The days blurred into sunrises and starfall. The sea was no longer foreign to Herzl—it had become a silent companion. Wind in the sails, Kael's laughter echoing from the deck, the occasional call of seabirds skimming low over the waves. There was peace here, but not without mystery.
On the twelfth day at sea, a thick fog rolled in—unnaturally fast. It coiled around the ship like fingers, dampening sound, turning the sea to glass. Kael leaned over the edge, squinting. "That's not normal weather. Feels… like we're being watched."
Then it appeared.
Out of the fog rose jagged cliffs—an island that hadn't been on any map, surrounded by blackened waters and strange, skeletal trees that grew too close to the shore. The ship creaked, not from wind, but hesitation.
"This place," Herzl said, narrowing his eyes, "wants to be forgotten."
A small fishing boat approached them, as if summoned. A single old man rowed it, his eyes clouded white with blindness, but he spoke directly to Herzl.
"You've stepped into a land where memory doesn't die—it feeds."
Kael frowned. "What does that mean?"
But the old man was already turning away. "You'll see… or you'll forget."
Docking was difficult. The mist never lifted, and even Kael—usually filled with jokes and complaints—grew quiet. Herzl stepped first onto the island, hand brushing the hilt of a blade he swore he wouldn't need.
Ruins covered the interior, overgrown with black vines and whispering grass. Symbols etched into stone flickered with faint light. The deeper they went, the more strange it became—shadows moving where there was no light, voices echoing their own thoughts back to them.
Kael murmured, "I saw… my mother. She was in the trees. I haven't thought of her in years."
Herzl stopped. "This place—feeds on who we were."
In the heart of the isle, they discovered a massive obsidian monument. It pulsed softly, rhythmically, like a heart. And behind it: a mural, ancient and broken, showing a continent engulfed in flame—and a figure standing at its edge, cloaked in stars.
"Who is that?" Kael whispered.
Herzl felt his heart pound. "I don't know. But I think they're waiting for me."
That night, under a blood-red moon, the island trembled. The whispers became screams. The past clawed for the present.
And Herzl realized… this was no forgotten place.
It was a warning.