The island of the damned

The ocean stretched endless in every direction, waves rolling in slow, deliberate movements, the sky shifting in muted shades of gray.

The ship cut through the water, steady, precise—too silent.

Alex inhaled slowly, pressing against the railing, fingers gripping the edge too tight, his mind still catching up, still forcing itself into the weight of where they were.

The Forsaken Isles.

Not legend.

Not myth.

Not distant whispers lost in time.

They were real.

And now—

He and the GC crew were here.

The island rose jagged from the sea, the cliffs cutting uneven shapes against the horizon, the mist curling along the edges like something alive, waiting, watching.

Kira stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Vale muttered a curse under her breath, shifting against the weight of her restraints.

Jun stood near the helm, casual, relaxed—like he wasn’t dragging them into something irreversible.

Like he had always known they would end up here.

Then—

Another voice.

Sharp. Unfamiliar. Wrong.

Alex turned slightly, his breath catching at the sight of the figure standing at the dock.

Mask.

Blade resting at their side.

Posture too steady, too knowing, too ready.

A presence that said one thing.

This isn’t the beginning.

This is the end of whatever life you thought you had before.