Violent waves crash along side the wooden planks, pushing the ship side to side. Rocking fiercely enough to make a normal land-faring man turn green. While I may not have a lot of experience out at sea, I have not been seasick in a long while. The sun is at its highest point during the day, hidden behind the clouds. Barely noticeable, even less so down here below deck. Dull slivers of light shine through the cracks in the main deck, but other than that, it's dark down here.

Something about this whole situation seems off. I am seeing through my own eyes, but I don't feel in control of my body. Turning of the head from side to side and shifting my legs from place to place are not of my voluntary choice. On top of all that, things feel oddly familiar. Like I've lived this all before.

I feel strange sitting down here on a bench attached to the wall. Angry, to be more precise. I don't know why, though. My head turns down and focuses on my hands. They are soaked in blood. Not of my own. I can't see anywhere I could be bleeding. Nor am I nursing a wound. This is someone else's blood. Still wet and dripping off my finger tips. Clenching one hand into a fist a strike the wall just behind me. My anger has boiled to the point of rage. My heart is pounding and I can feel energy rushing through me. It's a mixture of many emotions. Burning rage accompanied by dreadful sorrow and a fear of coming events. Something terrible just happened and I wish I knew what.

The creaking of loose floorboards above my head echoes in my ears. Multiple people move around up top. Constantly moving, never in one place for very long. I can faintly hear voices. Familiar sounding ones. Ahriman’s deep voice is most noticeable. It's a voice of power and confidence. Calm, very rarely reflecting his emotions. If he feels anything at all, it's hard to tell. He's the only member of the squad who carries himself this way. Fitting for our leader, I suppose.

The voices slowly fade away as they move toward the bow. I can still plainly hear footsteps, though. Thumping louder and louder. They are coming downstairs. Now entering the room I'm in. Ahriman followed by Khalm and Strah. They are escorting someone. I can't get a good look at him behind his hooded cloak. They continue to push him in front of me, heading toward the holding cells. As he crosses my direct line of sight, this man looks me in the eyes. I don't know him; I do know fear when I see it, though. This man reeks of it. He is afraid for his life.

The cell bars open and he is pushed inside. "Until we know you are innocent you are to remain here," commands Ahriman. He locks the door and heads back up above deck, followed by Strah. Khalm, however, lingers behind by a few seconds. Not moving, just... staring. His eyes, fixed on the man in the cell, are glazed with hatred and disgust. The way he is looking at him is almost as if he is mentally firing an arrow right into his heart.

Khalm breaks his gaze and heads toward the stairs. He looks my way and grunts, "Come on," continuing, "Ahriman wants to speak with us." Shortly thereafter he takes his leave upstairs. Putting my hands on my knees I stand up. I glance over at the cell and see the man turn his back to the wall and slide down it into a sitting position. With his knees to his chest, he briefly looks at me, and then down to his feet before closing his eyes and bowing his head. This man is deeply upset by something. I have a strong feeling it's more than just having to deal with spending the night in a cell. I can't continue to watch him, though. They are expecting me upstairs. Without wasting anymore time, I head up.

As I walk toward the captain's quarters of the boat, I can hear the loud creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet. Each step is accompanied by an obnoxious sound I can't ignore. This boat is old. Everytime it moves in any direction it lets out a cry of pain. Pain from overworked and tired joints. It wants to be done with its journey. It looks as though it’s seen everything and is ready to give out.

I'm above deck now. The sun is now covered in clouds. As far as the eyes can see the skies are blanketed. Snow is beginning to fall. It's not much, but is beginning to cover the boat. This chill leaves the skin feeling tight and brittle.

I'm here now. The captain's quarters are only a few steps ahead of me. Before continuing forward I notice a mop bucket sitting in the outer hallway with a small amount of water still inside. I stop and bend down on one knee. I can see my reflection in the water. It moves and shakes along with the rocking of the ship. The thought pops into my head again of how I'm not in control of what's happening right now. Somehow, I'm just a passenger in my own body. As I stare directly into my own eyes it feels as if nobody's looking back. I'm just an empty body walking around. My eyes turn from looking at the water down to my hands. Still red from blood that has now dried. They are more stable than before and I don't have a deep feeling of anger anymore. I've calmed a little bit and the feelings of hatred have turned into a darkened sadness. I take my hands and wash them off in the water, leaving the blood behind. The reddened water now obscures my reflection. I can't see into my own eyes anymore. Perhaps that's a good thing.

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I can hear someone's voice coming from the room. It sounds like Khalm. "Without any leads, we can only believe he is the one responsible for this." Someone else in the room grunts in agreement. Khalm’s voice raises slightly, "Someone needs to be held responsible for all those lives."

Hearing this makes me wonder again, Whose blood did I just wash away? I open the door and walk into the dimly lit room. Strah looks my way, acknowledging me being here but not saying anything to me. Khalm stands there with his arms crossed and nothing else to say. He exhales deeply, letting out the steam built up inside. Ahriman stands with his back to everyone, looking out the very large window in the room.

That's when I see it. A field of dead bodies lie outside. The island of Kheran has been wiped out. There isn't a single living person in sight. Men, women, and children all lay outside robbed of their lives. Families huddled together on the side of huts. Men struck down trying to protect their mates. Mothers still holding onto infants wrapped in blankets.

The snow is falling more heavily now. The faces in the distance will soon be covered, but not forgotten. That's a sight not easily let go of. I've seen death plenty of times before but never this brutal. It didn't even look like these people were armed. Slaughtered like defenseless sheep. Who could have done this?

Ahriman turns from the massacre and looks at us. "Our prisoner knows something about this," he states.

Strah immediately responds with slight hesitation in his voice, "You don't think he's the one responsible for this?”

Ahriman looks at Strah. "If this one man could erase a hundred lives from existence, then why would he be caught by the three of us?" Pausing for a moment to let his words sink in, he continues, "No, I don't believe this man to be a killer. His eyes may have seen bloodshed, but not his hands. He is very afraid right now, but will soon be able to tell us everything."

Khalm uncrosses his arms in frustration. "Soon? Why not now? If he has information that could help us, why are we just letting him sit down there?"

Ahriman waits a moment before replying. "He has been through a lot. Give him some time and I'm sure he will talk to us."

Khalm stares into Ahriman’s eyes intensely. Neither one of them breaking their attention from the other. Ahriman keeps a calm about him the entire time. Khalm, on the other hand, is boiling inside. He wants answers. Normally he is a very patient man, but under these circumstances, people act differently than how you've come to know them. After what seemed like an eternity, Khalm adverts his eyes, turns his back to Ahriman, and walks toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Ahriman asks in concern.

With one hand on the door, back still toward Ahriman, he replies, "Someone has to deal with the bodies," and with that, he makes his leave. Strah, looking back and forth between the two, shouts after Khalm, "I'll help you." He too walks out.

Ahriman turns and looks out the window toward the carnage. He lets out a deep sigh at the picture painted using innocent blood before him. "You look terrible, get some rest." says Ahriman, not even bothering to turn back he continues, "We set sail in a few hours. You'll need your energy. Be ready."