The skies over Ebinigma were always calm, deceptively calm. Clouds rolled like silent whispers across the horizon, casting shadows over jagged cliffs and dense, twisted forests. But beneath the island's beauty, something dangerous had begun to stir.
The waves crashed against the rocky shores of Ebinigma, sending a spray of cold mist into the air. But it wasn't the wind or the water that made the island dangerous—it was what lay within. There were things on the island that should never have been made. Creatures that prowled the forests, eyes glowing in the dark, waiting for the chance to strike.
The curse of Ebinigma growing strong yet again, Misho grew cautios. He knew he had to come back.
Misho was at the deck of a ship, looking with watery eyes at the island. Staring out the gray sea. The ship waiting to take him back to the mainland loomed behind him like a shadow, but it was the island itself that haunted him. He had left it behind for a reason—yet here he was, preparing to return.
The air near the island always tasted salty, but now it carried something wrong. The ship was coming back. Misho and his guards were now on it. He looked at the thousands of people there.
Misho went for the ship cabin. He watched the distant horizon, the weight of his family's legacy pressing down on him like a burden he could no longer ignore.
Suddenly, a voice on his radio. It was a male, old voice. It looked like he somehow knew Misho—and the reason for him returning to his home country.
Radio: "Haha, I may be old, but you can't hide anything from me, Misho."
Misho froze at the sound of the voice on the radio. His fingers hovered over the dial, unsure whether to respond. He hadn't told anyone about his return. How could they know?
Radio: "You think I don't remember that place? The things your grandfather created? Ebinigma has always been more than an island."
Misho exhaled slowly, leaning against the cabin's small window. He could still see the shadow of the island growing larger in the distance. It loomed there, an ever-present reminder of what awaited him.
Misho: "Who is this?" he asked, though he already had a suspicion.
Radio: "Don't play dumb, boy. It's Viktor. It's been years, but I'd recognize your voice anywhere."
Misho's heart sank. Viktor. The last time they had spoken, Misho had been a young man, barely able to grasp the weight of the family legacy. Viktor had been one of the old guards, a man who knew more about the island's secrets than almost anyone. Except for Reece, of course.
Misho: "I didn't expect you to still be alive," Misho replied, gripping the radio tightly. "I thought the island had taken everyone."
There was a pause on the other end, a low chuckle that crackled through the static.
Radio: "Oh, it's taken plenty. More than you'll ever know. But not me. Not yet." Viktor's voice softened, as though he knew exactly what Misho was thinking. "You're returning to the graveyard, then? Bringing those fools with you?"
Misho glanced through the cabin window at the guards outside. Some of them were seasoned mercenaries, men and women who had seen more battlefields than he cared to count. But none of them had ever been to Ebinigma. None of them knew the island like he did. Like Viktor did.
Misho: "I don't have a choice. There are people still trapped there."
Radio: "You think you're going to save them? Hah! The island doesn't let people go, Misho. You know that. It changes them. Twists them."
Misho clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the rising tide of unease in his chest. Viktor was right. The island had a way of corrupting everything it touched. But he couldn't let that stop him now.
Misho: "I won't abandon them," he said quietly. "Not like my grandfather did."
There was silence on the other end for a moment before Viktor responded.
Radio: "Reece thought he could control it. But even he underestimated what he created. I hope you've learned from his mistakes, Misho. The island has changed since you left."
The radio went dead, leaving Misho alone with his thoughts. He set the device down on the table and stared at the map of Ebinigma spread out before him. The island's terrain was familiar to him, yet every line, every mark felt alien now. He wondered what horrors had awakened in the time since he had left.
Outside, the wind began to pick up, and the waves grew more violent, crashing harder against the ship's hull. Misho closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath.
There was no turning back now.