Children of Gehenna

The boat rocked gently on the dark, churning water as it cut a path away from Eldoria's harbor. Tristan was sat near the stern, his wrists still bound by the same heavy shackles that have bit into his skin. Around him, the atmosphere was strained; even the guards who kept a close watch on him and the other prisoners offered no more than silent stares.

 The crew moved with practiced efficiency, avoiding any talk of the island that awaited them. Every face he passed seemed burdened by an unspoken anxiety, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were simply superstitious or if there was something far more unsettling about Gehenna. 

Tristan's gaze was once again caught on the horizon. The sky was full of deep blues and grays, and the light of the moon diffused through thick clouds. There was a strange quality to the sea tonight—at times it lay calm, still as if holding its own breath, and then suddenly the waves would rush with unexpected force. He watched, transfixed, as the water morphed from a gentle sheet to a restless, churning frenzy before settling back into a deceptive calm.

'This isn't normal,' he mused internally. 'Nature should have its own steady pace. But here… it's as if the sea itself is uneasy about what lies ahead.'

He recalled hushed whispers he'd overheard among the crew before the journey began, their eyes darting to one another as if sharing a secret too heavy. Tristan didn't press for details—he had little interest in a past he couldn't change—but the silent fear of the men and women around him made him wonder if the stories of Gehenna were more than mere superstition.

The guards, tall and silent, walked beside him at intervals, their presence a constant reminder of his status as a prisoner. Their expressions were still unreadable, and Tristan found himself questioning whether any of them truly believed the fate they were enforcing.

As the boat pressed steadily onward, Tristan's thoughts wandered. He remembered the moment he had first set eyes on the vast sea, the glimmer of hope that he might escape even his tarnished name. Now, each wave seemed to wash away that hope a little further, leaving behind only the cold reality of his situation. While not executed, Gehenna might just push him to the point where he wished for it.

'I must keep my eyes open,' he reminded himself. 'Every detail, every whisper of the wind, might be the key to understanding what awaits on Gehenna.'

'Focus on the details,' he told himself. 'The shifting patterns of the waves, the changing light of the night sky, the look on the guards' faces. Everything might help me understand what lies ahead on that damn island.'

His internal dialogue continued quietly as the ship sailed into a new area, the behavior of the sea below changing. One moment, the water was a mirror reflecting the cloudy sky; the next, it roiled with an energy that made the boat shudder. Tristan leaned forward, squinting into the darkness to better understand the sudden turbulence.

He felt a pang of curiosity and uncertainty. Was it merely the effect of shifting winds, or was there something more at work—some ancient force that stirred beneath the surface? The thought made his heart beat a little faster, a reminder that he was moving toward something unknown.

'Something… unimaginable. It's as if the sea is alive.' he thought. 'Restless, unpredictable… almost like it's warning us away from what's to come.

As the hours passed, the outline of an island began to emerge on the horizon. At first, it was barely visible—a dark smudge against the night sky—but gradually, its shape became clearer. Jagged cliffs rose from the water, and patches of dark, dense forest hinted at secrets hidden within. The island seemed to hover in a perpetual state of twilight, shrouded in a thin mist that gave it an almost otherworldly appearance.

Tristan's eyes narrowed as he watched. 

"So that's Gehenna…" he said quietly, a mix of resignation and determination swirling within him. Noticing the curiosity of everyone but the captain and the crew.

'There's no turning back now.' The sight of the island stirred something deep inside him—a spark of resolve that pushed back against the numbness of exile.

Even as the island came into view, the boat continued its steady course. 

Tristan's internal dialogue shifted to planning and assessment. 'Once I'm ashore, I'll need to be cautious. The crew's silence and the strange behavior of the waves… there's something off about all of this… I have to watch every step I take.'

He studied the guards again, noting the way they shifted their weight and exchanged furtive glances as they neared their destination. The alertness was unbroken, yet Tristan knew that beneath their rigid composure, there lay unease. He wondered if any of them had ever actually set foot on Gehenna, or if they were merely carrying out orders.

'I may be their prisoner, but I'm no stranger to danger,' he reflected. 'I've seen enough to know that fear can be both a weapon and a weakness. I must not let it control me, even now.'

The boat slowed as it approached a cove on the island's edge. The entrance was marked by sharp rocks jutting out of the water like silent sentinels, and the mist that shrouded the island grew thicker. 

Through the darkness of night, he saw the landing area—an isolated stretch of beach bordered by dark, tangled vegetation. The sight of it brought a moment of clarity: this was where his fate would truly be decided. The uncertainty of the voyage was behind him now; ahead lay the unknown perils of Gehenna.

Tristan's thoughts became endless as the boat drifted closer to the shore. 

'Stay alert. Take note of every detail. Find a way to make sense of this place once you're there.' The internal dialogue was not loud, but it pulsed through him.

Then without any word, the crew dropped the anchor and the vessel came to a complete stop. 

Tristan had arrived.