Rain seeped from the sky, as if the world began to cry. The sea around us darkened, becoming a tumultuous grey under the encroaching storm. Gusts of wind propelled us faster across the water, and lightning intermittently illuminated the horizon, casting a beautiful blue glow across the clouds. The boat, caught in the growing swells, rocked violently, forcing me to seek refuge in a small compartment below deck.
The door creaked and struggled against its frame, clearly warped from moisture, as I pulled it shut. Water trickled in from the seams of the roof and walls, the interior air thick with humidity. Inside, Sebastian had found himself a makeshift sanctuary from the storm's chaos.
He was slumped over a cherrywood desk that was securely bolted to the floor, the only stable element in the rocking cabin. Above him, a lantern swung precariously from a groaning rope, threatening to give way at any moment. His left hand moved randomly across a sheet of paper with a feather pen, dipping occasionally into a small, brown-stained jar of ink that miraculously remained steady on the table despite the boat’s violent movements.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice cutting through the sound of the rain and creaking wood.
Sebastian looked up, briefly startled by my interruption. “Writing,” he responded simply.
I frowned, perplexed. “But what? I didn’t know you could write.”
“Didn’t know I could?” He chuckled, “Not only the rich and powerful learn how to write,” he said as he dipped his pen back into the ink. “I always document each trip.” He continued to write, erratically mind you. After a moment, he carefully lifted the paper, placing it in a small tin tray to protect it from the dampness of the room. “Helps pass the time, and fix my broken memory,” Sebastian added.
The boat lurched violently to the left, and I stumbled backwards, bracing myself against the wall as a wave of nausea washed over me. "Fuck—" I muttered.
Sebastian sighed, seemingly unfazed by the boat's erratic behavior, and stood up. "Why don't you give it a try while I calm the course?" he suggested.
As Sebastian exited the cramped cabin, the door swung shut with a loud bang. Left alone, I stared at the blank paper in front of me. Give it a try? The concept felt distant. It had been years since I last penned anything more substantial than a quick note, but the mechanics of writing were still ingrained in me.
Pulling the chair closer, its structure groaned under my weight. I positioned myself, pulling a fresh sheet of paper toward me. The pen felt oddly heavy in my hand as I dipped it into the inkwell, pausing as the tip soaked up the black liquid. Yet I hesitated. What the hell would I even write about?
With that thought, the purpose of writing crystallized in my mind. This wasn’t just about documenting the mundane or unburdening my thoughts—it was about leaving a mark, however small, in a world that might not remember me. If I didn't make it back, this piece of paper could be the last tangible proof of my existence, a final testament to the struggles I faced and the curse I fought so hard to break.
So, I began from the beginning. My memory of the Chepstow slaughter—how horrific and senseless it had been. I wrote about Vesperus, the man behind it all, and his blood-soaked crusade. He murdered countless souls in such a brutal manner that even Chlodovech, for all his cruelty, paled in comparison.
Then there were his followers, those who carried out his twisted commands without hesitation. As I wrote, something struck me: where had they all gone? No one had stood beside Vesperus in the present, not since I faced him alone. But in my memories, there had been others—sorcerers, perhaps, or those twisted by his power.
Who were they? Survivors of the war, manipulated by magic? Or had Vesperus twisted their minds so completely that they obeyed without question? It was baffling that I never thought of it before, yet some things were never made to be answered.
The ink jar toppled as the ship lurched violently, sliding off the table and spilling its dark contents across the floor in thick, putrid streaks. It didn’t shatter, but the mess it left behind was permanent, soaking into the wooden floorboards. The sudden motion knocked me from my chair, and I planted my hands into the ink-stained floor, feeling its slick, sticky texture coat my palms.
“Bastard...” I muttered under my breath, cursing both the storm and the chaos it brought with it. Glancing up, I saw the door now swinging open wildly, letting in gusts of cold, salty air. I needed to get back on my feet, but the ship wasn’t giving me much of a chance.
Scrambling across the floor, I managed to pull myself up and stumble onto the deck. "What the hell is going on?" I shouted, but there was no answer. The rain pounded mercilessly, making the ship's floor wet. Every step I took caused me to slip, the chaos around me making it impossible to keep my balance. The boat turned to the left, sending me sliding toward the railing, only to level out again moments later.
Gripping the sides with all my strength, I blinked through the rain and saw what had happened. The island was right there—we had crashed into an old, massive dock. My heart raced as I tried to process it. We’d only been sailing for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. How could we have arrived already? But as I stared, I knew it wasn’t a mistake. The landmass before me was real.
This island, however, was no ordinary place. The very sand was a deep, unnatural red, something I could never have imagined. It seemed to absorb the faint light struggling through the stormy clouds, swallowing it up, refusing to return it to the world. The sight was unsettling, but before I could fully comprehend it, the boat jolted again as the crash settled. The sudden stop threw me off balance, and I hit the railing hard, slipping off the boat and tumbling into the crimson sand with a heavy thud.
The sand was warm and soft, not at all coarse like regular sand, and it felt strange against my skin, throwing off my senses. The whole island smelled faintly of burnt wood, a scent of char lingering in the air. This couldn’t have been a natural phenomenon. Nothing about this place felt natural.
Sebastian’s voice erupted in panicked screams as he rushed over to the edge of the boat, peering down at me. “Are you okay?” he yelled, his voice barely audible over the storm.
I simply stuck up a thumb in response, unable or unwilling to muster any words just yet.
“No, no, no!” he muttered to himself, eyes wide as he took in the damage to the boat. “There’s no way she’ll make it back...” His frustration boiled over as he slammed his fist into the wooden deck. “Fuck!” he roared, the helplessness clear in his voice.
I pushed myself up from the strange crimson sand, feeling its warmth seep into my skin as I stood and faced the wrecked boat. This was it—there was no turning back now. The boat, like everything else in my life, had just fallen apart.
Sebastian remained silent, his hand covering his face as he tried to process the reality of our situation. I sat up, brushing the red sand off myself, and called out to him, “Hey—” My voice was quiet at first, hesitant. “They’ll come back for us—you. They’ll come back for you when the boat doesn’t return.”
Though my words were meant to reassure, they didn’t seem to do much. Still, he pulled his hand away from his face, expression contorted, eyebrows furrowed deeply. With a huff, he slid down the edge of the wrecked boat, dropping to the ground with a bend of his knees. His eyes darted fearfully across the landscape, taking in the barren stretch of crimson sand, the ancient dock's withered debris, and the broken remnants of his boat the only thing around us.
“What was the point in coming here?” His voice cracked, almost a cry of desperation.
I swallowed hard, wanting to tell him the truth, but it would’ve sounded insane. It was insane. Trying to convince him of the curse, of the hellish forces at work, would only terrify him more. He’d think he was stranded on an island with a madman. So, I held my tongue, glancing at the red-stained ground and the sky above. I was here to break something far more dangerous than he could ever imagine, but I couldn’t share that.
Instead, I remained silent.
“That’s great... that’s...” Sebastian continued his tantrum, then abruptly stopped, “I’m going to die here.” His eyes met mine, “I have a son...I--I have people...”
“Stop.” I said suddenly, sounding all too similar to Ikevine, “You’re not going to die I mean... fuck... you’ll get out of here...” Placing a hand on his shoulder, I looked to the left, “Let's see what's over the hill... if there’s a dock, then people used to live here. Perhaps there’s something of use.”
“Okay.” He breathed, “This is still your fault.” Sebastian stated as he shouldered past me, walking far ahead. I let him go, understanding that he needed space. After all, the man wasn’t wrong. If I hadn’t pushed him to bring me here, none of this would have happened. But deep down, I knew the strange force that brought us to the island was the true culprit.
Lost in thought, I snapped back to reality only to realize Sebastian was no longer in sight. “Shit,” I muttered, quickening my pace. The further I ventured, the worse the stench became. Shifting from burnt wood to something far more nauseating—burnt flesh. A smell I knew all too well, ever since my near-execution.
“Sebastian?” I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out.
But only silence responded, carried on the violent winds that howled past my ears. Looking up, I noticed the storm was beginning to pass. Sunlight broke through the heavy clouds, cutting through the bleakness.
Each step forward seemed to urge me to turn back. But when I crested the top of a sandy hill that gave way to dark, purplish-red grass, the sight before me nearly convinced me to do so. Ruins—hundreds of them—littered the land, remnants of what must have once been a thriving civilization. A large town stretched across what had once been flat, fertile land, now reduced to crumbling buildings. The old architecture, with mud roofs and flat pebble walls, had clearly not withstood the test of time.
In the center, large towers stood tall, and to the right, I recognized the remains of a church. What must have once been a grand building now lay charred to the ground. The wooden beams were nothing but ash, and the stone walls were smashed and scattered as if some great force had deliberately destroyed it after burning it down.
This was no natural decay. Someone—or something—had deliberately laid waste to this place. The systematic destruction, the fire followed by calculated demolition, made that clear.
“Sebastian?” I called again, my voice faltering in the silence. I scanned the ruins, but the sailor was nowhere to be seen. How had he managed to disappear so quickly?
The slope ahead was steep but manageable, leading to a wide, flat expanse that stretched for miles before rising into hills far off in the distance. They were nothing compared to the towering peaks of the Theosilic Mountains, but they still loomed large against the sky.
Carefully, I traced the curve of the hill, one hand on the strange, red grass as I descended. Near the bottom, I miscalculated my balance, tumbling forward. I managed to land on my feet and sprinted a few steps to regain control. It worked, but it stung. Typical.
A figure moved in the distance, slowly emerging from the depths of the ruined city. Its pace was unnervingly sluggish, almost as if it were deliberately stalking something—or someone. "Sebastian—!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the desolate landscape as I sprinted toward the figure. Why was he hiding from me?
As I dashed forward, ancient, decaying structures closed in around me. The ground beneath my feet was cracked and barren, void of grass, with dirt the color of crusted blood. It was as if this place had been ravaged by a great beast, the remnants of its devastation all around.
I passed no old market stalls, rotting clothes, or scattered bones. No real trace of the people who once lived here remained, only hints of their departure. Perhaps they had fled from whatever had attacked this place—or maybe the land itself had become sick, spreading like a plague.
As I rounded the corner of a crumbling building where Sebastian had disappeared, I stopped short, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest. It wasn't Sebastian standing there. The figure I had been chasing wasn’t human at all—it was a beast of unimaginable horror.
I choked on my breath, panic gripping me so tightly that my hand shot instinctively to the rune on my arm. Pressing into it, I summoned the sword into my hand. The weight of the weapon almost caused me to drop it, but I gripped it tightly, refusing to let go.
The creature before me towered at nearly seven feet, its body vaguely humanoid but covered in a hardened, rock-like skin. Molten cracks ran across its surface, glowing with an intense orange light that radiated blistering heat. The very air around it shimmered from the scorching temperature. Its body cracked grotesquely as it moved, but it hadn’t yet noticed me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I took a cautious step back, trying to avoid drawing its attention. But in my haste, my sword clanged against the side of a crumbled pebble wall, the high-pitched noise ringing out in the dead silence.
The creature’s head snapped toward me, and its face—or what passed for one—gaped open, revealing a grotesque, bloody maw. A tongue, slick with blood, slithered out, and the creature let out a low, guttural growl.
I froze, my body tensing in terror. The thing had seen me now, and what the hell was a sword supposed to do against rock?
As the creature lumbered toward me, its heavy footsteps causing the ground to quake ever so slightly, I quickly gauged its movements. Judging by its slow, deliberate pace, I realized I could easily outrun it if I chose to. But did I really want this monstrosity roaming free, possibly tracking me or threatening others? The thought made my decision clear—I had to confront it.
My eyes darted over its towering form, searching for any sign of weakness. The glowing orange fissures that crisscrossed its rocky exterior caught my attention. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I tightened my grip on the sword and lunged forward. With a swift motion, I plunged the blade into one of the fiery cracks.
The creature halted abruptly. Its misshapen head tilted upward, and the blazing light within its body began to flicker erratically. As I twisted the sword, the creature emitted no sound—no roar or scream—just an unsettling silence. Gradually, the intense glow dimmed until it was completely enveloped in darkness, its form now resembling inert stone.
"Dead?" I whispered, hardly daring to believe it. Was it actually that easy? Cautiously, I withdrew my sword, taking a step back to observe. Almost immediately, the creature's inner light reignited, and with a grinding noise of shifting rocks, it began to move once more. My eyes widened in disbelief.
Reacting on instinct, I thrust the sword back into the crack, and the creature froze again, its glow extinguishing as it reverted to its petrified state. My heart pounded in my chest as it clicked.
"What the hell?" I muttered, bewildered. This thing didn't die—it only became dormant as my sword entered. Removing the blade revived it, and piercing it subdued it, leaving me in a stalemate. Everything had to be so goddamn complicated, didn’t it?
Leaving the sword in, I took a step back. Nothing. Taking another step back, I then felt the rune on my arm. It would have been smarter to leave the blade within the monster, then summon it with the rune.
As my nerves began to settle, a distant scream pierced the eerie silence. Sebastian. Instinctively, I spun around and sprinted toward the source of the cry. "Sebastian!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the desolate ruins. There was no reply. Rounding the corner of another crumbling building, I came upon an old, dried-up fountain. To its left lay Sebastian's bloodied, mangled body.
"Oh my god," I whispered, drawing a sharp breath as I approached slowly. Kneeling beside him, I pressed two fingers against his neck. No pulse.
Examining Sebastian's corpse, it was clear that whatever did this was utterly ruthless. His nose was broken, and deep indentations marred his skull, as if from heavy blows. Scratches were strewn across the poor man's face. It had to be one of those creatures—the burn marks made that evident. "Bastards..." I muttered under my breath.
Though sick, I began to search his body, looking for something that could help. Initially, my efforts seemed futile—until I discovered a slender knife. Its handle was crafted from smooth, polished wood, and the blade, though diminutive, gleamed with a razor-sharp edge. I realized it might offer little assistance, yet I chose to keep it, nonetheless.
"Sorry." It was the only phrase that escaped my lips. Sebastian had died—because of me. But at least he had perished with the purpose of helping me eradicate Belzarok. In the end, perhaps it was for a noble cause. Wasn't it?
God. Another person lost to this fucking world. How many more?
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted as something drew my gaze. At the heart of the ruins of the old church, a crimson glow emanated from the center. It hadn’t been there moments before. It felt disquieting, as though I was not meant to witness it.
Without a second thought, I left Sebastian's lifeless body behind, as if it had completely vanished from my mind. I moved toward the crimson light, each step drawing me in.
The closer I got; the more details emerged. It looked like a fissure in the air, a stream of purple liquid that, after a moment of observation, ceased to glow. Was this the gateway to Hell? I had expected something more imposing, something grander. The destruction around me started to make sense. The discolored ground, the crumbling buildings—it felt as if this realm and the underworld were never meant to meet. As if a living being like myself was never meant to cross over. Yet here I was.
I blinked, momentarily disoriented, and found myself standing at the very edge of the portal. I carefully navigated over rocks and weaved between fallen timber. The portal now loomed directly before me; its presence undeniable. The sound emanating from it was haunting—a chorus of screams, a million voices wailing in unison, harmonized into a piercing, perfect pitch. The color was a mesmerizing ruby, so vibrant that it almost stirred an unexpected emotion within me. It was beautiful in a way that felt almost deceiving. A trick of the mind.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I reached out toward the gateway.
“We’re right here.” My mother’s voice seemed to whisper through the darkness. I glanced behind me with a shift of my foot and saw Odessa and Dunstan, with my mother standing between them. The image was so vivid and hauntingly simple. I knew it wasn’t real, but how I wished it were—anything but this goddamn madness.
I nodded with a weak smile, forcing myself to focus. Turning back to the portal, I took a deep breath and extended my hand once more. The moment my fingertips made contact with the substance; a chilling cold swept through me. Everything went black, dissolving into an inky void.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
