a low budget pirate film."
Naomi smiled and leaned back against the wind, letting the salty air hit her face. "God, this is going to be great. Just the two of us, probably a cursed island and no internet."
"Sounds like a great time to reflect on all the bad decisions in my life," Linda muttered.
They reached the island just before midday. Dorian didn't dock at a jetty - there was no jetty. He steered the boat into a shallow bay, stopped the engine and handed Naomi a frayed rope without a word.
Naomi took it, tied it to a half-buried tree root and looked at him. "That's it? No survival tips? No last minute wisdom?"
Dorian looked at the sisters, then at the island.
"Good luck," he said. Then, as if he'd said too much, he turned to check the engine.
Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you staying for lunch?"
The man didn't answer.
Linda leaned over. "Let's go before he changes his mind and throws us out."
They pulled their rucksacks ashore, the boat rocking gently behind them. Dorian never looked up.
When they reached the beach, Naomi walked in a slow circle. The sand was soft beneath their feet, the water was crystal clear, and the forest behind them was full of unfamiliar trees. There was no sign of recent life. No footprints. No wrappers. No plastic bottles. Not even driftwood.
Linda put down her bag and looked up at the sky. "It's a strange feeling..."
Naomi rolled her eyes. "It's called nature, Linda. You've only been spoiled by takeaways and pavements."
"It's so quiet," Linda added, kneeling down to open her bag. "No birds. No insects. No nothing."
Naomi spread her arms wide. "That's what I'm talking about - the silence is the best part."
"Or the worst," Linda said, already pulling out her satellite phone. "Assuming this thing works."
Naomi knelt beside her. "Why are you always so worried? Just breathe in. Smell it?"
Linda sniffed. "Salt and wet leaves."
"Exactly. Pure adventure."
Linda looked to the side. "You'll get us both killed."
"More likely we'll be slightly injured and dramatically rescued. Maybe by a shirtless man."
They made camp near the tree line. Naomi was handy with a tent - years of walking had made her quick. Linda concentrated on setting up supplies, organising food parcels, checking batteries. It was the kind of work that kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.
At lunchtime they ate cold protein bars and sat on the sand with their backs to their backpacks.
"OK," Naomi said, stretching her legs. "Our goals for day one: make camp, find a fresh water stream, avoid mysterious injuries."
Linda nodded. "According to the map, there should be a stream east of here. Near a rock formation that looks like a sleeping dog."
Naomi snorted. "Very National Geographic."
Linda raised her eyebrows. "It's either that or die of thirst. I'll go with the dogs."
"Good."
An hour later they set off, following the vague sketch Linda had drawn from the old diary. The path wasn't really a path - more like a series of gaps between trees, vaguely walkable. Naomi led the way, machete in hand, cutting through the vines with, as Linda put it, "unearned confidence".
The terrain was rugged but beautiful. Ferns taller than people. Strange blue flowers. Birds - at last - chirping high above the canopy.
"Did you see that?" Naomi shouted. "Life, I told you the island wasn't cursed."
Linda didn't answer. She looked at her compass, then at the sun, then at the compass again.
"This doesn't make sense."
Naomi looked behind her. "What doesn't make sense?"
Linda held up the compass. The needle pointed vaguely north-east - not spinning, but not steady either.
"There could be metal in the rock," Naomi suggested.
"Maybe there is. Or maybe the map is wrong."
Naomi kept walking. "It's from a hundred year old dead man's notebook, so accuracy may be optional. "Linda sighed. "You know, we should go to a resort sometime."
"What, and give up the chance of catching some weird jungle disease together? No chance."
They didn't find the creek that day. They did find a hill that wasn't on the map, a fallen tree in the shape of a question mark, and what Naomi claimed was a monkey (it wasn't - it was a raccoon).
They returned to camp at sundown. They were tired, scratched and sweaty.
Linda lay on her back in the sand. "All right. That was educational."
Naomi crouched down beside her. "I learned that raccoons don't like being yelled at.
"I learned that your sense of direction is a danger to mankind."
"Just a little."
One by one the stars came out. No light pollution. No noise. Just waves and breath and the rustle of wind through the leaves.
Linda sat up and rubbed her throat. "I don't... I don't know... do you wonder what we're doing?"
Naomi looked at her. "All the time."
"And?"
"And yet I keep doing it."
Linda smiled vaguely. "You're crazy."
"You're just jealous I have better calves."
That night they fell asleep to the sound of the waves.
Not the silence.
Not the secret.
Just each other's breathing, the wind in the trees and the shared understanding that, however different they were, they were alone on an island where no one cared.
Naomi dreamed of cliffs and running.
Linda dreamed of maps and dead ends.
Neither of them imagined ghosts.
Because this wasn't that kind of story.
At least not yet.
(Diana & Daniel) The forest was dense and silent - not menacing, but full. Alive in a way that didn't need to make itself known. The sun barely filtered through the thick canopy above them, leaving the ground speckled with shifting patterns of light. Diana walked in steady strides, undisturbed by the uneven terrain or the dampness that clung to her skin. She had grown up hiking, and the solitude of nature suited her more than most would assume.
Behind her, Daniel followed - a few steps behind, always just far enough to make it clear that he wasn't trying to lead. He moved with a relaxed rhythm, hands in his pockets, eyes roaming. Occasionally he would speed up, catch up with Diana, then fall behind again. Like a dog pretending not to care where its owner was going.
They hadn't spoken in ten minutes.
"I get it," Daniel said at last, his voice carrying easily in the silence. "You're giving me the silent treatment. Very mature."
Diana didn't stop walking. "I'm not giving you anything. I'm enjoying the silence."
Daniel grinned behind her. "Figures. Your husband doesn't talk much either, does he?"
She paused for a moment - the kind of pause that wasn't quite hesitation, but enough to show she'd heard.
"Martin appreciates silence," she replied calmly, brushing a fern out of the way. "Something you might want to try."
Daniel chuckled. "I'd go mad. Being quiet all the time, stuck in my head. You seem the same to me - no offence."
"None taken," she said flatly, still not turning.
He let the silence stretch out again, but he didn't like it. Daniel was the kind of person who filled space - with jokes, with noise, with bait. And Diana wasn't biting. Not yet.
"I'm surprised you came at all," he said. "I thought you'd be back at the lodge with your lemon water and yoga mat."
Diana finally stopped and turned. Her eyes were sharp, not angry, just focused.
"I came to check the perimeter," she said. "To help Carter. This is a reconnaissance mission, not a holiday."
Daniel held up both hands. "Relax, General. I'm just making conversation."
"Then keep it to yourself," she said and started walking again.
But Daniel wasn't finished.
"What's it like?" he asked, his tone lighter now, curious in a way that tried to sound innocent. "Being married for ten years? Still exciting?"
She didn't answer.
"Martin seems... reliable," he added, choosing his words carefully. "But not exactly exciting."
Diana paused again, this time more slowly.
"You have something to say?" she asked.
Daniel shrugged. "Just wondering. You seem like someone who needs more."
She was fully facing him now. Not angry - but her patience was wearing thin.
"You don't know what I need," she said. "And you certainly don't get to speculate."
Daniel gave her a wry smile. "You're right. I don't. But I do notice things."
Diana crossed her arms. "Like what?"
"You and Samantha," he said, watching her reaction. "You're protecting her, like you're shielding something."
Diana's jaw tensed. "She's my sister."
Daniel nodded. "And you don't like me around her."
"Because I've seen the way you look at her."
He tilted his head. "How do I look at her?"
"Like you've already decided what she should be," Diana said. "But she's not."
Daniel was silent for a moment, then grinned faintly. "You're sharp. I'll give you that."
She took a step closer. "You're young, Daniel. But not stupid. So don't play stupid."
"I'm not playing anything," he said, his voice lower now. "I'm just... watching. And wondering."
"Wondering less."
Daniel let out a slow breath and looked around the forest, as if it was only now that he remembered where they were.
"Do you ever get the feeling we're being watched?" he asked suddenly.
Diana's eyes narrowed. "Why would you say that?"
He shrugged. "No reason. Just... it's so damn quiet."
She scanned the treetops. "You say that like it's unnatural. It's just the forest. It doesn't have to entertain you."
"I'm not looking for entertainment," he said. "I'm just... bored."
Diana gave him a long look. "Then go back to camp."
He smiled. "And miss all this quality time?"
"You're not getting to me, Daniel," she said. "So if that's your plan, come up with a better one."
"I wasn't trying to get to you."
"Yes, you were."
Silence again. This time he smiled without pleasure.
"Have you always been this good at keeping people out?"
"I've had practice," she said.
Daniel looked away, his fingers brushing the side of a tree as they walked.
"Do you think Samantha is like you?"
Diana didn't answer immediately. Her voice was lower when it came.
"She's stronger than people think."
Daniel nodded slowly. "I think she's angry. I think she hides it."
"And I think you should stop analysing women you barely know," Diana said.
He chuckled. "Fair enough."
They walked in silence again for a while. Diana moved as if she had a goal. Daniel moved as if stalling.
Then he said, "Have you ever wondered what would have happened if you'd met someone else?"
Diana didn't break stride.
"No," she said. "Because I chose the life I wanted. And I still do."
Daniel watched her walk on.
He wanted to say more - to push again, to test her one last time - but he didn't.
Because he knew he'd lose.
And because, for the first time since they had left the others, the forest felt a little too quiet - not threatening, just... indifferent.
Like it didn't care what they wanted.
(Tom & Jessica) The beach stretched endlessly in both directions - a quiet ribbon of pale sand between the jungle and the ocean. The sky above was cloudless, a piercing blue that made your eyes squint even when it wasn't that bright. Tom walked barefoot along the shore, his arms behind his head, letting the warm wind dry the sweat from his back.
Jessica walked a few steps ahead, adjusting her ponytail with one hand, her flip-flops dangling from the other. The fourth day on the island and still no sign of life - no boats, no voices, no signals. Just sun, sea and silence.
"It's tragic, really," Tom said with a dramatic sigh.
Jessica didn't look back. "What now?"
"I mean, think about it," he said. "We're stuck on a deserted beach and there's not a single guy around to admire your ass. Humanity's loss."
Jessica looked over her shoulder, her mouth twitching. "Truly catastrophic," she said with dry sarcasm. "National emergency levels of loss."
Tom grinned. "We should film this for history. A cautionary tale."
She rolled her eyes. "You're not even old enough to appreciate me properly."
"I'm seventeen," he said. "That's like... the peak of appreciation."
She snorted. "You're at the peak of nonsense."
He jogged up beside her. "I'm just saying, it's a waste of resources. You look hot, and there's no one here to benefit from it. It's bad for morale."
Jessica stopped walking and turned, hands on hips. "Maybe I'm the one who's suffering. Imagine being stuck with you and not being able to have a decent conversation."
Tom put a hand over his heart, mock wounded. "I bring charm. Wit. Occasional usefulness."
"You bring noise," she said, and started walking again.
They walked in silence for a while, feet sinking slightly into the warm sand. The sea whispered in waves beside them, a rhythm that was both soothing and maddening in its consistency.
After a while, Jessica kicked off her shorts and tossed them onto a dry patch of sand. She was wearing a deep green bikini underneath - practical, nothing flashy. Still, it caught the light in all the right ways.
Tom looked away quickly, then immediately regretted it. Or maybe not. His mind was so annoying.
He cleared his throat. "So tragic," he said again. "Still no admirers for your first-class bum."
Jessica didn't even look at him. "You're obsessed with my bum. You should talk to someone about it."
"I'm just saying what others would say if they were here."
"Lucky for the world they're not."
She stepped into the water, walking slowly until the waves reached her calves. The way the sunlight danced off the moving surface made her legs shimmer, her figure blending into the horizon like some kind of holiday advert.
Tom sat down on the sand and stretched his legs. He leaned back on his elbows and watched the sea.
"How much longer do you think we'll be stuck here?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Jessica turned halfway round, shielding her eyes with one hand. "No idea. Could be tomorrow, could be weeks. Depends on who's looking."
"Do you think anyone's looking?"
She didn't answer for a few seconds. "Carter will say something," she finally said. "And Naomi's probably making noise somewhere."
Tom chuckled. "Naomi makes noise even when she sleeps."
Jessica smiled faintly, then turned back to the sea. The wind played with a few loose strands of hair, brushing them against her cheek.
A bird called from deep in the trees. It was the first they'd heard all day.
Tom leaned further back, digging his shoulders into the warm sand.
"Have you ever thought about what you'd be doing if we weren't stuck here?"
Jessica shrugged. "Probably at work. Pretending to like people."
"You don't like people?"
"I like people in small doses. With pauses."
Tom grinned. "You like me, though, don't you?"
Jessica turned slightly, brow raised. "You're tolerable."
"I'll take it."
He watched her for a moment, then added, "You don't seem too worried."
She lifted a foot, letting the water splash over her ankle. "What good is worrying?"
"I mean... we're on a desert island. No services. No food supplies. Isn't that a bit worrying?"
Jessica looked back at him, then sat down beside him on the sand. "Of course it's worrying. But panicking won't solve anything. So I'm saving my energy."
Tom nodded thoughtfully.
"I keep thinking someone's going to show up," he said. "Like... a rescue team, or news cameras, or even some weird fisherman."
"Well, let's hope it's not a weird fisherman," she replied. "But yes. Someone will come. Eventually."
Silence fell between them - not heavy, not empty. Just silence.
After a while, Jessica sat back and sighed. "All right. If we're going to die out here, at least say something interesting first."
Tom grinned. "OK. Here's a fact: I'm the better sibling."
Jessica gave him a flat look. "You're not."
"Emotionally, physically, intellectually..."
"You're barely house-trained."
Tom laughed. "You love me."
"I do," she said, smiling without looking at him. "But I also kind of want to push you into the sea."
"I'll take that as a win."
They sat on the sand until the sun went low, turning everything gold. There was no plan. No signal. No sound except wind and water.
But now there was something else.
Laughter.
And for a moment it was enough.
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