Fateful Rhyme

1. Beneath the Norwegian Sky

Diary Entry: October 4th
Location: Hardangervidda Plateau, Norway

There I was, sitting in a lounge surrounded by strangers-well, not complete strangers, but close enough. We were about to become traveling companions, trekking down from the top of the Hardangervidda plateau into some of Norway's most breathtaking fjords. It had been something I'd always wanted to do, but in that moment, I felt awkward. You know that feeling when everyone around you is chatting, but you're not sure how to jump in? That was me.

I looked around at the others. There were five of us, all seemingly random people who had signed up for the same adventure, waiting for the agency to hand out our gear. There was a subtle tension in the air, the kind that comes from meeting new people for the first time, not yet knowing how to break the ice. I shifted in my chair, fiddling with my sleeve, glancing at the guy sitting closest to me. He hadn't said much, but he didn't need to. His presence alone was... magnetic. What was I, thirteen years old?

His name was Kiro Takahashi. He had introduced himself when we first sat down-he was a software engineer from Tokyo. He had this quiet, confident energy about him, like the kind of person who could solve any problem without breaking a sweat. Dark hair, intense eyes... I was trying not to stare, but I'd probably already failed. He hadn't spoken much since we arrived, but there was something about him that pulled me in. God, I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?

Suddenly, a voice on my right pulled me out of my thoughts. "So, what brings you here, Akira?"

It was the guy with messy brown hair and an easy smile, Ashvin Holloway. He was British, a botanist, of all things. He'd been chatting with the group about rare plants he had studied in rainforests and deserts. His laid-back demeanor made me relax a little, grateful that someone had broken the ice.

"Honestly? I needed a change of scenery," I said, trying not to sound too vague. "I'm a writer. I figured this would be a good way to get some inspiration."

Ashvin grinned. "Ah, a writer. You'll probably turn this whole trip into a book by the end of it."

I chuckled softly. "Maybe."

On the far side of the lounge, a man with sharp features and perfectly tousled blond hair looked up from the camera he'd been tinkering with. His name was Leon Blackwood, a photographer from New York. He had this effortlessly cool vibe, like he belonged in a fashion magazine.

Leon caught our conversation, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Just make sure I'm on the cover when you publish it."

Ashvin laughed. "Mate, you'll charge her a licensing fee."

Leon smirked. "It's the least I could do. If I'm going to be famous."

I shook my head, amused. "Don't worry, I'll give you a flattering description."

The last member of our little group chimed in, her voice calm and self-assured. "After this, you should see the Arctic waters. They're unreal."

Odessa Morrison. She was a marine biologist from California, and when she introduced herself earlier, I had immediately sensed she was the no-nonsense type. Her red curls fell around her face like they belonged there, and there was a fierce look in her eyes. Despite her intensity, though, there was warmth in her voice when she talked about the ocean.

"What's your favorite place you've been to so far?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "The Galápagos. It's... indescribable. I could talk about it for hours, but I won't bore you."