"Brace for impact !"

The ship was thrown against the wave like a toy a child doesn’t want anymore. The sailors could hear the metal of the hull creaking, slowly starting to dismantle. The sea was waging war, and it had made it clear that it did not want them to get out of the battle alive. The men started to pray, some for the salvation of their soul, others for their family to live a good and long life, but none prayed for a miracle, because they all knew there was no surviving this storm.

Chance Guerrera wasn’t praying. Well, for once, she wasn’t a man. She was the only woman on board of this sinking ship, and she was also the one who had paid for it. Seeing it slowly breaking apart didn’t really seem to move her in any way ; for her, land was made to be discovered, men were meant to explore, and in order for all of this to happen, boats had to be used, and eventually, broken. She also had a few extra waiting for her in Lowa Bay.

Secondly, Chance wasn’t praying because she didn’t believe in any god. Her scientific upbringing prevented her from falling prey to any kind of bigotry. In her cartesian mind, if something was intangible, it was either a resource, either a concept, and most certainly not some omniscient and overpowered being roaming earth, sea and space since the dawn of time.

But above all, Chance wasn’t praying because she knew she was definitely not going to die there. How ? Was she a prophet, gifted with the ability to know the future ? Was she a meteorologist, and knew that the ocean would soon calm down ? Was she just overly confident and wrong about her probable demise ?

The answer was none of these.

"Could it be…"

Chance raised her head. Above her, struggling not to fall from the lookout he had attached himself to with a couple of wet ropes, a sailor looked like he had seen the ghost of the Malama Messiah. Completely livid but now with a fire burning in his voice, he yelled :

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"Land ! I see land !"

Every single person on board of the ship, including Chance, rushed to follow the direction the shivering finger was pointing toward. A couple of miles ahead of their gaze laid a vast island. It was inhospitable, gloomy, and very foggy, but it was definitely land. Cries of sheer joy started echoing on the deck, men embracing each other, once again full of the hope that had left their soul a few hours before.

"A miracle ! It’s a miracle ! We’re saved !"

Among these displays of happiness and relief, a manic laugh thrown overboard met with the sound of the raging waves. Bent over the handrail, eyes demonically wide open, Chance looked possessed.

"I knew it ! So much ether… There had to be something ! I found it !"

Seeing the slightly frightened and disturbed looks she was getting from the sailors next to her, she stopped and tried to compose herself. Still incredibly excited by her discovery, she stepped back into her cabin as the ship started maneuvering to approach the island.

"I made it", she smiled. "It’s mine, I’m going to be so rich…"

A scream straight from hell awoke her from her daydream. On the deck, the man that stood on the lookout just a few seconds before, and who had been the first one to rejoice over his salvation, was there, agonizing. His body was completely dislocated. His left arm had popped out of its socket, and bones from his legs were visible in multiple parts. But that wasn’t even the worst, as all of his skin seemed to be dissolving frighteningly quickly, unveiling his bare muscles and nerves. As a last effort to save his comrades, he opened what was left of his mouth. The bloody lump that used to be his tongue muttered :

"The fog…"

Chance was the first one to snap out of her stupor.

"The fog ! It’s poisonous ! Turn the ship around !"

No one moved.

"Now ! she screamed."

Her cry echoed into the blizzard.