Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

Jude's breath came slow and measured as he locked eyes with the figure before him. A thousand questions stormed in his mind, but none seemed to form into words. The impossible had become reality. Someone he had watched die now stood before him, unscathed, unwavering. The air between them felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of the past.

Lyara's hand remained on her weapon, her knuckles pale from the pressure of her grip. Jude could feel the tension rolling off her, a mirror of his own unease. The forest around them had grown deathly silent, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting for what would come next.

"You should be dead," Jude finally said, his voice low but steady.

The figure tilted their head, silver eyes unreadable. "And yet, I am not."

Lyara shifted beside him, her stance subtly adjusting. Not quite defensive, but not relaxed either. "How do we know it's really you?"

The figure's lips twitched in something that might have been amusement. "Would it matter?"

Jude clenched his jaw. "It matters."

A slow breath left the figure's lips as they stepped closer. The others around them didn't move, watching with the same unsettling stillness. "You think death is absolute," they murmured. "You think what you saw was the end." They spread their arms slightly. "It was not."

Jude felt the weight of memory pressing against his thoughts. The battlefield had been a nightmare, blood and steel and the screams of dying men. He had fought beside this person, had watched their final moments. The way their body had fallen, lifeless, to the ground. He had been certain. There had been no mistake.

"Explain," Lyara demanded, her voice sharper than before.

The figure studied her for a long moment before exhaling through their nose. "If I were to tell you that there are forces beyond what you know, would you believe me?"

Jude's fingers curled into fists. "Try me."

A pause. Then, "I died that day. You are not wrong about that." The words were spoken without hesitation. "But death is not always the end."

Jude's stomach tightened. He had seen many things in his years, things he couldn't always explain, things that had made him question the very nature of the world. But this? This defied everything he thought he knew.

"Why are you here now?" he asked.

The figure's gaze darkened. "Because you are standing at the edge of something far greater than you realize. And if you are not prepared, you will not survive it."

Lyara let out a slow breath, her eyes narrowing. "Is that a threat?"

"A warning," the figure corrected.

Jude's mind raced. "You're saying the storm is already here."

The figure inclined their head. "It has already begun."

Silence fell between them once more, heavy with implications. Jude felt the weight of it settle in his chest. He had known, deep down, that something was coming. The messages, the unrest, the whispers of unseen forces moving in the dark, it had all been leading to this moment.

He just hadn't expected it to take the form of a ghost from his past.

Lyara was the first to break the silence. "What do you want from us?"

The figure regarded her for a moment before speaking. "To choose."

Jude's brow furrowed. "Choose what?"

A slow, deliberate step forward. "Whether you stand against what is coming, or let it consume you."

The words sent a chill down Jude's spine. He knew, instinctively, that this was no simple choice. This was something far greater, far more dangerous than anything they had faced before.

And somehow, it felt like they had been moving toward this moment for a long, long time.

Lyara exchanged a glance with him. There was a question in her eyes, unspoken but clear.

Do we trust them?

Jude didn't have an answer. But something told him that they didn't have much time to decide.

Jude could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Every instinct screamed at him to question, to demand proof, to make sense of the impossible standing before him. Yet, deep down, a part of him already knew the truth. The figure in front of him was not an illusion, not a trick of the mind or some cruel deception. This was real. And that made it all the more terrifying.

Lyara still had her hand on her weapon, her body taut with tension. She was ready to strike at the first sign of danger, and Jude knew she wouldn't hesitate if it came to that. He could feel her breath, steady but controlled, as she waited for his cue. They had fought together long enough to understand each other without words.

The figure before them, the one who should have been long dead, exhaled slowly before speaking again. "I know you have questions."

Jude clenched his jaw. "That's an understatement."

The corner of their lips twitched. "I will answer what I can. But we do not have much time."

Lyara's fingers flexed around the hilt of her blade. "And why is that?"

The silver eyes darkened. "Because what comes next is not something either of you are ready for."

Jude felt a chill run down his spine. There was something about the way they spoke, the certainty in their tone, that made his gut twist. He had faced countless battles, had stared death in the face more times than he could count. But this felt different. This felt like standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable, staring into the abyss without understanding what lay beyond.

"You said the storm has already begun," Jude said, keeping his voice even. "What does that mean?"

The figure studied him for a long moment before answering. "It means the forces that have been lurking in the shadows are no longer waiting. They are moving. And they will not stop."

Jude exchanged a glance with Lyara. He didn't need to say anything for her to understand what he was thinking. This was worse than they had feared.