The House On The Cerulean Sea นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Son-of-a-barracuda… Thank the gods, Roger had had the good sense to let him know what was happening. It was worth every scrap of chum he could steal from those idiot Bipeds to pay the crane to keep an eye on things on land. A pair of European man-o’-wars swung the white marble doors of Ceto’s palace inward with their ten-tacles, the rush of water sucking any sea life strolling outside the gates in with him. Not that there was much. Ceto wasn’t what anyone would call a good neighbor.

The sea was never this blue before, it was warm and glowing today. The waves that were usually shy were outstanding, reaching lengths they never reached before by the shore of New Island. The biggest event in the modern history of immortals was tangible. It was the night that came before the day that sea folks were looking forward to for a millennium now, a long overdue joy that was only matched by the amount of respect everyone had for Amalthea and Nereus. Deep down in the calm warm sea, Cetus stood, his words failing him, as he gazed upon his daughter in her ceremonial gown, she was going to have final adjustments made over it.

If anything, what I had seen on the TV seemed dull in comparison to what went on in the Iridescence Pack. My eyes widened and my jaw became slack as I realized why this was called the Carnival Cerulean. Bundles of living flame were suspended in the air, casting their beautiful light on the Carnival below. The flames weren’t normal, flickering with orange and red light. They were a rich shade of blue, cerulean to be exact. Within those flames were different shades and colors, all stemming from the color blue. They crackled and snapped, sending cobalt embers into the air whenever something managed to catch itself in the flames.

“I don’t know but we’ll be better prepared for the trip back. Let’s get you inside and maybe into a cool shower?” “Sounds heavenly.” She let him help her up. She lifted her head and got her first real glimpse of the house and her eyes widened incredulously. “Oh wow. Look at this place.” The house was a sparkling white and she could see right through the front door to the back of the house and towards the brilliant turquoise sea. “Amazing right?” Royal asked as he unbuckled Precious. She tore off running in the direction of the house, her little legs pumping fast and furious as she climbed the three stairs and then ran squealing towards the beach.

He was young, with the same sharp jawline as Damien, but his eyes were mine—hazel, with a ring of gold around the iris. On the back of the photo, a single line was written in elegant, flowing script: *The sea hides what the land cannot handle. Project Cerberus begins at the shoreline.* "Cerberus," I said, the word tasting like salt. "The file I saw in your office. You told me it was about my disposal."

As they wound their way through the narrow lanes, Aria couldn't help but feel like she had stumbled upon a hidden gem, a place untouched by time. James’s house came into view, nestled on a hilltop that offered an unrivaled view of the entire town. It was a rustic two-storey retreat, built with warm wood that had aged beautifully under the coastal sun, and sturdy stone that seemed as if it could withstand the test of time. The house was wrapped in a balcony that stretched around its entire frame, offering breathtaking views from every angle. It stood majestically at the highest point of San Benjamin, like a castle overlooking its realm, watching over the sea and the land with a quiet dignity.

I can’t let what happened in this very house affect me anymore. I walk inside and I’m shocked to see the changes. The only things that are the same are the floor to ceiling windows facing the ocean. Everything else has been changed. The living room has a huge built in fish tank and the room is painted in delicate colours of soft greys. Originally it was white, sterile. The art work lines the walls. The paintings of the ocean in stunning black and white. Hurricane lanterns are on the floor by the open hearth. White and grey rugs are on the floor.

Six months later. The sea was calmer here. Not silent, but rhythmic. Trustworthy. Every wave that broke against the rocky shore felt like breath drawn in, held, and released again. For Mila Everhart, it was the first place that didn’t feel haunted. The house was small, tucked into the cliffs like a secret. It had wide windows that faced the ocean and creaked with age. She liked the creaks. They sounded alive. Inside, sunlight spilled across the floorboards where scattered newspaper clippings lay articles, court hearings, headlines screaming:

I told her. We placed our bags in the back of Isabella’s car and pulled the address into the GPS. It took us all of two hours to get to the shore. As soon as I caught sight of the ocean, I felt a significant weight being lifted off of my shoulders. That awful worry of Barrett lurking in the shadows, was beginning to fade in my mind. Isabella pulled the car up to what had to be the most breathtaking beach house I had ever seen in person. The two of us stared with our mouths hanging open at the three-story, white brick house with dark blue shutters.

The fresh sea breeze brushed against Serena’s face, carrying the scent of salt that seemed to wash away the lingering weight of Jakarta’s pollution and the bitter memories that had long suffocated her. Aboard a luxurious yacht cutting through the deep blue waters of Labuan Bajo, Serena Zea finally felt truly alive. The vessel glided smoothly, leaving a trail of white foam behind it—just like Serena, who had left the ruins of her past far beyond the horizon.