Although it was dark outside, I could still see the vast array of mountains being approached in the distance, pointing high towards the stars. However, there was a single cut—a split—inside one of the largest mountains in our way. It separated the mountain in two, creating a ridge-like passage. That ridge was small, narrow, and covered in edgy rocks.

King Richard II and all the kings before used this plot of rough land for defense purposes against foreign intruders. Bonemount—the town we came from—was still a part of Harvoria, but distant from the capital, and close to foreign lands. The Black sea stretched east and west far beyond the horizon, leaving nothing but free territory to travel. Circling the mountains to avoid the ridge would prove pointless in almost every way, as there were many highstorms, along with a massive waste of time.

This ridge prevented assaults, stopped attackers, and gave way for those who knew how to pass. Merchants found it useful, although there had been many shipwrecks, creating further problems for future passages. If you didn’t know how to traverse through the split, then you could consider your ship added to the collection on the ocean floor.

La Pionera was a large ship, built to take on the harshest of storms along the water. It was built to take damage, and to deal it. All sides were hardened and protected, but crossing this ridge would prove to be a challenge. That, I was sure of.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked again as the ship quaked up and down, wrestling my balance.

Leonidas made an innocent face, keeping his voice hidden in the back of his throat, “Just some relatives at home. They’re worried sick ‘bout me. I promised them I wouldn’t be returning until after the adventure.” He laughed, fakely. “Would you like to speak to them?” He pulled out the orb again, handing it over.

I gave him a wry look, grabbing the orb from his weak hands. After observing it for a moment, that bastard slipped from my vision like a shadow in the night. I jolted my head behind me, seeing his devilish smile staring back at me with a knife pressed up against my throat.

As always, I lower my guard for even a moment, and the whole world slips from my fingers. Never lower your guard, Sig always said, not even for a fly. Sig was a good man, strange, but good. He taught me how the human body operated. He taught me how to think, how to observe, how to stay hidden, how to use my—”

“Shh, Shh, Shh.” He whispered, placing his finger against his lips. “One sudden noise and…” He gently pushed the blade into my scar, making me feel the pain I felt all those years ago. As he dug the tiny point of the blade into my neck, the ship seemed to have hit a rock of some sort, making us bounce up and down like sailors in a storm. Leonidas managed to keep his grip on the blade firm, careful not to do more damage than was intended. He was skilled, too skilled for someone who was afraid of traveling alone.

A few drops of blood ran down my neck, and he leaned in even closer. “You still don’t remember, do you?” He asked, almost laughing. “That vial seemed to have worked better than expected,” He mumbled that last part to himself, but I could still hear his arrogant voice.

I still don’t remember? That was an odd question to ask me. I didn’t spend my time observing him too much, except for that time in the woods. Either way, his question caught me more off guard than the knife digging into my neck. I gawked into his eyes; a gentle blue hue from his pupils reflected back at me.

A few seconds passed, and my tongue swelled up behind my teeth. His voice became more clear. His smile more illustrious. His chin young, yet old from what it has endured. It was him. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. He had to have been the warden. There was no denying that smug look he always gave me; it couldn’t have been anyone else. He looked nearly twice as old now. His face had a similar structure, and his eyes were still the same as before, so how could I not recognize him at first? Was it the hair? The attitude? The weakness I felt from him? The eyes?

“There you go.” He said, noticing that I remembered. “I always wondered how you managed to escape for a second time. It fascinated me how such a lowly boy could accomplish such a task. Who was behind those explosions? Did you miraculously manage a letter of some sort?”

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I squinted my eyes, perplexed. Even after all these years, Leonidas himself didn’t know the root cause behind the explosions? This seemed odd, too odd to question given my current state.

“You look stunned.” He beamed. “Have you spent all these years pondering about your life choices? Have you been hiding in the off chance that I was still alive and wanted your head on my paddle?” He cackled, tightening his grip on the blade. “No… You’ve been afraid, afraid of your past and what it’s done to you.”

I spat, unsure if he was right or wrong. Either way, I felt an odd feeling wrap itself around my heart. A feeling I hated, one that I wanted to escape from for so long. A feeling of being secluded, lost in the world around me as if nothing ever mattered. I felt alone. Distant from everyone and everything.

Meanwhile, the ship hit yet another rock, and this time, we were both sent flying against the railing. My body slammed against a metal rod, but it wasn’t as bad as a bare-handed punch against it. I carefully picked myself up off the floor, noticing the mountainside engulfing the ship inside its corrupted pathway.

Leonidas quickly sprung up from the floor, flipping the knife in his hand and charging at me. A strange grimace occupied his face, along with flailing hair and scolding eyes.

When it came to hand-to-hand combat, I was skilled. In fact, I’d be bold enough to put myself pretty high on the ranking. I learned a lot about movements, patterns of footwork, and prediction—all through my years in the Gulag, and my years as a free man. However, an inner fear of my past prevented me from moving, and my feet felt like two blocks of ice on hot coal. Why now? Why can’t I move...

Leonidas swung the knife from the bottom of his hip, aiming for my stomach in hopes of causing enough pain for me to avoid fighting back. I managed to dodge with a quick step back, then another, then another, and then another.

I was dodging easily—his movements were far sloppier than mine—yet my hands wouldn’t fight back. Something inside of me refused to hurt this man, and I couldn’t get a hold of whatever it was. It’s as if my body didn’t want to accept Leonidas as the final scar on my arm... Luckily enough, it didn’t need to.

After dodging another attack, Leonidas caught me blindsided and sprung his knife into the center of my thigh.

“Grggh!” I grunted as a brutal pain shot up my leg. It felt as if the nerves in my thigh had fired all at once, amplifying the pain to an extent I wasn’t used to. The blade was only in there for a second, leaving no room for hesitation from Leonidas.

He ripped out the knife and flipped it again—this time aiming for my throat. “You’re dead!” He cursed, however, just as he initiated the swing, a brave, yet somewhat docile hero came to my miserable rescue...

Mooks leaped onto Leonidas’s back, sinking his teeth into his arm as if it were a piece of steak.

“AHHHH!” Leonidas yelled in a sea of pain, feeling the pressure of Mooks’s teeth sinking deeper and deeper into his skin. He tried to break free from Mooks’s gruesome bite, swinging and flailing all over like a madman. He roared painfully, Mooks’s teeth piercing through the layers of his skin like tiny arrows through an apple.

Blood began to soak through his clothes, and the pain in my leg made me far too slow to help my companion. My throat clogged with grunts, blood bubbling out of my thigh like a ruptured faucet.

Leonidas tossed his knife into his other hand and plunged it inside of Mooks’s abdomen. Mooks whimpered so bravely it nearly hurt my heart just to hear that painful noise escaping through the tip of his throat.

As the grip of Mooks’s bite loosened around his arm, that bastard sunk the knife even deeper inside my dearest companion. Blood started seeping from Mooks’s body, staining his luxurious white fur with rivers of dark red gore. Leonidas forced the knife out of Mooks’s body, throwing him overboard like an empty old bucket.

“NOOO!” I yelled as I tried to get up, but that damn pain in my thigh restricted any sudden bursts of movement I initiated. My leg wouldn’t answer me, and using my other one would only do more harm to the first. I somehow managed to gather the strength to kneel—fighting through the pain—but Leonidas sunk his knife into my kidney faster than I could react to.

I wheezed so loudly it’s as if all the breath in my lungs just vanished without a trace. I slowly fell to my knees, and he ripped the knife out of my body again.

I began to fall, pain spreading too quickly to notice. Leonidas caught me in his arms, dragging my pitiful body to the edge of the railing. “Go and die like the good boy you were.” He whispered in my ear, hurling me over the railing.

As my body fell overboard, I could see him smiling at me from above. Smiling just the same as when I clung onto his boot, thanking him for sparing my life. Smiling like the time he gave me my most gruesome scar. Smiling as if he knew he’d finally gotten rid of me.

After that, I let the pain wash over me, and my eyes fell into the darkness.