Tank was halfway through his third cup of coffee when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. The name on the screen made him pause: Mark Grayson. A Maryland State Trooper and an old friend, Mark rarely called unless the situation was serious.

Tank picked up, leaning against the counter. "Mark, what's up? Haven't heard from you in a minute."

"Tank," Mark's voice came through, steady but edged with urgency. "I need a favor. We've got a situation down by the Chesapeake Bay."

Tank frowned, already sensing where this was going. "What kind of situation?"

Mark hesitated for a moment. "A tour bus carrying 27 Korean tourists crashed off the Bay Bridge three days ago. We've recovered some wreckage, but no bodies. None. It's like they just vanished."

Tank rubbed his temples, the weight of the words sinking in. "And you think I can help."

"You're the only one I know who can," Mark said. "If there's any chance those souls are still lingering... we need to find them. Their families deserve answers."

Tank exhaled, glancing at the pendant around his neck. "Alright. Text me the address. I'll be there in an hour."

The Chesapeake Bay stretched out before Tank as he pulled into the makeshift command center set up by the police. The salty breeze carried a heavy sense of foreboding, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore only added to the grim atmosphere. Officers and divers moved about, their faces etched with frustration and exhaustion.

Mark approached, his state trooper uniform crisp despite the long hours he'd clearly been working. He extended a hand, his expression a mix of relief and grim determination.

"Tank. Thanks for coming," Mark said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Wouldn't have called me unless you were desperate," Tank replied, scanning the area. "What's the situation?"

Mark gestured toward the water. "The bus went off the bridge at high speed. Witnesses say it hit the water and sank almost instantly. We've dredged the area, but it's like the Bay swallowed it whole. No debris, no bodies, nothing."

Tank squinted at the water, the surface deceptively calm. "What's the current like out here?"

"Strong. Tides change fast," Mark said. "But even with that, we should've found something. It doesn't add up."

Tank nodded, already feeling the faint chill that signaled nearby spirits. "Give me some space. I'll see what I can do."

Tank walked to the edge of the pier, closing his eyes and letting the world around him fade. The salty air grew colder, and the distant sound of seagulls was replaced by faint whispers. When he opened his eyes, the afterlife realm began to bleed into view.

The water seemed darker, almost ink-like, and the outlines of ghostly figures appeared beneath the surface. They hovered just out of reach, their forms flickering like shadows in the waves.

"Who's out there?" Tank called, his voice steady despite the chill in the air.

One by one, the spirits began to rise. The first was a middle-aged man, his suit waterlogged and torn. His face was pale and his eyes hollow, but his expression was calm. Behind him, more spirits appeared: women, children, all dressed in the casual clothes of tourists.

"Help us," the man said, his voice distorted by the echoes of the realm.

"What happened?" Tank asked, stepping closer to the edge.

The man hesitated, then gestured toward the horizon. "We were taken. Pulled beneath. Not by the water, but by something else."

Tank's jaw tightened. "Something else? What do you mean?"

Before the man could answer, a loud splash echoed behind the ghosts, and the water began to churn violently. The spirits recoiled, their forms flickering as a dark shape emerged from the depths.

A massive, shadowy figure rose from the water, its form indistinct but menacing. Tentacles writhed beneath the surface, and glowing red eyes pierced through the gloom.

"Shit," Tank muttered, stepping back. "Mark didn't say anything about sea monsters."

The spirits cowered as the creature roared, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of the realm. Tank gripped the pendant around his neck, its faint glow offering a small sense of comfort.

"Leave them alone," Tank said, his voice firm.

The creature lunged, its massive form surging toward the pier. Tank barely had time to dodge, the wooden planks splintering beneath the impact. He hit the ground hard, rolling to his feet and pulling out a talisman.

"Alright, big guy," he growled. "Let's see how you handle this."

Tank threw the talisman toward the creature, its light bursting like a flare. The monster roared in pain, retreating slightly, but it didn't back down. It lashed out with a tentacle, wrapping it around Tank's leg and pulling him toward the water.

"Not today," Tank snarled, pulling a second talisman from his pocket. He slammed it against the tentacle, the light severing the spectral limb and sending him sprawling back onto the pier.

The spirits watched from the water, their faces filled with a mix of hope and fear. "You must destroy it," the man said. "It's what keeps us here."

Tank nodded, wiping blood from his lip. "Easier said than done."

Using the talismans and the pendant, Tank fought the creature with everything he had. Each strike weakened it, the glowing red eyes dimming as the battle raged on. Finally, with one last effort, he threw a talisman directly into the creature's gaping maw. It exploded in a burst of light, the force sending waves crashing against the shore.

The monster let out a final, guttural roar before dissolving into the water, its form scattering like mist. The spirits began to glow faintly, their forms becoming more solid.

"You're free now," Tank said, his voice weary but resolute.

The man stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Thank you. We can finally move on."

One by one, the spirits faded into the light, their whispers of gratitude lingering in the air. When the last one disappeared, the water grew calm, the afterlife realm fading back into the shadows.

Mark was waiting for him as he stumbled back to the command center, soaked and exhausted.

"You look like you've been through hell," Mark said, handing him a towel.

"Something like that," Tank replied, drying off. "The bus is gone. But the souls are at peace now."

Mark nodded, his expression somber. "You did good, Tank. Their families will appreciate this."

Tank shrugged, climbing onto his motorcycle. "Just another day."

As he sped away, the sun began to rise over the Bay, its light casting a golden glow over the water. For a moment, Tank allowed himself to feel a flicker of peace, knowing he had made a difference—no matter how small.