"One Week Ago"
The sea stretched beneath the ship like a black, endless abyss as it cut through the night waves. The water moved sluggishly, as if it were thicker than normal oceans, as if it wanted to reach for them at any moment. Fog swirled across the deck, creeping over the masts, obscuring even the familiar outlines of the ship in the dim twilight.
Black Mark lay ahead, hidden behind a veil of darkness.
The coastline was little more than a distorted mirage, as if the island itself did not want them to reach it. Twisted land, eerie silhouettes of trees clawing at the sky like bony fingers, unnaturally still.
Rioji (calm, watchful) stood at the railing. His gaze rested on the approaching coastline—or what could be seen of it. Black Mark lay ahead, shrouded in shadow.
"We're here." His voice was quiet, but there was a weight in it that did not come just from the mission.
Rex (tense, but trying to play it cool) leaned on his belt with one hand and pulled a tired grin. "Honestly, I expected more spectacle. I'm starting to wonder if this is just some stupid myth."
Echo (focused, emotionless) passed him without looking. "Be grateful it's not a spectacle. If it becomes one, we've already lost."
The crew worked in the shadows of the lanterns. No loud voices, no shouts. Only the quiet slapping of the waves against the hull, the creaking of wood beneath their feet.
Kyro (thoughtful, uneasy) sat on an overturned barrel, his gaze fixed on the dark waves. A bad feeling coiled in his stomach. It wasn't fear—it was something deeper, something he couldn't name.
"This place… feels wrong."
Utak (grinning slightly, but uneasy) let a metallic die roll over his fingers, effortlessly shifting it from knuckle to knuckle. "It is. If anyone still lives here, they've adapted better than the ones who didn't."
Echo stopped, turning to the group. "If anything unforeseen happens—our meeting point is the Tower of Silence. We gather intel, we don't lose people. Everyone stays alert."
A faint crunch.
Lynora (cool, but alert) let her gaze flick over the coast. "And if the place itself turns against us?"
For a few heartbeats, no one answered.
Zayne (sarcastic, but tense), who had said nothing until now, flipped his knife through the air before catching it again. "Then let's hope it's at least polite."
The ship glided into shallow water.
The bow slowly dug into the dark sand, the wood groaning softly. The crew disembarked, boots sinking into the damp ground with a crunch.
And with every step they took into the earth, a weight settled over the world.
The Path Inland
The silence followed them.
The path was narrow, flanked by tall, gnarled trees whose trunks twisted upward in unnatural patterns. The wood was black, but not burned—it was as if light had never touched it.
The air was dense, sluggish, resisting every movement.
Each step was a whisper in the empty space.
No wind. No animals. No birds.
Only shadows, which seemed longer than they should be.
Kyro's (tense, inwardly alarmed) breathing was shallow. His gaze scanned the scene. Something was here. He knew it.
Utak (grinning slightly, but uneasy) raised his hand and let the metallic die slide from his fingers.
The die fell.
But there was no sound when it should have hit the ground.
It didn't land.
It was simply… gone.
The group froze.
Rex (glancing at the ground, confused, tense) frowned. "Where did it go?"
Utak (taking a step back, frowning) shook his head slowly. "That's a damn good question."
Then came the first tremor.
Not an earthquake, not a blast—but a wave of pure, tangible energy rippling through the ground.
A resonance wave.
The pressure in the air suddenly thickened. The faint crackling, which had been barely noticeable, swelled into a sound that filled the entire space.
A hum, deep and vibrating, spread through the surroundings like an unending bell.
Kyro's (shocked, inwardly alarmed) heart pounded.
"Take cover!" Echo's (calm, but razor-sharp) voice cut through the stillness.
Then reality shattered.
The world twisted.
The sky flickered—not like an illusion, but as if it were just a thin layer over something much larger.
A pull seized them, an invisible grip—not wind, but a force that moved between worlds.
Kyro saw the others distort—then it tore him away.
The Village
His consciousness slowly returned.
The scent of wood and warm stone reached his senses.
Not earth. Not blood.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
He lay on solid ground. Not forest floor, not rock—but wood, smooth planks showing little wear.
His head felt heavy, his balance not fully restored.
A village.
Not decayed. Not abandoned.
He heard voices.
First indistinct, then clearer—conversations, laughter, the clatter of tools on wood.
Kyro pushed himself up, his gaze sweeping over the scene.
People.
All around him. Men, women, children—they went about their business as if nothing was different from any other day.
Someone carried a basket of fruit through the streets. An elderly woman cleaned the steps of her house with a damp cloth. A group of teenagers ran past a well, laughing at an invisible game.
It felt so… normal.
Too normal.
A movement out of the corner of his eye.
Utak (already standing, testing his body) rolled his shoulders as if checking if everything still worked. His expression was a mix of amusement and wariness.
"So, either we've landed in a damn good illusion, or this is the friendliest hellhole I've ever seen."
Kyro didn't reply.
His gaze wandered over the people's faces.
Friendly. Open.
But his instincts warned him.
Nothing on this island is as it seems.