Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

The man smiled. "You begin to understand."

Jude took a step forward. "What is this?"

"A test."

Jude narrowed his eyes. "A test for what?"

The man spread his arms, gesturing to the battlefield around them. "To see if you are ready."

Jude didn't like the way he said that. "Ready for what?"

The man's golden eyes gleamed. "To awaken."

Jude didn't get a chance to respond before the world shifted again.

The battlefield vanished.

One moment he was standing in the midst of battle, and the next, he was somewhere else entirely.

Darkness surrounded him, stretching endlessly in every direction. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above him, and yet he remained standing, suspended in nothingness.

And then, a voice spoke.

It was not the voice of the man in silver and black. It was something deeper, something older. It echoed in his mind, reverberating through his very soul.

"You have walked the path of the forgotten."

Jude turned, but there was no one there. Only the voice, surrounding him.

"You have fought against the tide, refusing to be swept away."

He clenched his fists. "Who are you?"

The voice ignored his question.

"But the time has come to remember."

Jude's breath caught in his throat. "Remember what?"

The darkness shifted, and suddenly, he was no longer alone.

A figure stood before him, shrouded in mist. He couldn't see their face, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about them. The way they stood, the way they held themselves, it was like looking at a reflection of someone he had once known but had long since forgotten.

The figure raised a hand.

And memories flooded in.

Pain. Fire. A city burning. The sound of screams echoing in the distance. A name whispered in the wind, a name that sent a shiver down his spine even though he couldn't quite hear it.

A throne, bathed in shadow. A crown, dripping with something darker than blood.

And then, the eyes.

Golden. The same as the man in silver and black.

Jude stumbled back, gasping for breath. His head felt like it was splitting apart, the weight of the memories crashing down on him all at once. He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to steady himself, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.

The figure in the mist spoke.

"You were never meant to forget."

Jude's vision blurred. He felt himself falling, the darkness swallowing him whole.

And then,

He woke up.

He was lying on his back, staring up at a sky that was no longer shifting, no longer unnatural. The battlefield was gone. The warriors were gone.

Only Lyara remained, kneeling beside him, her expression tight with concern.

"Jude," she said, her voice steady but firm. "What happened?"

Jude sat up, his head still spinning. He looked around, half expecting the man in silver and black to still be there, watching. But there was no sign of him.

Only the silence remained.

Jude swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to explain what he had seen.

Lyara studied him for a long moment before sighing. "You're different."

Jude blinked. "What?"

She shook her head. "Something about you changed."

Jude didn't know how to respond to that. Because deep down, he knew she was right.

Something had changed.

And he had a feeling it was only the beginning.

Jude exhaled slowly, his breath uneven as he pushed himself upright. The world around him felt different, not just in the way the air seemed heavier or how the silence pressed against his ears, but something within him had shifted. The memories from that void still lingered, slipping between the edges of his mind like whispers he couldn't quite grasp. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to ground himself in the present. Lyara watched him closely, her brows furrowed in concern. He could feel her gaze, steady and unwavering, as if she was waiting for him to speak. But what could he say? That he had seen something he shouldn't have? That a voice had spoken to him, telling him he was meant to remember?

The weight of her silence grew, and finally, he sighed. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice lower than he intended. "Something happened, but I don't know what it means yet."

Lyara didn't push him for more. Instead, she nodded once, accepting his answer. It was one of the things he appreciated about her, she understood that not all battles were fought with swords, and some wounds couldn't be seen. But the unspoken question still hung between them. If the man in silver and black had been testing him, then what had he been testing for?

Jude looked around. The battlefield was gone, replaced by rolling hills and scattered ruins that stretched into the horizon. It was eerily quiet, as if the world itself had paused. No wind, no birds, just the stillness of something waiting to happen.

"We should move," Lyara finally said. "Whatever that was… it wasn't natural."

Jude nodded, though he wasn't sure where they were supposed to go. They had been fighting for their lives just moments ago, and now, there was nothing. He pushed himself to his feet, feeling the ache in his muscles, a dull reminder that whatever had happened wasn't a dream. His body still remembered the battle, even if the battlefield itself was gone.

As they walked, the silence remained, unnerving in its depth. It wasn't until they reached the edge of the ruins that Jude noticed something was off. The stones weren't just broken remnants of a forgotten place; they were charred, as if fire had consumed them long ago. He crouched down, running his fingers along the surface. The scorch marks were old, but the air still carried a faint trace of something, magic, maybe, or something older.

Lyara stood beside him, her expression unreadable. "This place…" She trailed off, hesitating for the first time since they had arrived.