The gentle sunlight fell on his face, warm and cozy, dispelling the chill that had seeped into his bones.
Hert stood dazed on the beach, barely moving his stiff neck, his gaze gradually lowering as he saw the girl hugging his waist.
Peals of laughter rang out, and the girl looked up, revealing an innocent and pure face, with dimples on her fair cheeks.
Thinking Hert hadn’t heard her, the girl spoke again.
"Welco back, Dad."
A voice buried deep in his mory resurfaced, and Hert’s body shook involuntarily as if electrocuted.
A sharp pain erged in his mind, but soon it blurred and eventually faded away. Hert felt he had forgotten sothing.
Hert looked at his casual shirt and shorts, noticing tiny grains of sand between the nails of his fingers. His hand stiffly rested on the girl’s head. The mont they touched, Hert was incredibly tense, as if fearing the girl would vanish into smoke before his eyes.
The girl didn’t disappear; Hert’s palm received feedback. He could feel the softness of her hair and distinctly make out every strand...
"Em... Emily."
Hert almost forced the na out of his throat, as if sobody was pressuring him to call it out.
The girl, hearing her na, slowly released Hert and looked up at him with a beaming smile.
"What’s wrong with you?"
A woman ca over, gently placed her hand on Hert’s shoulder, and looked at him with concern. "You look a bit off."
"I... I think I had a nightmare."
Images of the battle inside the Paradise flashed before Hert’s eyes, with the undead slashing at each other with swords and blades in the most brutal way.
It was a horrific feast, and Hert was part of it, clutching bloody swords, trying to seize sothing from this big ship.
Now, what he longed for was within reach.
"A nightmare? You must have been in a deep sleep."
The woman chuckled lightly, covering her mouth, and took hold of Hert’s right hand. At the sa ti, Emily also reached out and grasped Hert’s left hand. The three of them advanced together, swinging their arms with vigor.
Hert wasn’t used to such warmth, nor did he understand why. Yet instinctively, he felt that none of this belonged to him, though the choice was in his hands. If he wanted, he could let go at any mont.
Hert tightened his grip.
A wave of warmth flowed from his palms. Hert felt his spirit was comforted and saved, yet at the sa ti, he sensed sticky, wet hands pulling at his body. Those hands seed to be sared with blood, spreading it evenly over him, as if countless dead were standing behind him, watching intently.
Vigilantly, Hert turned around. All he could see was the golden sand and the ocean. The weather was nice today, with not a cloud in the sky.
The woman said to Hert, "We should get going."
"Where to?"
Hert didn’t want to go anywhere; he just wanted to stay with them until he got tired of it. Hert felt he would never grow weary.
"Don’t you have work to do?" The woman questioned Hert back. "Think carefully, what have you forgotten?"
Hert hesitated for a mont. Crunching and crackling noises echoed in his mind, like the crisp sound of shattering glass or the breaking of an icy surface, as dark water surged up.
"The rescue plan, is it?"
Hert dug up the mory from its grave and continued, "A cargo ship carrying Alchemy Armant, they lost power and are drifting endlessly at sea."
"Yes, let’s go," the woman glanced at the small island in the sea, a place she really liked, "We’ll co back as soon as possible to continue our vacation."
"Is your body okay?"
Hert expressed concern for the woman, aware of what she had sacrificed for him. The woman wasn’t accustod to life at sea, but to be with him, she chose to sail on the restless sea, day and night. Even their daughter had lived mostly aboard since birth, having rarely set foot on land.
The woman smiled at Hert, "It’s fine, I’m alright."
Hert nodded and took Emily’s hand. Their ship was docked not far away, with another large ship moored next to it. Suddenly, a voice called out to Hert.
"Hert!"
A familiar voice preceded a familiar figure, as a man waved to Hert, asking, "Are you really okay?"
"It’s alright, let handle it, Nolen," Hert said to Nolen, "Your ship needs a few more days to resupply. Who knows where they’ll drift by then? Leave this task to ."
Hert’s ship was fully ard and ready to set sail. Nolen’s was not; he had just finished a sea battle, and his vessel bore many scars.
Of course, Nolen’s enemies had fared far worse. By now, those pirates were resting in the deep sea. Ever since the Tidefolk decided to engage in comrce, traditional piracy had beco increasingly difficult.
"Are you sure it’s okay?"
Nolen uncharacteristically nagged and sought Hert’s thoughts once more.
Hert paused in silence, suddenly realizing that his next decision would influence the course of events. Hert must make the right choice.
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