There’s something different about waking up on Pag Island. The Adriatic light creeps in slowly, reflecting off the sea, and for a moment you forget that you’ve been dancing until sunrise just hours before. At Sonus, time stops meaning much of anything: the days flow into nights, and the nights into mornings, until all you know is music, salt water, and happy strangers who start to feel like family.

From August 17th to 21st, Zrće Beach became the heart of Croatia. Sonus stretched across four legendary open-air clubs – Papaya, Aquarius, Kalypso, and Noa,  each with its own personality. At Papaya, confetti and water mist rained down as Adam Beyer built walls of techno that seemed to push straight out into the sea. Over at Aquarius, Deborah De Luca’s fierce energy shook the dance floor long past midnight, her set blurring with the first glow of morning.

But Sonus isn’t just about big headliners, it’s about moments and the unique atmosphere. Adriatique at sunset, weaving melodies just as the sky burned orange over the bay. Ben Klock and Chris Liebing playing through a deep, late-night session that felt like it could have lasted forever.  Everywhere you turned, the community was alive. Hands reaching out, circles opening up, and new friends being collected at every set.

By day, the beach belonged to us. People floated in the water, recharging for another marathon, while boat parties sailed off the coast. On deck, the music matched the rhythm of the waves, and the whole crowd seemed to sway with the sea. If you missed the boat, there was always a hammock, a stretch of sand, or a cliff to watch the beautiful scenery from until the music pulled you back in.

And then came the afters. When the official sets ended, Sonus reminded you: nothing really ends here. B2bs popped up, and we danced until the morning. Sunrise painted the sky pink, and suddenly everyone was cheering at the horizon. Not because the night was over, but because it was about to begin again.

That’s the magic of Sonus. It’s a place where sleep doesn’t matter, where strangers become friends in a single moment, and where the Adriatic itself feels like part of the lineup. When the final beat dropped on August 21st, nobody wanted to leave,  but everyone knew they’d be back. Sonus doesn’t just happen in Croatia; it stays with you, long after the music fades. See you in 2026!