Gentle waves nudged me awake, their rhythm familiar, stirring memories of a lost time. The smell of salt on the ocean's breeze, the feeling of wet sand beneath me brought fragmented memories. Of a better time before the Family started my Education. The sun beating down on me filled my body with a warmth that pulsed not from my Shard Core, but from the very marrow of my bones. A noise of pure primal contentment escapes my throat as full awareness returns to me.
Like the reptiles and cold-blooded animals, I basked in the sunshine, refusing to open my eyes and end the first peaceful moment I've had since I Awakened. I stayed still, floating in that rhythm; my body felt light, unburdened, as though something had finally let go.A stray thought brought light chuckling bubbling out of my mouth; I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't smelled fear in the air when awakening. As if sensing my awareness, the wave's rhythmic rocking became more playful—as if eager for me to rise and see what awaited me.
I rose cautiously, surprised at the ease, expecting pain and blood—but there was nothing. Only the sun's soothing rays, the scent of salt in the ocean air, and the sound of the water breaking along the beach greeted me. I gazed in awe at what lay before me.
A cluttered beach, littered with splintered wood, twisted metal, and scraps of canvas, all bleached by sun and salt. Newer debris drifted along the water's edge, bobbing in the tide. I swore I even recognized pieces of the ship I had stowed away on. With the sun's heat slowly turning scorching, I turn my attention to the shady jungle that defiantly grew at the beach's borders.
I made my way to the furthest edge of the debris-covered beach. There, in a comfortable patch of shade, I sank into myself, reaching deep within. My Shard Core throbbed steadily, undamaged from the ordeal. If anything, surviving a ship-breaking storm and washing ashore on this beach seemed to have strengthened me. For the first time, half of my Shard—half of myself—had grown.
My rare affinity for dual elements had sent shockwaves the moment I was born. Even more than my father's identity, it was what made my Family overlook my status as a bastard. In fact, my standing would have soared if my co-affinity had been anything other than Life attuned. Yet my mastery of the Family's primary Death affinity was the purest they had seen in generations. They forbade me from using half of myself, pushing me ever further into the embrace of the Necrotic arts.
It was the eve of my eighteenth birthday that I disappeared into the ocean. A whisper on the wind, had me in the right place to observe the Essance Shard my Family procured for my Foci. I watched as a dark ritual was performed, one that would leash me to the elders. So I had lulled the elders with feigned zealotry, only to follow my desire for freedom.
The escape was pitifully easy—my mastery of necromancy, honed under their watchful eyes, had surpassed theirs. Sneaking aboard a ship, however, was the hardest part. But luck was on my side that night as a bunch of drunken priests where setting sail. I had quickly stowed away below their deck, soon the ships movements eased my anxiety as it set sail.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shifting sand. Along the island's shore, as far as I could see, enormous crabs erupted from the ground. My first instinct was to draw on my Shard—but I stopped and watched. They paid me no mind. Instead, they combed the beach for the already dead.
Realization struck me then—the dead that had slowly started washing ashore. I recognized many of them, but there were far more bodies than the crew who had arrived. Understanding dawned on me: I must be in the path of a major current. Whether it followed anyone's routes, I couldn't tell—rescue would be minimal. I drew a deep, calming breath, stood, and brushed the sand from myself.
Without a Foci to channel through, Shard Casting is incredibly difficult. But with a flex of my will, the closest corpses twitched before rising to their feet. In concentric rings, further bodies followed as my essance spread. They began congregating in the shallows around me.
The crabs hissed, sending bubbles to the surface, and snapped their claws as the zombies moved into formation. Those still on land quickly took up a formation of their own.
I watched the crabs organize, astonished by their speed and intelligence. My gaze settled on the largest crab at the front, who seemed to be directing the orchestrated chaos. I opened myself up—not for the first time, but fully to both of my affinities—and directed calmness and peace toward the leading crab.
It shifted, and its eyes locked on me. Again, I directed: peace… food… eat.
Without hesitation, its eyes landed once again on the buffet before it, now knowing it was—it gave the call. And the horde advanced. I allowed myself a moment to admire the order I had wrought, then turned my attention to the island itself. Whatever secrets this place held, I intended to find them.
I walked the length of the beach, letting my eyes drink in the full expanse of the island I now found myself on. It wasn't large—small enough that I could circle it in a couple of hours—but every step revealed something new. Jagged rocks jutted from the sand like the spines of some long-dead leviathan. A barrier of thick vegetation marked the beginnings of a jungle, while strange, phosphorescent plants clung to the tide line. Wreckage, both old and recent, littered the shore, telling stories the ocean had delivered here.
My thoughts turn to the basics of survival: Food, Water, and Shelter. I knew where to find two of those three, but a base to orient myself would be best. The debris-covered beach coming into view in the distance has a slow almost childish grin spreading across my face.
I turned my attention to the wreckage scattered along the shore, scanning for the most intact vessel. Most were little more than splintered wood and rotting canvas, stripped by sun, salt, and time. But further down the beach, half-buried in sand and seaweed, I spotted a hull that had held together better than the rest. Its ribs were mostly intact, the sails shredded but still recognizable, and for the first time since I awoke, I felt a spark of possibility.
I made my way down the beach, weaving between driftwood and bleached debris. The sand crunched beneath my feet, punctuated by the occasional hiss or snap from the crabs still busy with their grim work.
The hull came into view, half-buried in sand and seaweed, tilted slightly as if bowing to the tide. Its wood was darkened and worn, yet much of it remained intact—ribs solid, deck warped but holding, sails shredded into ghostly tatters. I crouched to inspect it, brushing away a thick mat of seaweed.
The smell hit me first: salt and rot, yes, but beneath that, something else—something faintly metallic, almost like blood, lingering in the fibers of the wood. My fingers traced the grain of the deck, and I swore I felt a presence. It vanished, leaving behind a sense of longing—a longing that felt strangely familiar.
I knew then that this shell would become not just my home, but my freedom. The Skeletons long stripped clean, those the crabs had buried deep beneath the sand, arrived at my side with a silent call. A squad of seven split off as the rest where tasked with digging the ship out, these seven followed me as I sent off for the jungle. Within the island's verdant bounds a hidden sanctuary awaited.