The wind roared around them, carrying with it fragments of sand and whispers of the unknown. Jason's knuckles whitened as he gripped the compass, its needle trembling as if unsure of its purpose. Finn stood a few paces ahead, his lantern flickering defiantly against the encroaching storm.
"Keep moving, mate!" Finn shouted over the cacophony, his voice tinged with urgency.
Jason forced his feet to move, each step sinking into the shifting sands. The fortress loomed closer now, its dark spires cutting jaggedly into the churning sky. The oppressive weight of its presence bore down on him, but it wasn't fear that filled his chest. It was determination—raw, unyielding, and unfamiliar.
"Why does it feel like the storm is alive?" Jason asked, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
"Because it is," Finn replied without turning. "It feeds on doubt, on hesitation. The more you falter, the stronger it gets. You've got to keep going, no matter what it throws at you."
Jason glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting the shifting sands to rise up and consume him. Instead, he saw shadows—dozens of them—slithering just beyond the periphery of his vision. He didn't need to look closer to know what they were.
Memories. Regrets. The pieces of himself he'd tried to bury long ago.
The first shadow broke away from the others, taking shape in the form of a woman—a face he hadn't seen in years but one he could never forget. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, her hand outstretched as if pleading with him.
"Jason," she whispered, her voice cutting through the storm like a blade. "Why did you leave me behind?"
Jason froze, his breath hitching. "You're not real."
"I was," she said, her figure shimmering as though caught between two worlds. "You could have saved me, but you chose to run. You always run."
The accusation struck deep, but Jason clenched his jaw, forcing himself to move. "I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," the shadow hissed, her sorrow morphing into rage. "You just never make the right one."
The ground beneath Jason's feet trembled as the shadow lunged at him, her outstretched hand transforming into talons that clawed at the air. He stumbled backward, his heart pounding, but Finn's voice cut through the storm.
"Don't stop!" Finn yelled, his lantern's golden light flaring brightly. "They're not here to talk—they're here to drag you down!"
Jason gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to carry him forward. The shadow screeched in frustration as Finn's light drove it back into the swirling darkness. But the others were closing in, their whispers growing louder, their forms more distinct.
A shadow resembling his father emerged next, his stern face twisted with disappointment. "You were always a failure, Jason. Always taking the easy way out."
Another shadow joined, the voice of an old friend echoing, "You betrayed me, Jason. You left me to die."
Their words clawed at Jason's mind, each accusation tearing at the fragile barriers he'd built around his memories. The compass in his hand grew hot, its needle spinning wildly again, as though it too was overwhelmed by the storm.
"Finn!" Jason called out, his voice laced with panic. "How do I stop them?"
Finn turned, his expression unusually serious. "You don't stop them. You face them."
Jason faltered, his mind racing. Face them? How could he confront these ghosts when every word they spoke felt like a knife to his soul?
Before he could decide, another shadow emerged—a younger version of himself, eyes wide with fear and guilt. The boy carried a small, broken object in his hands, something Jason recognized immediately. It was the music box he had smashed in a fit of anger years ago, a gift from someone he had loved deeply.
"You always destroy what you care about," the younger Jason said, his voice trembling but accusatory. "You're the reason we're here. You're the reason everything falls apart."
Jason's chest tightened, the weight of the storm pressing down on him. Every part of him wanted to scream, to run, to deny the accusations, but Finn's voice rang in his ears.
"Face them."
Taking a shaky breath, Jason stopped running. He turned to the shadows, his hands trembling but steadying as he clenched the compass. The boy stepped closer, holding the broken music box out to him.
"I'm sorry," Jason whispered, his voice cracking. "I made mistakes. I've hurt people. But I can't let those mistakes define me anymore."
The younger Jason hesitated, his form flickering. The music box in his hands began to glow faintly, the broken edges mending themselves. One by one, the other shadows stopped advancing, their whispers softening into murmurs, then fading entirely.
The storm around them grew quieter, the oppressive darkness giving way to faint streaks of light. Finn lowered his lantern, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Well, I'll be," Finn said, his tone almost impressed. "You might just make it after all."
Jason exhaled, his legs weak as the weight of his past began to lift. The compass in his hand steadied, its needle pointing firmly toward the fortress.
"What now?" Jason asked, his voice hoarse but resolute.
Finn gestured toward the spires ahead. "Now you walk into the lion's den, mate. But this time, you're ready."
Jason nodded, his grip on the compass firm. For the first time, he felt a flicker of hope. The storm wasn't over, but he had weathered the worst of it. And with each step forward, he knew he was closer to the truth—whatever it might cost him.