He reached the shore.
The sky hung low, heavy with clouds that drifted like pale ash across the horizon. The sand beneath his feet was black, cold—like powdered bones burned centuries ago. And the water… thick, gray, lapping quietly at the beach with no rhythm, no life.
There… he saw it.
A boat. Or what remained of one.
As if it had died a hundred years ago. The wood was cracked, swollen with salt, gnawed by time. One side had collapsed, seaweed wrapped around it like green fingers refusing to let go. It looked like something from an old painting, one of those that showed desperate sailors under a cursed sky.
It wasn't seaworthy. It wasn't good for anything.
And yet, he approached. Slowly. As if something in him was being called.
He didn't feel danger like he did with the monsters… it was a different feeling. Older. Quieter. As if the boat remembered something… something that should never be remembered.
He stepped closer. The boat creaked.
Not from the wind. From inside.
It was a small boat… barely big enough for a single body. And when he got close, he saw it.
An old man. Long dead. His body rotting, his stench thick, carrying the taste of the sea and ruin.
Death had not come gently to him—it had been violent. His face was collapsed, his skin cracked, his ribs jutting out like fingers beneath gray flesh. He lay there like something forgotten… a worn-out piece of a curse that never faded.
There was no choice.
The boy, despite his age, despite his loneliness, dragged the corpse in silence. His hands trembled, his blood froze… but he pulled it. Hauled it from the boat onto the black sand, where half the body sank into the salty earth.
Then he climbed in. Sat down.
In a dead boat, on a gray sea, beneath a sky that knew no mercy.
Time passed. No hours, no sun, no night… just slow movement, wave after wave, the breath of the sea singing a song he couldn't understand.
Sometimes, the sea shimmered a beautiful blue, as if lying to him. Sometimes, the waves rose, roaring madly around him… but he never fell.
Then… day came.
But it wasn't what he imagined.
The sky turned from dark ash to pure blue, and the sun rose… bright, harsh, merciless.
He thought it was salvation. But it was only a new torment.
The heat was unbearable. His skin burned, turned crimson, peeled from the sheer fire. He tore off his damp shirt, now rotting instead of ashen, thinking it would help… but the heat boiled in his veins.
His hair—golden-brown and soft—had changed.
It had grown long, its color turned pure blond, glowing as if the sun itself clung to it. It fell over his face, covering it completely, so no one could see him anymore.
Yet… he had a face. A face so unbelievable… he inherited it from his mother, the woman whom everyone said was more beautiful than dreams.
But now his face was hidden. Buried under pain, time, and hair.
And night came. Finally.
But when he raised his eyes to the sky… he froze.
The moon… wasn't white. It was red. Blood-red.
And the stars? They weren't still.
They spun, danced around him, flashing and fading like old rituals… like they were waiting for something to begin.
He began to feel it. A vast presence… deep in the sea.
He couldn't see it, but he knew. Something big. Enormous. Formless. Sometimes he thought it was right beneath the boat… still, watching, waiting.
And some nights… other shapes appeared. Like the creatures from legends—half-woman, half-fish.
But these were not beautiful. Their mouths were wide, filled with needle-like teeth, their eyes black and lidless.
They sang to him. Soft voices, tender—like a mother's call.
But he didn't hear.
It wasn't courage, or resistance… it was hunger.
He was so hungry that his ears stopped recognizing sound, his brain no longer translated words. He even thought, delirious, of eating them. But they were far… far like a mirage.
Hours passed. Then days. Then days that couldn't be counted.
The boy… was dying. Over and over.
Dying of hunger. Dying of thirst. Dying from burning under the sun… dying from the cold when the wind blew, from terror when he heard movements under the boat, from loneliness, from exhaustion.
But he never stayed dead.
The gift the old man gave him—that mysterious healing—brought him back each time.
But to what? To pain. To five minutes… only.
Five minutes to live, to breathe, before his body broke again. Before his skin burned or his heart stopped or his throat closed from thirst.
It wasn't life. It was hell.
And through it all… the sea kept singing. The moon stayed red. And the thing in the deep… kept waiting.
More days passed. Days without names, without hope, without taste.
But something strange began to happen at night.
The sea changed. On some nights… it became a mirror.
Its surface completely still—no waves, no breath. Like glass poured over the earth.
And the sky? Reflected perfectly—every star, every swirl, every depth of darkness. As if night had leaked from above to below, and the boy sat between two nights… one above… and one beneath.
He looked around, and the boat was gone. The sea was gone.
Everything became light and shadow, dancing stars, distant planets, sacred silence… as if the world forgot how to breathe.
And for a moment…
He thought he had died a different death. Or drowned in an endless dream.
The stillness was terrifying… beautiful… but behind that beauty, there was a feeling. A strong feeling that something in the depths was still there. Watching. Waiting. Never sleeping.
In that moment, the boy wasn't hungry. He didn't hurt. Even his breath forgot to leave his chest.
Everything froze. As if the entire universe sat with him… watching the sky.
But like everything in Gor'Sekra… beauty does not last.
At the peak of stillness… at the heart of poisoned beauty… something happened.
It wasn't a sound. It was a shadow.
Massive. As wide as a continent, as long as time itself.
It moved under the mirrored sea. But didn't disturb a single drop.
The boy gasped, but no sound came out. The thing was walking. Just walking.
It wasn't hunting him, wasn't lurking. It was passing by.
As if it didn't see him. As if the boy didn't exist.
From above, the creature looked like an endless ribbon… a body slowly twisting, covered in black scales and closed eyes. And on its back were other bodies… hanging, dead, or asleep—he couldn't tell.
It passed beneath him. And as it did, its body reflected on the water like a phantom. Even the stars went dark where it passed, as if it swallowed the light.
And the boy? Sat frozen. Everything in him silent… except his heart.
It pounded like war drums, but the creature never stopped. Never turned.
It was too big, too ancient to see humans, to care for them. It passed like clouds over a mountain… slow, silent, eternal.
And after it vanished into the distance, and the sea returned to a mirror, the boy felt his body again.
He breathed. But he didn't know if what he saw was real… or just another dream.
He woke that morning not because he wanted to, but because the sun stabbed him again.
It burned like every day. As if it enjoyed his suffering, watching him peel, burn, choke from hunger and salt and sweat.
He opened his eyes… halfway.
He thought he would cry, but his body was dry. No tears left.
Then something happened…
The light… vanished.
Great black shadows covered his body. At first, he thought a cloud had passed. But then he heard a sound…
Wood groaning. Ropes shifting. Wind tearing at sails.
He looked up.
He saw it. A ship.
No… not like those in stories. It was real, colossal, floating above him like a mountain.
And in its shadows… he saw faces. Or thought he did.
People?
Were they people? Was it a real ship? Was he saved? Was the nightmare over?
He couldn't answer.
Everything was blurry… the sound, the light, the faces, the shape of the ship… even the sea around him had become strange.
But he didn't resist.
He let his head fall back, let his eyelids close.
And for the first time in a long while… he didn't die.
He… slept.