Sea shell festival

In the next few days
Morning sunlight spilled across the orphanage courtyard, and Ninsula woke early each day, full of gentle energy. Daisy was always by her side, excitedly showing her every corner of the orphanage — the garden where the smallest children played, the kitchen where laughter never ceased, even the little library stacked with worn-out books. Her younger brother followed them everywhere, eyes shining with curiosity.

Behind them, as always, the guardian moved in silence — his steps steady, his presence cold and commanding. His sharp gaze swept across the children and the surroundings as though he were always expecting danger. At first, the children were frightened by his severe expression, but slowly, they grew used to it — whispering and giggling about the “scary big brother” who never smiled.

Ninsula spent her days laughing among them, her soft brown hair fluttering in the sea breeze. She visited the market stalls, trying sweets and buying small trinkets, bracelets, and scarves. The island was alive with the spirit of the coming festival — bright banners, music in the air, the scent of salt and flowers. Preparations were in full swing; in three days, the traditional sea ritual would be held by the shore under moonlight.

Everything seemed peaceful—until that moment.

While strolling through the crowded market, Ninsula suddenly froze. Her gaze landed on a poster nailed to a wooden board — her own face staring back at her. Her heartbeat stopped. The words beneath it sent a chill down her spine:

 “Princess of Lorian Kingdom is here on this island. Whoever captures her and delivers her to the Hagen Tribe shall receive a reward of five thousand gold talens.”


Gasps rippled through the market. People whispered to one another in hushed, trembling voices.
 “The princess? She’s here?”“Could it be true?”


Ninsula’s fingers trembled, her breath quickening. Fear rose in her throat like a storm.

That’s when a calm, familiar voice reached her ear — low and steady.
 “Master,” the guardian murmured, his sharp eyes already scanning the crowd. “If you keep that expression, they’ll recognize you for sure.”


Princess Ninsula looked at him and nodded softly, taking a deep breath to calm herself. It’s okay, she thought. They already knew the Hagen Tribe would learn their location soon after the ship attack.

Just then, Daisy came running from behind, her curious eyes wide as she stared at the poster.

 “Oh wow! I really want to meet the .princess! What do you think she looks like? People say she’s like a fairy descended from the heavens!”


She looked at Ninsula with that pure, sparkling gaze, waiting for an answer.
But Ninsula couldn’t help it — she suddenly burst into laughter. Daisy blinked, confused, tilting her head.
 “What’s wrong?” Daisy asked softly.


Ninsula tried to control her giggles and smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

 “A princess is also human, not a fairy. And besides, if she’s been here for days, and stands out that much, you would’ve already seen her by now.”


Poor Daisy didn’t know… she had already seen a princess — the very one standing before her, laughing under the morning light.

Ninsula leaned down and playfully pinched both of Daisy’s cheeks. The girl puffed her face and pouted while Ninsula laughed even more, their laughter ringing like a melody amidst the marketplace chatter.

But not far away, someone was watching.A man paused in front of the poster, then lifted his gaze toward the crowd — toward the laughing princess.

 “She looks almost the same… the same features, the same blue eyes… only her hair is brown now.”


His expression darkened as he whispered under his breath:
 “That’s far too much of a coincidence.”

After Some Days
Tomorrow morning, they were set to depart for the Naran Kingdom — not as royals, but as simple commoners of the island. Everything had been arranged by Ninsula’s aunt, and tonight would be their final night here. The night of the Sea Shell Festival.

---

At Night
The orphanage was glowing softly with lantern light when Ninsula stepped out of her room. She was dressed in a flowing gown of pale blue silk, embroidered with delicate white flowers that shimmered faintly under the glow. Her dark hair cascaded freely down her back, and a hint of gentle makeup graced her features.
She twirled lightly in front of Daisy and the Guardian, who stood by the doorway — silent as ever.

 “How do I look?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with a shy smile.


It was the first time since fleeing her kingdom that she’d worn something so beautiful. Though still far simpler than her royal attire, it made her feel alive again — as if for a moment, she could breathe like an ordinary girl.
Daisy clapped her hands and ran forward, hugging her tightly with a giggle.

 “You look like a princess! I don’t think even a real princess could be more beautiful than you!”


Ninsula laughed softly, returning the hug and gently patting Daisy’s hair.
“Let’s go now,” she said with a warm smile. “I want to see how the festival will be.”

Everywhere was filled with excitement. Children ran around in their traditional clothes, laughing and waving small posters in the air. Aunt Elara walked with them, smiling warmly as they all went together — the children of the orphanage gathered close around her.

“We’ll go to the seashore,” Aunt Elara said gently. “The High Priest of the island will be there, and he’ll give sacred water to everyone to drink. It’s an old tradition. And, as I told you before, whoever wishes to let go of their painful memories can throw sea shells into the water.”

In this island’s tradition, each sea shell carried a memory — one that hurt too much to keep. To forget it, they would toss the shell into the sea. And if someone wished for something instead, they would throw sea stones into the waves.

No one truly knew whether it worked or not, but the people here believed in it with all their hearts.

They made their way toward the grand sea-side temple — its marble pillars glimmering beneath hundreds of lanterns and ribbons that danced in the wind. The line stretched far across the steps, filled with villagers holding seashells and sea stones in their hands.

After what felt like forever, it was finally their turn. Daisy went first, her tiny hands trembling as a priest poured the sacred water into her clay cup. She drank it carefully, her eyes shining with awe.

One by one, the others from the orphanage followed, bowing respectfully to the priests before stepping aside.

When it came to Ninsula’s turn, she accepted her cup eagerly, the cool liquid shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Without hesitation, she drank it in one gulp — and then blinked, her lips curving into an excited smile.

 “Oooh wow! I think I feel something changing in my body already!” she said dramatically, her eyes wide in mock amazement.


Guardian, standing beside her with his arms crossed, gave her a long, unimpressed look.

 “Master,” he said flatly, “it’s just water. Nothing more. These are old traditions passed down by belief — not by reason.”


Ninsula pouted and reached over to pinch his arm.

“Why are you always so serious?” she teased. “Can’t you let people believe what they want?”


Then, with a mischievous smirk, she added,

“Say that again in front of the islanders — and see if they don’t throw you into the sea.”


Her laugh rang out like bells in the cool night air, while he sighed quietly, pretending to ignore her — though the faintest corner of his lips twitched.

---
Later, they wandered through the bustling festival. Laughter, drumbeats, and lantern light filled the air as the streets glowed with life. Ninsula admired the glowing shells and sea-inspired ornaments hanging everywhere.

His arm was firm and warm against her, his robe brushing her sleeve. The scent of metal and wind clung faintly to him — steady, grounding. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a small, startled beat before she quickly blinked and looked away.
The man who bumped into her looked startled — a middle-aged man with gentle eyes and a polite face.

“Ah—madam, please forgive me. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said quickly, bowing in apology.

Ninsula smiled warmly.
“It’s alright. There’s so much crowd here, it’s easy to stumble.”


The man nodded gratefully and walked away.

But the Guardian didn’t move. His gaze followed the stranger through the crowd — his violet eyes narrowing slightly, every instinct alert.

Even as Ninsula tugged his sleeve playfully, he was still watching that man’s retreating figure long after he disappeared.

The sea shimmered under the moonlight, its waves glinting like scattered stars. At the shore, people were tossing seashells and stones into the water — each throw a quiet wish, or perhaps an attempt to let go of something heavy.

Swish ! swish! 

Ninsula stood among them, watching. , her gaze softening at the sight of shells disappearing into the sea’s embrace.

How many broken memories are buried beneath these waves? she wondered

Beside her, Daisy picked up a small stone, closed her eyes, and whispered something before tossing it far into the water.

Her little brother tugged at her sleeve. “What did you wish for?”
Daisy smiled faintly. “That our parents can rest in peace.”

Ninsula’s lips curved into a gentle smile. Her eyes, however, drifted toward Aunt Elara, who stood a short distance away. Elara’s face was calm, but when she threw a seashell into the water and folded her hands in silent prayer, something about the gesture made Ninsula’s chest tighten.

“What do you think she wished for?” Ninsula asked quietly.

Daisy hesitated, glancing at their aunt. “I don’t know exactly,” she murmured, “but I heard from someone close to her that she once loved someone in her youth... someone she’s been trying to forget ever since. They say she throws a seashell into the sea every year — but it never works.”
Ninsula’s gaze lingered on Elara’s closed eyes, on the quiet sorrow wrapped in her prayer. Then she bent down, picked up a stone of her own, and smiled softly.

“Well,” she whispered, “let’s see if the sea can keep my secret too.”
She threw it with all her strength, watching it vanish into the dark water. Then she turned toward the Guardian with a teasing grin.

“What about you? No wish? Don’t tell me you still don’t believe in this — just do it!”

To her surprise, he actually picked up a stone, pausing for a long moment before flicking his wrist. The stone shot across the water like a comet and disappeared beyond sight.

Ninsula burst into laughter. “You didn’t have to use that much power! What did you even wish for — freedom, maybe? You could’ve just asked me for that, you know~” she teased, rubbing her hands together mischievously.

He sighed softly, eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “Master, I don’t know what kind of freedom you’re talking about,” he said evenly. 

“But I’ve heard we shouldn’t reveal our wishes. Still… if you truly want to know, I can tell you.”

For a moment, she froze — her grin faltered, her cheeks puffed up in mock annoyance as she turned away.
“Hmph. Then don’t tell me, you— you mysterious thing.”

The Guardian only smiled faintly, watching her shoulders hunch as she kicked at the sand. The sea wind brushed between them — carrying laughter, secrets, and the faint echo of wishes swallowed by the waves. 

“Sorry, everyone! I got a bit mistaken earlier — my next two chapters will be special ones, and I’ll be releasing them this Saturday and Sunday!😅😊

Thanks for the support”