The ship continued sailing. Rhys stood at the helm, watching the ship tear through the waves. The empty feeling in his head did not go away.
He was sure of one thing: he had forgotten something.
'What could it be?'
He could feel a deep sadness coming from the water itself. It was a strange feeling, a low, constant melancholy that seemed to rise from the depths.
His memories had no explanation for it. The sea was just the sea. But his instincts, buried deep under the fog, felt the sorrow in the waves.
The other feeling was stronger. It was a pull. A constant, nagging desire that was not his own. It came from the back of the ship, from the huge iron cage covered in a black cloth.
It felt like a deep, desperate hunger. It was a feeling of need, and it was directed at him.
He had a sense of déjà vu from this feeling. Another strange fact was that whenever he tried to pinpoint where he had experienced this same feeling, his mind told him to ignore it.
