——— Chapter Art (Click to view) ———
Alice only stayed for a year after. Saying she had things to take care of before leaving Naren alone on that lonesome island. On the beach of that same island, a crudely built raft was pushed onto the obsidian black waters.
Yawning, Naren grabbed his makeshift paddles. If you can even call them that. He was now seventeen.
"Damn Alice."
He began speaking in a mocking tone bobbing his head.
"I didn't have help when I became a shaman, so you need to do this on your own too...As if I wanted your help. The faster you leave the faster I can relax."
As he paddled, a couple kilometers away from the shore, he became increasingly more annoyed. Yawning he fell down onto the raft. A strange sound had been buzzing in his ears. Like a lot of water being displaced. A lot.
"Urgh, it's so loud."
He stretched but in the process an even louder sound arose, scaring him. Covering his ears Naren looked into the dark black waters below him.
"Just for a second. Lemme relax a little!"
The water around him circled into a vortex. In the middle an island sized shadow loomed, with it's maws open.
He took a long breath through his teeth grimacing.
"Is it too late to say sorry Alice?"
With that the maws collapsed onto Naren's raft, swallowing him whole.
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Among dark murky waters, a ship sailed, rough in course. The water was in itself alive. Currents bending in ways it shouldn't. The ship already had crude repairs around it, but with no land in sight, it sailed on reluctantly.
On the deck, a little girl sat with a slightly oversized sailor uniform, akin to a school uniform. She was short for her age—couldn't be older than nine. Dark hair fell just past her shoulders, failing to hide her pale, almost sickly face. Despite this, her hair was well maintained and combed.
Her eyes were staring in silent resentment, directly at a man holding another in his sight alone.
The man's hair was fully buzzed, a little tattoo of a broken crown completely ensnared by a rose wrapped around it peeking through his neck. The same symbol was etched into an emblem on his coat along with three chevrons and one rocker underneath.
"You lost the map to Thera?"
Vera watched, the private facing the man tremble. For a second they made eye contact, but he averted it right away.
"I-I'm sorry Sergeant. I didn't mean to lose it. I just-"
The Sergeant patted his shoulders before letting out a Hearty laugh.
"Come on, relax."
The Sergeant brushed some dirt off the private's shoulders.
"Don't worry too much. Mistakes are what make us human after all."
The private, breathed a sigh of relief. Finally able to calm down. He gave the Sergeant a salute before leaving on his own.
"Thank you, Sergeant."
The Sergeant walked over to the little girl, noticing the untouched bowl of food in front of her.
"Are you not hungry Vera?"
She didn't respond, instead averting her eyes, refusing to look the man in the eye.
As a gentle breeze blew, the sleeves of her shirt ruffled, revealing freshly made bruises.
The Sergeant turned back towards a soldier mopping the deck.
"Bolka! Can you bring the others up please."
"Y-yes sir, Sergeant."
He then turned back to Vera, who was still showing adamant discomfort.
"There, you can eat with your friends now."
He bent down and stared at the plate of mush in front of her, then back up at Vera.
Her eyes locked onto the Sergeant with disdain.
"I wish you would fall to hell."
The Sergeant eyes shifted. A flash of hatred in between the warm beats. He raised his hands.
Vera flinched, trying to protect her head, trembling, when a voice stopped the Sergeant from behind.
"Don't touch her, bastard!"
A sickly man with short grey hair and wrinkles covering his face stood alongside many other prisoners, all shackled together. He had crude bandages lining every part of his skin not already covered by his clothes.
The Sergeant, turned back. His eyes cold as his lips curled in, one side of his mouth raised slightly. The kind of look you give to a dog that just peed over your carpet.
"I'm sorry. I don't think you have room to talk here."
By the time he looked back, Vera had already slipped out. Running to hide behind the old man. At the last stretch, her legs interlocked, tumbling over.
'Why do I always trip like a kid?'
Walking over, the Sergeant undid his belt, raising it high above his head. Vera's eyes instinctively shut tight. Avoiding the fear that leads up to her punishment, she muttered under her breath.
"Why could you not simply die."
Just then, as if to answer her wishes, the ship began to tilt.
Way more than normal. In fact, it was almost completely parallel with the water. With it, the ship also began to pick up speed. Faster and faster.
People, supplies, anything loose tossed around the ship. At the mercy of gravity. One by one, bodies fell into the sea below. Wails fading into the bubbles of the dark depths.
As waves washed onto the deck, the ship continued to spin like a top. Faster and faster, everything became a blur of images — Sky, sea, sky, sea, sky, sea. It was like a flashing of images that quickly turned a smudge of the both of them.
Vera grabbed the railing beside her, holding tightly.
'No, no. I promised mom.'
Her grip tightened. A pit in her stomach quickly expanding. With trembling eyes, her conviction slipped away along with her grip.
"S-someone! Help!"
Her wish wasn't granted this time. Instead, the ship spun faster. Pulled fast into the vortex in the middle. Into the maws of the island-sized shadow just below the surface.
Complete darkness encapsulated Vera's world as her body was tossed around. Her hands still gripped around the railing, or at least what she hoped was the railing. She had long since closed her eyes.
Her back collided with something hard, then against something fleshy. She could swear she heard the squeal of another human, but she was too afraid to accept reality.
Her grip finally let go, her body tumbling to a stop at last. As she opened her eyes, she saw an enormous cavern of fleshy walls. Bioluminescent glows emanating in pulsing waves. Somehow she was still alive.
Vera grabbed onto her head, getting to her feet, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. In front of her was a fleshy shore. An oily, murky liquid crashing onto it repeatedly.
Several islands of debris filled up the waters, made up of lost wreckages, bodies, dissolving organic matter. And directly in front of her, twenty meters floating on the waters was the wreckage of the ship she had just been on.
It was perched on an island of debris, tilted, and half gone. From the bow, to the deck, to everything forward of the mast was torn off. The exposed interior gaped open. Splintered wood and metal hung loose, a couple bodies pierced or hung lifelessly, hollow eyes still stuck with a moment of fear.
She tried holding it in. It was unladylike after all. But after about three seconds, she puked out all her insides. Making sure to brush her hair back and keep her clothes clean in the process.
"W-where?"
Turning around a crouched figure stood eye to eye. Only two yellow beading eyes visible through their darkened expression.
"We're in hell."
Vera yelped as she fell back, immediately putting her hand on her mouth, as if accidently letting the scream slip.
"I-identify yourself!"
The figure fell back laughing.
Taking a second to regain her composure, the little girl began scanning over figure: A boy drenched in sea water. Dark red curly hair plastered to his face, with a crimson scarf embracing him.
Her face turned into a scowl as her mood dropped.
"Wh-what in the world is wrong with you?"
Vera picked up a loose piece of wood from the ground and held it over her head.
Naren sprang up, slowly stabilizing his breathing. Locking his golden eyes with Vera's. Her hands trembled in the air. Naren didn't lift his hands. He was curious to see how far she would go.
"I like your accent. Sounds fancy."
A warm voice came from beside them. Throwing a shudder down Naren's spine.
"Vera."
Vera quickly hid behind Naren. Her legs shaking.
"Wh-what are you here for?"
Naren picked her up from behind him by the back of Vera's shirt.
"Whatcha think you're doing?"
The Sergeant walked up to Naren. A slight limp noticeable as Naren glanced at the blood stains around his knees.
"Who might you be?"
Naren made an annoyed face, refusing to look the man in the eye. Instead he scanned the new wreckage for any food. He'd been here for three days and was starving.
He threw Vera down, before reluctantly looking at the man. Yawning. His eyes half asleep.
"Naren, a shaman...almost."