Isaac and Nolan walked silently through the dense forest, the weight of the night's events pressing heavily on them. Their clothes were torn, their bodies bruised, but neither spoke of the pain.
The village was still and quiet when they arrived, the early morning light casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Most of the villagers remained in their homes, no doubt fearful after the commotion of the days before. The only sound was the distant clinking of tools and the occasional crow of a rooster.
Nolan turned to Isaac. "We'll meet back here in an hour?"
Isaac nodded, his expression calm but serious. "Take your time. I'll do the same."
Nolan gave him a small, grateful smile before hurrying off toward his home. Isaac watched him go before taking a deep breath and heading toward his own.
---
Nolan's Goodbye
Nolan pushed open the door to his family's small house. The sight of his father, Dr. Henshaw, hunched over the kitchen table with his head in his hands, made his chest ache.
"Dad," Nolan said softly, stepping inside.
Dr. Henshaw looked up, his face worn with exhaustion and grief. "Nolan…" His voice cracked as he stood and pulled his son into a tight embrace. "You're alive. Thank God you're alive."
Nolan hugged his father back, tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, Dad. I'm sorry about Mom…"
Dr. Henshaw pulled back, shaking his head. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. But I can't keep you safe anymore. Not here."
Nolan nodded, already knowing what his father was going to say. "I'm leaving. Isaac and I… we're going to find our way out there."
Dr. Henshaw's expression softened with understanding. He walked to a nearby cabinet and retrieved a worn leather notebook, its pages filled with handwritten notes and sketches. "This was your mother's. Every cure, every technique, every discovery she made is in here. I want you to have it."
Nolan took the notebook with trembling hands, holding it like a treasure.
"And this," his father continued, setting a small medical kit on the table. "It's not much, but it'll help you get started. There's also some food packed—just in case."
Tears streamed down Nolan's face as he nodded. "Thank you, Dad. I'll make you proud. I'll make both of you proud."
Dr. Henshaw placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "You already have."
---
Isaac's Goodbye
Isaac's home felt eerily quiet as he stepped through the door. His mother was sitting in the living room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She looked up when she saw him, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
"Isaac," she whispered, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around him.
Isaac stood still for a moment before returning the hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'm okay, Mom."
"You're not okay," she sobbed, her grip tightening. "You're hurt, you're exhausted, and now… now you're leaving."
Isaac gently pulled back, looking her in the eyes. "I have to, Mom. It's not safe for me here anymore. But I'll come back. I promise."
His father appeared in the doorway, his expression conflicted. "Son… we don't have much to give you. We never understood your fascination with learning the way you did. But we'll pray for your safety, every single day."
Isaac nodded. "That's all I need."
His mother cupped his face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy."
Isaac placed his hands over hers, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "I'll come back stronger, Mom. Strong enough that nothing in this world can stop me."
She pulled him into another hug, holding him as if she'd never let go. When she finally did, her sobs echoed softly in the quiet room.
Isaac turned to his father, who simply nodded. They exchanged no words, but the understanding between them was clear.
---
The Departure
Isaac and Nolan met back at the edge of the village, their supplies packed and their expressions determined. Nolan clutched his mother's notebook tightly, while Isaac carried little more than his satchel and a sense of purpose.
The two boys looked at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Then Nolan broke the silence. "Ready?"
Isaac glanced back at the village, his home, and the memories it held. He gave a small nod. "Yeah. Let's go."
Together, they turned and walked toward the docs, leaving the village and their childhoods behind. The journey ahead would be dangerous, but they were ready to face it.
…
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting the docks in a soft orange glow as Isaac and Nolan approached. The faint cries of seagulls mixed with the sound of waves lapping against the wooden piers. The boys moved carefully, staying hidden in the shadows as they surveyed their surroundings.
Docked at the far end of the pier was Elias' ship—a modest brigantine with dark sails and a menacing figurehead shaped like a snarling wolf. It was clear that the ship had seen its fair share of battles, but it was also the fastest and most seaworthy vessel in the small harbor.
Nolan crouched beside Isaac behind a stack of crates, his expression a mix of nervousness and excitement. "Are you sure about this? Stealing his ship?"
Isaac glanced at him, a small smirk playing on his lips. "He's dead. He doesn't need it anymore."
"That doesn't mean his crew won't come looking for it," Nolan muttered, clutching his mother's notebook tightly.
"They'll be looking for us anyway," Isaac pointed out. "We need a way out of here, and this is it. Besides…" He glanced at the ship again. "It's perfect. Fast, sturdy, and already outfitted for the sea. We're taking it."
Nolan sighed but nodded, trusting Isaac's plan. "Alright. Let's do this."
The boys moved quickly and quietly, their footsteps muffled by the creaking wood of the pier. They reached the ship without incident, climbing aboard and ducking below deck to avoid being seen by any stragglers.
The interior of the ship was surprisingly well-organized, with neatly stacked barrels of provisions and a weapons rack lined with cutlasses and pistols. Isaac scanned the room, taking mental notes of everything they might need.
"We'll have to work together to get this thing moving," Isaac whispered. "Can you handle the sails?"
Nolan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I'll figure it out."
Isaac gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Good. I'll take the helm."
The boys got to work, moving quickly to prepare the ship for departure. Nolan climbed the rigging, untying the ropes that held the sails in place, while Isaac familiarized himself with the controls. The brigantine creaked and groaned as the sails unfurled, catching the wind and giving the ship a ghostly life of its own.
As the ship began to drift away from the dock, a shout rang out from the shore.
"Hey! What are you doing on that ship?"
Isaac's head snapped up, his heart racing as he saw a group of dockworkers running toward the pier, waving their arms and shouting.
"Get it moving!" Isaac yelled to Nolan.
"I'm trying!" Nolan shouted back, frantically tying off the last rope.
The dockworkers were joined by a handful of Marines, their uniforms glinting in the fading light. One of them drew his pistol, aiming it at the boys.
Isaac gritted his teeth, grabbing a nearby barrel and flinging it overboard by reducing its mass. The barrel smashed into the pier, sending splinters flying and causing the dockworkers to scatter.
The sudden chaos gave the boys just enough time to get the ship moving. The brigantine caught the wind, its sails billowing as it picked up speed and began to glide out to sea.
"Isaac!" Nolan called from above. "We're clear!"
Isaac let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he steered the ship into open water. The cries of the dockworkers and Marines faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic crashing of waves against the hull.
Nolan climbed down from the rigging, his face flushed with adrenaline. "We actually did it," he said, his voice filled with disbelief.
Isaac nodded, his grin unwavering. "We did. This ship is ours now."
Nolan looked around at the deck, the open sea stretching out before them. "What should we call it?"
Isaac paused, considering the question. After a moment, he looked up at the sails, the black fabric casting long shadows over the deck. "Let's call it The Principia," he said finally.
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "The Principia?"
Isaac's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It sounds fancy. Like a fancy way of saying 'the principles.' It's fitting, don't you think?"
Nolan chuckled, shaking his head. "You're such a nerd."
Isaac smirked, steering the ship into the horizon. "Get used to it. We've got a long journey ahead."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, The Principia sailed into the unknown, carrying the two boys toward a future filled with danger, discovery, and adventure.
…
After a while of sailing and a little bit of sleep, the duo noticed an island in the distance.
The sun was high over the calm seas as Isaac and Nolan guided The Principia toward the island ahead. It was quaint, with a lively little village nestled against the coastline. At its edge, the blades of several windmills turned lazily in the breeze. The sight was a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind, and the cheerful, bustling atmosphere was almost contagious.
"Look at that," Nolan said with a grin, leaning over the side of the ship. "A proper village. This place looks like it hasn't seen trouble in years."
Isaac smiled faintly, steering the ship toward the small wooden dock. "Let's hope it stays that way. We could use a quiet stop."
As they approached the dock, a small crowd began to gather. Villagers stopped their work to eye the unfamiliar ship, their expressions wary. At the forefront was a man with a stern face, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He wore simple clothes, but his commanding presence made it clear he was someone of authority.
Isaac carefully tied the ship down, and he and Nolan stepped off. They were immediately met by the man's sharp glare.
"Who are you?" the man asked, his tone clipped and serious. "And what business do you have here?"
Isaac exchanged a quick glance with Nolan before replying. "We're travelers. Just kids, really. Looking for a place to rest and maybe stock up on supplies."
The man's brow furrowed as he scanned them from head to toe, his suspicion evident. "You're awfully young to be sailing on your own. Tell me the truth—are you pirates?"
Nolan raised his hands defensively, shaking his head. "Pirates? Us? No way! We're just trying to stay out of trouble, I promise."
The man squinted at them, his lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to believe them. But then his gaze softened just slightly as he noticed the state of their clothes—worn, patched, and clearly homemade.
"Kids…" he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. Finally, he exhaled sharply and stepped back. "Alright. I don't like pirates, and I won't tolerate troublemakers. If you're lying, you'll regret it. But if you're just passing through, I'll allow it."
Isaac nodded, keeping his voice calm and measured. "We understand, sir. Thank you."
The man straightened, his serious expression still firmly in place. "Name's Woop Slap. I'm the mayor of Foosha Village. If you need anything, you'll ask me first. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Nolan said quickly, nudging Isaac in the ribs to signal his agreement.
Woop Slap gave them one last scrutinizing look before turning to the small crowd. "Alright, everyone, back to work. Nothing to see here."
As the villagers dispersed, Isaac and Nolan took their first proper look around. The village was lively, with children running through the streets and merchants hawking their goods in a small market square. The scent of fresh bread wafted through the air, and the distant hum of windmills added a soothing rhythm to the scene.
Nolan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "That was... intense. I thought he was going to kick us out."
"He might have," Isaac said, his gaze following Woop Slap as the mayor walked away. "If he thought we were pirates, he wouldn't have hesitated."
"But we're not," Nolan said with a grin, nudging Isaac's shoulder. "So let's explore! This place looks amazing."
Isaac chuckled softly. "Fine. Just... let's try not to draw too much attention."
As they wandered through the village, the tension from their initial encounter faded. The villagers were polite but cautious, watching them with curious eyes as they passed. They stopped at a bakery to buy a loaf of bread, which they shared as they explored further.
Eventually, they found themselves near the base of one of the windmills, its blades creaking gently in the breeze. The fields surrounding it were lush and green, dotted with wildflowers that swayed in the wind.
"This place really is peaceful," Nolan said, flopping down on the grass.
Isaac sat beside him, gazing up at the spinning blades. "It is, But we can't stay too long. The marines will still be looking for us."
Nolan sighed, resting his head on his arms. "I know. But for now, let's just enjoy it. Who knows when we'll find another place like this?"
Isaac didn't reply, but his expression softened as he allowed himself to relax. For the first time in a long while, the weight on his shoulders seemed just a little bit lighter.