The sky had turned dark and gloomy, the day fading quickly as the merchant ship finally arrived at the western port of Whisperwood. The air was thick with the scent of salt and damp wood, and a strange, heavy silence hung over the docks. Upon arriving, the crew immediately began offloading the materials they had brought from other regions: crates of spices, rare herbs, and cured meats, all meant for sale before they ventured deeper into the cursed area of Whisperwood.
"Hurry up!" Captain Harlan barked, his voice strained. "We need to finish before the sky turns completely dark." His eyes grew heavy by the minute, and deep exhaustion etched across his face. The storm from weeks ago had taken its toll on everyone, and the long journey had worn them all down.
It took two straight hours to unload and load the cargo for the customers. The men worked in grim silence, their bodies aching from the constant labour. When the last crate was finally secured, they all walked sluggishly, dragging their legs against the ground to support their weight as they moved toward the town of Whisperwood. Their breathing was heavy, uneven, and unstable, each step feeling like a small battle.
Lucius did not forget to pull the hood over both his head and Dave's, despite the boy's struggle to keep it in place. "Hey, young man, you'd better put this on if you don't want to die," Lucius said, panting as he spoke with broken words. His face turned red with fuming frustration because Dave had refused for the third time. But upon hearing Lucius's warning, the boy immediately pulled the cloth over his head without another word.
They reached the town in about half an hour. The streets were narrow and dimly lit by lanterns, the buildings old and weathered, as if the very air of Whisperwood carried a weight that aged everything it touched. Getting to their assigned room at the inn, Lucius spotted a slightly bigger bed. Without a second thought, he collapsed onto it. His breath slowly returned to its normal rate as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with him.
The next day came so fast, with the sun smiling brightly at everyone, telling them to stand up and face another long day.
Reluctantly, Lucius stood up from the bed. For the first time, he took a proper look around the room, noticing Dave on another bed beside him, sleeping peacefully. The room was bigger than he had expected, with wooden beams overhead, a small window overlooking the port, and simple furniture that had seen better days. His thoughts were interrupted by Dalen, his fellow crew member, knocking on the door.
"Lucius," the guy called from outside, eyes still heavy with dark circles plastered on his face as he shuddered for balance. "The captain… is looking for you," he managed to say in broken words due to exhaustion.
Lucius opened the captain's door to find Harlan sitting down, mouth spread in a smile, but the smile never reached his eyes. Noticing it, Lucius dropped his own act as well.
"What do you want?" Lucius said, sighing as he took a seat.
"What is the percentage of us succeeding in clearing the curse area of this place?" Harlan asked in a low, slow, and chilling tone.
Lucius just smirked. "With me, 99 per cent. But if you and your crew ever betray me, I would kill you," he said, letting out a menacing laugh. "Harlan, tell your crew to behave. If not, I won't be able to count how many I would kill."
Harlan's smile faded completely. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You're bold, boy. But I've seen what you can do. Just remember this is still my ship. We clear the cursed area, sell the rare goods we find, and get out alive. No unnecessary risks. Understood?"
Lucius nodded, but his eyes remained cold. "Understood."
The conversation ended there, but the tension lingered in the air like a bad omen.
Later that morning, the crew gathered near the edge of the port, preparing to move deeper into Whisperwood. The town itself felt wrong. The buildings were old and weathered, the people moved with hurried steps, and a strange, faint mist clung to the ground even in daylight. Lucius kept Dave close, the boy's hood pulled low over his face.
As they walked, Lucius felt the first faint stirrings of a headache at the back of his skull, the early warning of those cursed memories trying to surface. He pushed it down, focusing on the path ahead. The cursed area of Whisperwood was known for its corrupted herbs and rare monster parts, items that fetched high prices in the bigger cities. But the danger was real. The land itself seemed to breathe with malice.
Dave suddenly stumbled. Lucius caught his arm instinctively.
"You okay?" Lucius asked quietly.
Dave pulled his arm away, but not as harshly as before. "I'm fine," he muttered, voice small.
Lucius didn't push. Instead, he spoke softly, "Do you remember what I taught you before? The basic movements with the knife, how to stay low and quiet, and how to hide your presence? If anything happens in there, use them. Stay close to me, but if we get separated, protect yourself first."
The words brought a sudden flash to Lucius's mind.
Flashback
It had been a quiet night on the ship, weeks earlier, when the sea was calm, and the stars were bright. Lucius had taken Dave to a secluded corner of the deck, away from the crew's eyes. He held a small, blunt training knife in his hand.
"Hold it like this," Lucius had said, demonstrating a firm but relaxed grip. "Not too tight, or your hand will tire. Not too loose, or you'll lose it when you need it most."
Despite Dave's refusal, he had to copy the grip, his small fingers struggling at first. Lucius had gently corrected him, showing him how to keep his wrist straight and his stance low.
"Stay low," Lucius continued, crouching slightly. "The lower you are, the harder it is for someone bigger to hit you. And when you move, move quietly like the wind, not like a storm."
Dave had practised the movements over and over, his face serious and focused. Lucius had watched with a mix of pride and guilt. This boy had lost everything because of him, yet here he was, teaching him how to survive in a world that had already tried to take him.
"Remember, Dave," Lucius had said that night, voice soft but firm, "the knife is not for anger. It's for survival. If you ever have to use it, use it to protect yourself and run. Never stay to fight unless you have no choice."
Dave had nodded then, eyes determined. "I understand, Brother Lucius."
End of Flashback
Back in the present, Dave didn't answer right away. He just nodded once, his eyes still guarded, but there was a flicker of something not trust, but at least acknowledgement that he remembered the lessons Lucius had given him during the quiet nights on the ship.
The crew moved cautiously, weapons ready, eyes scanning the treeline where the cursed area began. The trees looked twisted, their leaves a sickly shade of green. The air grew heavier, carrying a faint metallic scent that made Lucius's stomach turn.
Captain Harlan walked at the front, his face grim. "Stay close. The curse here is unpredictable. One wrong step and you might not come back the same."
Lucius nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel the dark energy inside him reacting to the corrupted land, not with a full headache yet, but with a low, constant hum. It was a warning. The memories of monsters, blood, and darkness were stirring, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The group pressed on, but the weight of the cursed land was already pressing down on all of them.
As the day wore on, the cursed area began to show its true nature. Strange, glowing vines crawled across the ground. The air grew colder, and a faint, whispering sound seemed to echo from the trees — voices that weren't quite human.
Lucius's headache started to build, a dull throb at the back of his skull. The memories were trying to surface again, flashes of monsters, blood, and darkness. He clenched his jaw and pushed them down. Not now. Not here.
Dave noticed the change in Lucius's expression. For a brief moment, the boy's eyes softened with concern before he looked away again.
The crew continued deeper, the tension growing with every step. Lucius could feel the eyes of the crew on him — some still wary, some quietly grateful for what he had done during the storm. But no one spoke about it. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of an unknown creature.
As the sun began to set, the group finally reached a small clearing. Captain Harlan called for a stop.
"We'll camp here for the night," he said. "Tomorrow we push into the heart of the cursed zone."
Lucius helped set up the tents in silence. Dave stayed close but didn't speak. When the fire was lit and the crew settled down to eat, Lucius sat a short distance away, watching the boy.
Dave ate slowly, his eyes fixed on the flames. After a long moment, he spoke without looking at Lucius.
"…I still hate what you did."
Lucius nodded, his voice quiet. "I know."
Dave's small hands tightened around his bowl. "But I don't want to be alone out here."
The words hung in the air. It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't trust. But it was the first crack in the wall.
Lucius felt a tiny, painful spark of hope.
"I won't leave you alone," he whispered.
Dave didn't reply. He just stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
The night deepened, the cursed land whispering around them.
And somewhere in the darkness, something dangerous and hungry was beginning to stir.