There was a saying that there was always a light at the end of a dark tunnel. Adam knew this and he understood it for what it was, a metaphor for hope.

But in his case, it was literal. A light shone at the end of the tunnel in front of him. It was a pale glow in the distance that slowly brightened as he neared. The waters around him were calm and the air cold and still. He was alone, with the blood and tears of his mother still on his now ragged clothes.

The past few hours had been a blur for Adam. After burying his mother in a grave he marked with a circle of stones and topped with leaves, the now orphaned young man boarded the dinghy with an aching and bitter heart.

But he made a promise. Be good. It was the last thing his mother wanted him to do and he knew his father would agree. They always wanted him to be good, and so he was, and he would continue being so.

Still, it hurt. When he entered the tunnel, he was encompassed by absolute darkness. Using his psychic sense, he avoided the formations of rock and stone that protruded over the narrow stream within the cave. However, he soon noticed that there was no need for him to be careful. The current, slow and steady, did not allow his small boat to stray too far. The stream carried him forward and onward, towards an unknown place and fate.

The darkness and stillness of the cave, coupled with the unexpectedly long journey through it, gave Adam time to remember and think. And he hated every single second.

The recent memories crippled Adam and his mind, reducing him to a weeping husk of a man. He had lost everything. His family. His future. His life.

But still he forged on, alone.

The light grew brighter as Adam approached. He noticed that he didn't see an outside beyond it. Instead, there was only a wall of light, bright and white. Adam felt that there was something wrong and he rose to stop the boat using the paddles.

However, the stream grew strong. The current sped, pushing his dinghy faster towards the light. Adam tried his best, but whatever caused the once calm stream to stir and churn was powerful and did not relent.

Adam passed through the wall of light screaming his lungs out, and he continued doing so when he found himself spat out onto a stormy ocean.

Towering waves hundreds of feet high rolled around his dinghy in a chaotic dance, carrying his mismatched boat over the rising, violent waters. He grabbed hold of the sides, clinging to dear life as hurricane strong winds slammed against him all the while heavy rain bore down on his body like a whip, battering him with each gale that struck low and hard.

Adam yelled obscenities as he fought against the storm and the waves, pushing away walls of water with equal waves of telekinetic force. His hands stretched, punched, and swung as he summoned forth his power in a vain attempt to calm the roaring sea. The waters burst with each telekinetic strike, but it proved to be for naught. Adam could do little against the powerful anger of nature as it brought to bare several thousand tons of water against him.

Much to his horror, he turned to realize his dinghy was about to get swept up by a cresting wave. The tallest so far. Fearing the worst, he quickly created a telekinetic bubble around himself and the boat, forming an artificial air pocket with solid yet unseen walls that kept the winds and waves at bay and forced him afloat, but it also left him unable to maneuver.

The ocean did not relent against his defiance. Thunder roared as lightning illuminated the dark, shrouded sky, branching across a thick layer of black clouds. Adam roared, bellowing his voice into the stormy night, echoing over the vast expanse of churning sea.

With memories of tragedy and loss still fresh in his mind, Adam remembered his father, his mother, and the life he once had a mere few hours ago. He didn't care if they weren't his real parents. He didn't care that they lied to him all these years. He didn't care if he was the product of a top-secret government experiment. He didn't care about any of these things.

Adam was loved, and he loved them back. He knew this to be true, and the people he loved wanted him to live. And live he would.

The wave fell upon the telekinetic bubble with a loud and hard splash, slamming Adam and his boat deep beneath the angry ocean. A painful headache racked Adam's brain as he exerted more of his power to reinforce the bubble against the heavy pressure of the ocean around him. He hoped to survive. He hoped that the bubble had sufficient air inside to bring him back up to the surface.

But it was for naught. Something else came to visit. It first came in the form of a murky shadow from the dark abyss below, causing Adam to grow pale as he realized its presence. Using his telekinesis, he felt the mind of the leviathan that approached, and he was terrified. It was incomprehensible, and massive.

As Adam was about to try and lift the bubble upward towards the surface by grabbing hold of it with his telekinesis, a voice called out from the depths, emanating from the now massive shadow lurking beneath his feet and boat.

"You will live, Adam of the Sun." Came a deep and ethereal voice. It echoed across the ocean and filled Adam with dread, and most confusingly, comfort.

But before he could come to terms with what he had heard, a massive fin appeared from the depths, slamming against the bubble and shattering it completely. Just before Adam was swept away by the waters that rushed to fill in the now exposed air pocket, he saw two bored eyes looking at him from the murky depths.

Then one of the paddles slapped Adam across the face as the water rushed, knocking him unconscious.

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Adam awoke to the sound of waves crashing against stone and seagulls singing in the distance. It was a terrible tune, a horrible sound, but they sang nonetheless. He was alive, and he was grateful.

Or maybe this was the afterlife? Adam became unsure. He moved his toes, then his feet, and then began dragging his arms across what felt to be hard pavement, or stone bricks.

Adam had little energy, and he didn't like it. His psychic sense was diminished and his telekinetic output was less than ideal. He felt himself weak and defenseless, nearly powerless if push came to shove, but it didn't seem like he was in any danger. Yet he was not alone.

Adam opened his eyes to find himself staring at a bright yellow sun, feeling the heat of its light prick on his exposed skin as squinted against the brightness.

Then a shadow loomed over his vision. A man with a round face, a bushy beard, bald head, and thick brows looked down on him with a frown, scrutinizing his condition. Adam knew that he was supposed to be concerned, scared even, but a part of himself said otherwise.

The man snorted before speaking in a language Adam didn't understand. It was unfamiliar to his ears, and the words that came out of the man's mouth were unlike any words he knew back home, foreign or otherwise.

But of course it was possible that Adam was simply ignorant. That said, it was still a problem that they didn't understand each other.

In response, Adam shook his head, "I don't understand you, sir."

It was the man's turn to become confused. He twisted his face upon hearing Adam speak, visibly coming to terms that the stranger he was speaking to was a foreigner who did not understand him. In spite of that, the man simply shook his head, mumbled some words under his breath, and stood.

The man then made some crude gestures with his hands, a sort of charade to try and communicate with Adam. From what Adam understood, the man was inviting him to eat and sleep, or rest, at a place, in the direction he was pointing at.

Adam remembered how his parents warned him about strangers and the risks and dangers that came with trusting them. Unfortunate for him, he was tired, dehydrated, hungry, wet, and fatigued. He was practically limp. Even if he didn't want to, he had no other choice.

Sighing internally, Adam nodded to the man and received a nod in return, accompanied by a smile showing crooked and missing teeth. Not a great first impression.

The man stood, talking and gesturing to someone out of view as he did. Kneeling again, Adam was lifted from the ground by the man and his unseen companion. They carried Adam to a wagon, placing him carefully over bundles of hay. Dizzy and a bit lightheaded, Adam made out the other person to be a younger, very thin man with short golden hair and one good eye. The younger man noticed Adam's gaze and gave him a smile, his teeth mostly intact.

Both strangers proceeded to pull the wagon by hand, with Adam laid over their original delivery. Wet hay could not be sold, and Adam was drenched. But the men didn't seem to mind. Adam did not care that the hay pricked and rubbed against his skin. He thought it a mild inconvenience compared to the battle for survival he had to endure mere hours ago, or had it been days? His sense of time was all over the place now.

As he tried to recall and recollect his thoughts, it dawned on him again that the reality he was in was real. He was not dreaming. His life had been turned upside down. And his parents were dead, murdered in cold blood.

Another wave of tears rolled down Adam's face as the wagon jolted and bumped. There was much for him to think about, and to either accept or deny. Whatever happened, he needed to be strong. He needed to survive.

The strangers made their way across an elevated stone path that served as a wall that separated the sea and land. Waves crashed against walls of smooth rock and carved stone, splashing in great bursts. Adam was sure that it was a sea wall, and it looked old from the looks of it.

What troubled Adam and piqued his interest the most, however, were the ringing bells that steadily grew in sound as they made their way towards what he believed to be a town. He knew this by the large number of minds he could sense with his power, but there was something off about them.

Wanting to be certain, Adam wiped his tears and turned around to look at where they were headed. As soon as he did, he was greeted by a greater confusion than before.

He saw what could only be described to be several medieval galleys docked at a medieval-looking port.The docks were made of logs, planks, and other types of wood, and were stacked with barrels and crates. Many of the buildings were made from carved stone blocks, bricks, or a mixture of both. The ships were made from planks, reinforced by crude metal frames, and had sails and lines upon lines of oars. Many flags and banners fluttered against the strong wind that blew from the sea, and Adam recognized none of the designs.

Men in dirty and rugged tunics labored on the docks, loading and unloading cargo from the galleys, while men and women in colorful robes made arrangements or barked orders in the same unknown language Adam couldn't yet understand.

Adam could make out the dock workers, the crews of each ship, their captains, and the port officials, but they were all dressed in the wrong time period.

Was he in a movie set? Adam began to think. If he was, why were there no cameras rolling or other modern equipment in view? Or maybe he was in a theme park, surely.

Using his telepathy, Adam gazed into the psychic landscape that prevailed over the port, a product of minds when grouped together. He felt nothing but fatigue, boredom, some contentment, and some resentment from the workers and crews. Meanwhile, the port officials were either stressed and focused, or uncaring and filled with greed. There was little in the way of joy or happiness, but there was peace and order. They worked. They lived.

This was no theme park, or museum, or reenactment. Adam was beginning to realize what was happening, but the absurdity of it all beguiled his judgment.

What finally convinced him was his destination. The men loaded him off at one of the two-storey buildings near the docks. Though he only managed to have a short glance, Adam saw that it was crude, old-looking, and rugged. The sun had bleached whatever color the stone and brick walls once had, but there were still tints of pale red that remained.

Upon entering through the door, Adam was assaulted by a mix of smells that made him scrunch his nose. It was a mixture of ash, the sea, and alcohol. Several other people were inside what looked to be the lobby and they greeted the two men who carried Adam with loud greetings. The language, just like before, was completely unknown.

Looking around, Adam saw that nobody had a phone, neither was there a TV, or even a light bulb. Instead, the room was lit by torches attached to the wall, casting flickering shadows. People drank from wooden mugs, laughing underneath tunics, gambesons, or worn fur and leather.

The collective attention of the lobby soon fell on Adam as the men carrying him began talking and glancing at his direction. Adam did not care, for he had not the energy to spare. The tired young man simply lowered his head, ignoring their gazes.

The two men soon made their way towards the stairs and carried Adam up the second floor and brought him to a room. It was a humble space, with only a bed, a small round table, and a stool as furnishing.

Adam was placed on the stool and given a linen towel to dry himself with. Still unable to understand each other, Adam thanked him regardless.

"Thank you." He said. The man nodded and smiled in response, understanding what he meant.

Before leaving, the bald man made another set of gestures. Food. Adam nodded and the men went on their way, leaving him to dry, wait, and ponder.

He did not cry, for no more tears would fall. He did not scream, for his voice was now hoarse. Instead, he began to dry himself. After all, he'd hate to ruin his new bed.