Chapter 2 The mask of the past

Night fell heavily on Rivemarine, stifling the light of the reverbs in a salty mist. Élise wandered through the cobbled streets, her mind stuck in the memories of Samuel, the mysterious notebook, and, of course, Thomas. The absence of the notebook weighed, as if she had lost an essential part of her own heart. However, her intuition pushed her to continue. Each step on these stones worn out by time was a beat in the rhythm of its quest for the truth.

As she reached the door of her house, her phone vibrated on the edge of her coat. The screen briefly lit the darkness, and it stopped. A message. No, no Lydia this time, or even Samuel. But "a". Antoine Leroy.

Élise hesitated. Antoine had been there, in the past, during the happy days when Thomas and she shared projects for the future. Antoine and Thomas had been colleagues and friends. Then, without real explanation, Antoine moved away after the disappearance of Thomas, as if he brought a guilt on his shoulders which he refused to share. Why now? Why this sudden silence broken by such a brief message?

She remained motionless in front of the door, her fingers tightening the phone for a moment. The message was urgent. She knew it. However, a wave of apprehension invaded him. Antoine had always been an enigma, both familiar and distant, both warm and enigmatic. Could she trust her?

Finally, she turned away from her house and turned around, heading for the port where the former Antoine workshop was. The cold air of the sea gutted his face, but his steps did not slow down. She had to know. Antoine's workshop was a modest building, almost forgotten in the vibrant landscape of Rivemarine. The aged wooden walls gave off a smell of oil and rust, and a flickering light filled through the windows. The door was ajar, as if to invite him to enter a space where the mysteries seemed to wait for him. Élise hesitated for a second, then pushed the door.

The interior was an organized chaos: established tools over tools, half -disassembled engines, and sketches of boats pinned to the walls. Antoine was there, bent on an engine he adjusted with precision, his shirt stained with oil. He seemed concentrated, almost absent, until his eyes get up towards her.

"Élise, you came," he said slowly, posing her tools. His face, marked by dark circles and a poorly maintained beard, seemed to bring the weight of secrets that he was ready to share.

- Your message, Antoine... Why now? she asked, her half-priest tone, half-gada.

Antoine wiped his hands on a cloth before heading for an old wooden wardrobe. He took out a metal box which he put on the established care. What he came out then paralyzed Élise: a golden compass, engraved with a star identical to that of his pendant.

-Where did you find that? she whispered.

- On board the seawater, said Antoine, the look riveted on the brilliant object.

Élise's heart got carried away. This object belonged to the lost world of Thomas, it felt it. But Antoine's response was only adding to his confusion.

- Were you on this boat? she insisted, seeking to unravel the mystery.

Antoine sketched a bitter smile, shaking his head slightly.

- No. But I have my ways of knowing. What I can tell you is that this star is not just a simple symbol. It is linked to something ... much larger.

His words resounded like an enigma.

While Elise tried to make sense of Antoine's revelations, another detail in the room caught her attention. A card hanging on the wall, marked by several red dots which seemed to follow a maritime trajectory. She approached her, her look according to these points.

- What is this ? she asked, showing the card.

Antoine frowned, visibly hesitant.

- It's a track. The ports where the seawater has stopped before ... What happened, he replied reluctantly.

Élise felt her mind getting carried away. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but something in Antoine la braast's attitude. He was nervous, constantly on the alert, as if he expected the arrival of someone or something.

-Antoine, starts at the start, she begged. I deserve answers. Thomas deserves answers.

But instead of answering, Antoine turned away, his face marked by an indecipherable expression.

"There are things you shouldn't know, Élise," he said. Believe me, some truths will only add to your pain.

- What are you afraid of? People? Consequences? You hide something from me, I feel it.

Antoine turned to her, her eyes with a brilliant steel blue intensity that disarmed her. He put his hand on his shoulder, his tone suddenly having softer.

-Élise, listen to me. What you are looking for ... what you want to discover ... could put you in danger. You don't realize what you expose yourself to.

These words struck Élise as a warning, but instead of frightening him, they reinforced her determination. She was not ready to let the secrets of the past control her. She wanted to know everything, even the dark truths. As they continued to speak, a noise sounds outside. Antoine stiffens, his hand instinctively sliding towards a rear door which seemed to lead to a secondary outlet.

-You have to leave, he said hastily. NOW.

- What ? For what ? Antoine, what's going on?

But Antoine was already heading towards the outlet, the palpable tension.

-Trust me, Élise. It is better that you are far from here. I'll call you.

Élise hesitated, but the insistence in her words pushed her to leave the workshop. Outside, she found the freezing air of the port, but something had changed. She knew that the mysteries surrounding Antoine went far beyond what she had imagined.

On the way back, his thoughts were looping. She ironed each word, every gesture, every detail. Who were these "people" that Antoine had spoken? And why did he seem so nervous? The compass, the card, its warnings ... Everything seemed to converge on a larger, darker plot.

Élise knew that she was not done with Antoine. He held answers, but he also seemed to be in the nets of a force that she did not yet understand.

When Elise's silhouette disappeared around the corner, Antoine remained planted at the workshop door, the jaw tense. He scanned the darkness, his eyes running on the slightest suspicious movement in the night. The sea wind was part of his pass, but he did not move, as paralyzed by a concern he wore alone.

Once certain that Élise was out of reach, he closed the door and leaning against it, sighing at length. Antoine had never been a fearful man, but in recent months had put his composure to the test. He passed a hand in his hair in battle, as if he hoped to find answers, then walked slowly to the wardrobe where he had put the compass. He took her in his hands, observing it under the low flickering glow of a suspended lamp.

The compass was shone with an old sparkle, worn out by time but still fascinating. Antoine knew its importance - not only for Élise or even for Thomas, but for a much darker and complex reason than he dared to admit.

Antoine Leroy had not always been this man withdrawn from himself. Before, he was full of life, known in Rivemarine for his mechanical skills and his easy smile. His passion for boats and the sea had led him to work on the seawater alongside Thomas, at a time when the future seemed clear and promising. But the events of this famous night had changed everything.

He still remembered the day he had been presented to him Thomas. "A good guy," he said. And it was true. Thomas had this way of bringing people together, making them feel important. Quickly, a camaraderie had established itself between them. But Antoine had never been as carefree as Thomas. Where Thomas saw the sea as a playground or a passion, Antoine saw it as a dangerous territory, populated by secrets and things better left.

Their last trip together on the seawater still haunted its nights. Antoine had said nothing to Élise, nor anyone else, but he remembered whispers on board, looks exchanged in the shadows, sealed boxes that always seemed to travel under the radars. He had not asked any questions at the time, preferring to close his eyes to what he considered as a business that did not concern him. But today, these choices caught up with him.

Back to his workbench, Antoine opened a secret drawer hidden under a false wooden panel. Inside, a series of carefully folded documents and a black carnet connected in leather. Unlike the notebook that Élise had found, she was filled with her own writing. Dates, observations, and even sketches of certain mysterious symbols which he had seen engraved on the cash of the Sea Moon. He passed his fingers on the pages, his dark face.

Antoine did not want to involve Élise. She was innocent in this case, a victim of a greater tragedy than she could imagine. But chance-or perhaps fate-had decided otherwise. And now that she was on board, he knew he couldn't protect her forever.

Through a small workshop window, Antoine cast a last glance outside. In the street, a shadow seemed to move, slow and calculated. His eyebrows frowned. He quickly exhausted the light from the workshop, crouched behind the workbench, and listened. The noise of steps, discreet but audible, confirmed what he feared.

"They are there," he whispered for himself.

In recent times, he had noticed that he was made. Faces unknown in cafes, cars that remained parked too long in front of his workshop, anonymous calls where no one spoke on the other side of the wire. Antoine knew what it meant: he had drew their attention. And now, with the return of Élise and her missing notebook, things would only intensify.

While searching in an old chest, Antoine released a small metal box. Inside, a silver key and a piece of folded paper. On paper, an address: "Port de Valmont, quai 7. Tomorrow at midnight." It is difficult to swallow by rereading these words. He knew that this meeting could seal his destiny, but he no longer had the choice.

Before leaving his workshop for the night, he quickly wrote a note which he slipped under a stone placed near the entrance. She was addressed to Élise, in case she returns before him. The note simply said:

"Keep your distance. Trust anyone."

He took a deep inspiration, put on his coat, and left the workshop in silence, sinking into the dark night.