Mid-1300s

"Captain!"

He looks up from the papers in his hand. His men had just forced him to retire for the night. Why would they need him already? He glances out the porthole; nothing seems amiss. The waters are calm, but there's a niggling at the back of his head. It's strange.

The waters are so still, the air not making even a whistle that the silence is deafening. An odd thing to happen at sea. The ship feels like it's barely moved in days. It's the 13th moon of the year, they were meant to be home days ago.

"What is it?" he asks, curious.

"There's an island up ahead. Peculiarly shaped at that."

"Island?" The captain furrows his brows and inspects the map that he had previously lain out on his desk. "There are no records of an island around these parts. Peculiarly shaped, you say? How so?"

"Best if you see it for yourself, Capt'n."

Before he had even finished his sentence, the captain had already stood, grabbing a piece of blank parchment on the way.

The captain stands on the forecastle, one eye looking through the hole of the parchment he had rolled up along the way. "Peculiar, indeed."

The night was dark, but the full moon sheds enough light for him to take note of the shape of the island - a perfectly geometric triangle. The captain had never seen an island with such sharp angles. "Alter our course to starboard," he tells his men. They were starting to run low on food, anyway. Perhaps this island would offer some fresh fruit.

They anchor their ship a good distance away, and the captain takes a few of them with him to board the tender and row ahead to shore. They dock on one of the edges. The island is empty, bare of any essentials. The captain shivers, feels malevolence in the air. He's about to call for his men to head back for the ship when one of them makes a sound of exclamation. "I found a cave!"

He's pulled inside. The chills down his spine only get worse.

The captain holds up his hand, palm facing upwards, lets his core energy focus on making light. His men, save for those whose cores are stuck dormant, do the same. The cave is littered with shining obsidian, along the walls, up the top of the cave, crunching underfoot. At the end of the cave, they hit open air. The cave ceiling opens up, moon shining bright against the largest obsidian that lies in the middle of a pool of black water. A naturally formed trapezohedron. It would fetch him a handsome amount when they got back home.

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Take it. Step into the water. Take it.

He starts to hear whispers in his ears. He shakes his head. The captain forces his eyes to look away. When his head feels clearer, he notices one of his men take a step into the water. "Get back. Don't touch it!"

But both his feet are already in the pool. It's shallow, only reaching his ankles. The captain holds his breath. Then, suddenly, the man collapses, like his strings have been cut. The ground starts to shake, the whispers in his ears grow louder and louder until they're screaming. He sees two of his men grab the limp body, careful not to touch the water. "We have to get out of here. Go, go, go!"

They scramble outside and all at once, the shaking stops and the screams die out. They pant, trying to catch their breath, when he hears a sharp slap and a large intake of breath. His eyes snap to the man who had stepped into the pool.

"What happened?"

"That's what we should be asking you, boy," he grunts. "You stepped into the pool then dropped like a fish."

His eyes widen, shocked, like he hadn't experienced it himself firsthand. "I- I don't remember."

The captain narrows his eyes, but doesn't say anything else. "Bring him back to the ship. This island is bad news. The sooner we leave, the better."

The sun is rising when they make it off the island.

"What is that? Smoke?"

"Smoke doesn't shoot out of cave openings like that."

"They just keep coming out. Look."

"Whatever it is, at least we made it out before it happened."

The captain had hoped that was the last of it, but days after the incident in the cave, everyone had started acting a little off. He had just logged in the events in his logbook when he hears a scuffle on the main deck. He shuts the book closed with a huff. Hopefully he'll make sense of all this when they get home.

"What are you sissies fighting about now?" his question comes off more aggressive than he'd intended, but it halted them in place for a while, at least.

Then they start talking over each other, the explanation turning into jabs before devolving back into a full-blown argument. The captain feels like a vein in his head had burst. He hears the thwack of a sword embedding itself in the ship's bulkhead, effectively separating his two men. It takes him a good minute to realize the sword is his. His men are staring at him. He hadn't even realized he had thrown it.

"Get back to work!" he growls in the shocked silence.

~~~

When the mainland is only days away, half the crew had fallen ill. It had started with the swelling. Some felt feverish, experienced terrible aches and pains. Others were stuck in the head (toilet). They only had one, so they had to wait in line.

The captain had noticed that those whose cores were dormant were the ones to first experience these symptoms. He was beginning to feel signs of swelling on his person as well. Though, with how close they are to making land, he's sure he can make it before then.

He was making rounds when the first death happens. They stare at the body in rapt horror. Blood and pus had seeped out of his swellings. His eyes, trained on the door they were standing in, had been enveloped in black. None of them notice the malicious aura that had settled in every corner of the ship.

Half of the crew follows his death afterwards.

The captain makes haste to dock the ship when the screams start. He turns quickly when the door behind him swings open. Standing there, with his eyes glazed and bloodied sword in hand, is one of his men. The one who had stepped into the water back in the cave.

The captain barely has time to mutter a curse before the sword, coated black with malice, swings toward his neck.