Chapter 1: Intruder

Seven years later

    Bright sunshine wakes me in my tree. The rays are warm, comfortable, and normal for the Bermuda Triangle.

    Yawning, I sit and stretch my arms over my head. It's a brand-new day. I love waking up not knowing what's going to happen.

    The canopy covers the whole center section of the island. It's home to flowers, seagulls, snakes, bugs, and my vast seashell collection. I like to lean my shells against the tree's trunk for a decorative touch.

    I know I want to go to the beach today, but I can't fuel on an empty stomach. Therefore, I knock down some coconuts and break them one at a time. I gulp down the sweet water in less than a minute. It feels like I am drinking magic. Energy surges through my body, and I let out a low, satisfied sigh. That hit the spot.

    I set my coconuts on my tree branch to share with the animals. Then, I walk to the edge and jump off it. My tan, dirty hands grab hold of a vine. I swing down to the jungle's bed, but my feet accidentally hit a hill. See, the jungle is so overgrown with ferns that it's sometimes difficult to see where I'm going. I tumble down the hill, but I'm lucky it takes me straight to the beach.

    I fly out of the jungle and land face-first on my island's fluffy sand. It tickles my fingers and toes. I can't help but chuckle. Wow, that's fun! I need to do that more often.

    Lifting my head, I spit sand out of my mouth and rub down my face. The tide is going out, so the beach is enormous. Behind me is the jungle, but in front of me is a long sandbar that stretches far out to the reef. A gush of wind whacks me in the face, but it does not hurt. In fact, it feels great.

    The Ocean calls me. It knows I am the Guardian of the Seas. It springs to life and dances around me. I have the power to control it.

    My feet take me to the edge of the sandbar, which looks like a hook. It's right on the line of the reef and deep water. The Ocean follows me because it likes to help me look for seashells.

    I see an orange conch buried in the sand. It's about the size of my hand. Wow, the first shell I see, and it's already my favorite. I pick it up and smile.

    A wave hovers next to me. It seems to sniff it. Does it also like my find?

    I hold the shell up to the wave's crest, and it examines it up and down. Water droplets come together and form a thumbs-up. Well, that's good. It approves. To show my thanks, I nod and scratch it under its chin-like feature.

    We run through the water and play with one another, edging closer to the sandbar's hook. We look like children. I scoop up water in the conch and toss it in the wave's face. We've just reached the hook.

    A small shrill comes from it, and I stop dead. "Help! Help!" It's a starfish, my favorite marine animal. It's just behind the hook's rounded tip.

    My mouth drops, and I squeeze water out of my ponytail.

    "Help!" repeats the starfish.

    I hate to see my friends in distress, so I come to its aid. I push my way through the water, the Ocean close behind, and step onto the edge of the hook.

    The starfish wriggles uncomfortably in the sand. "Please, Will," it begs, "I don't want to die. I have a family in the Ocean."

    I put my conch shell down and pick it up. What a gorgeous animal. Its skin, though tough, is comfortable to the touch, and it smells fresh. It hasn't been grounded for long. It just washed up when the tide went out.

    "Please," whimpers the starfish.

    I nod but take a minute to make sure it hasn't been injured. It looks perfectly fine. Therefore, I bring back my arm and chuck the animal into the Ocean. The wave hurries after it. It drenches me with seawater. It's not exactly gentle with its dive, now is it? That's the Ocean for ya.

    I pick up my conch shell and take a seat at the line. I need to make it look good for its friends in the canopy, so I brush sand off it. A warm, tropical breeze rushes through my hair. My bangs hang in my face, but I push them to the side.

    Suddenly, a seagull screeches at me from overhead. It's trying to warn me about something.

    I peer up to it.

    The seagull is a juvenile. It stoops and soars by my head, right in the direction of the Ocean.

    I rise to my feet and watch it. Wait, what's that? There's something on the horizon–a large, mysterious, white figure that has a red, whale tail-shaped figure at the end of it. It looks like an island that's risen out of the sea and is now bobbing freely at the surface.

    The gull points it out with its wing.

    I move closer to the sandbar's edge to study it. I've never seen something like it before, not once in all my twelve years of life. I don't like this. The figure looks like it's coming for my island, which tells me one thing. There are humans on it!

    I know it's risky, but I have to get a closer look. I need to stop it. Nobody messes with the Beast of the Bermuda Triangle! I will do everything in my willpower to protect the Ocean and my friends, and no humans are going to stop me!