"LAYLA, LOOK! LOOK!"

  A young man stood at the edge of the upper deck of an old, battle-damaged ship. Its hull was riddled with holes, arrows, and charred wood. His right arm, now nothing more than skin and bone, pointed past the bow—a bow that was tearing through wave after wave, each one bigger than the last. The size of those waves did not matter as much as the sound; every hit created a chilling, traumatizing creak that foretold only one future.

  A future in which the ship's crew was going to meet a watery grave.

  The Endurance used to have two masts holding an equal spread of sails, but now it had only one. It held onto a fabric riddled with holes and burn marks. The wind was still being caught—not efficiently, but well enough to keep the Endurance moving forward. The fast sea breeze wasn't the only thing being caught, though; the tattered sail created a patch of shadow, blocking the harsh sunlight. In it lay a sickly, thin girl, her messy black hair spread all around her head.

  It was unfortunate for the survivors that the skeleton of this once-fierce vessel wasn't the worst part. Hunger—gnawing hunger—and dehydration were causing them the most dread. Their food supply ran thin, and the barrels of drinking water were faring no better.

  The twelve who started this journey at sea had contemplated everything that could happen beforehand. The three situations most likely to occur were simple: drowning, thirst, or hunger. Any of these could kill them on this wicked voyage. But staying in their hometown would have been a death sentence in itself. Their only hope was the slim chance of finding new lands at sea, so they took off.

  Why did God forsake us? Why did God let those heathens pillage our lands? Why did God not strike them for calling another god their master? Why, why, why?

  Layla, who was slowly rolling into a fetal position, thought about all the bad that had happened before and was terrorizing them now. Every thought was covered with "why," and no good answer followed. Every question fueled a maddened rage inside her that would explode soon enough. After a few minutes, that flame reached its limit. It wasn't just anger, but fear and delusion that had taken root in her head and heart.

  "Why are we still alive? Why didn't we just die at home?" she yelled, her right arm slowly rising until her fist pointed toward the sky—or at whatever was behind it.

  "We died when we left. This is all a test from God, right? We wouldn't be suffering like this for nothing, right? Hahaha, of course not! This is all according to the Almighty's plan."

  Orion, who was still pointing into the far distance, finally noticed the crazed laughter hinting at the immense misery of his companion. He looked back and saw her twitching motions.

  CREAK.

  Layla's laughter became louder and louder. The madness that had taken over was now almost contagious. Orion was feeling it right now. His mentality had been an almost unbeatable opponent ever since he was a kid. Every citizen of Laurel would agree—or would have agreed, since most of them had died a gruesome death. The boy used to always sing and frolic around the village, from helping the old folk to annoying the studious girl who was now losing her mind. He was a never-fading ray of sunshine during the dark times. Even when the elders proposed to flee their lands, he stayed positive and eased everyone's worries. His parents used to joke about his overbearing positivity; they loved to tell everyone that he always had a smile on his face, that crying was an impossibility for him.

  But that was a lie. Orion's whining had cost his parents a lot of sleep when he was a baby. And he had cried recently, too, all while witnessing the horrendous death of his family.

  "WE WILL SURVIVE THIS! HAHAHA! IT'S ALL ACCORDING TO THE GREAT PLAN!" his friend yelled, hitting the wood she was lying on.

  CREAK.

  Orion stepped closer to the girl he had known his whole life. She normally wasn't this vocal; she was quite the opposite, actually. The old folk used to call her a "recluse apprentice." The young boy, of course, knew that it was all in good fun—there was no recluse in Laurel, and she most certainly wouldn't want to be an apprentice to such a person. Orion knew that Layla was just a bit awkward with her peers. Her passion was studying; she liked history, the gods, politics—whatever topic a book had, she would probably like it. Most kids their age hated studying and just wanted to work, play, and mess around, so she didn't have friends. Orion had taken it upon himself to be her friend, though it hadn't really worked out yet.

  BANG, BANG.

  Layla's laughter stopped immediately. Her head snapped off the ground, turning toward the cabin.

  Orion shuddered. His breathing quickened and his empty stomach tightened, trying to throw up everything he didn't have. His instincts were screaming at him to look at the cabin door, which they had barricaded completely shut.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

  They weren't the only ones on the ship.

  Twelve villagers had managed to get on the Endurance before it took off: both Layla’s and Orion’s parents, Layla's older sister, Jack and Margaret Willow with their son Adam, Jeffery Winkens, and the last one, Conner Greenfield.

  BANG, BANG, BANG.

  Tears started falling down Layla's face. An image she had tried to suppress resurfaced—a scene that had taken a great toll on what was now her collapsing sanity.

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  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

  The loud banging meant only one thing: they still weren't the only ones alive.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

  Why aren't they dead? Why, why, why, WHY?

  The Orion of a year ago would have been horrified by the idea of wishing death upon anyone. The only person he didn't wish dead right now was losing her mind next to him. He would have wished safety for his and her families, but they were already gone, taken by the hands that were now beating against the door.

  BANG, BANG.

  The constant and horrid banging finally started to calm down. Both Orion and Layla stared at the door, fear still shining through the darkness in their pupils. They had survived the slaughter and entrapped the monsters that haunted their dreams, but escaping another assault would be impossible. Luckily, their blockade held firm.

  The sound of the waves, which had been a reminder of unavoidable doom a moment ago, now slowly soothed their minds. The fears they held drifted away toward the horizon, far, far away. A salty sea breeze gently caressed their noses, though another scent was slowly becoming more prevalent.

  Orion, who had been staring at Layla for a few minutes after the banging stopped, finally came back to his senses. He took a few steps forward, creaking noises following every small movement.

  CREAK, CREAK, CREAK.

  The young girl kept staring at the door. Her mind was still recovering from the shock. Mentally, she wasn't there, but that changed with every little creak. Her fall into madness was being overpowered by fear, but now the madness had enough space to continue destroying her sanity—until a sharp pain exploded on her right cheek.

  "OUUUUUCH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" she shrieked, clutching the painful side of her face.

  "Why, you ask? YOU WERE LOSING IT! YOU WERE LOSING YOUR GODDAMN MIND, THAT'S WHY!" Orion yelled. He had no energy left to hold back his punches, nor did he want to hide his concerns.

  Layla looked at her left hand, realizing what had happened, a tear now falling into her palm. "Why didn't you just shake me?" More tears spilled down her face.

  The young man who had struck the lady in front of him was now regretting his actions to no limit. Pent-up stress, grief, and anger took their toll, and the only payment they asked for was tears.

  Two young adults fell to their knees, their noses running and eyes watering. There was no one to console them, no one to protect them, no one to save them.

  Seconds became minutes, and minutes felt like hours.

  Layla looked up and realized that she had dozed off. She felt a piercing pain through her head; she had lost quite a lot of water by crying and was now suffering the consequences. Next to her was Orion. His snoring was quiet but noticeable, and his face showed no signs of discomfort. It looked like he was having a pleasant dream.

  Oh no, you are not going to enjoy a good rest after what you have done, she thought, raising her hand.

  SLAAAAAAAAP.

  "HUH? What's going on?" he sputtered, waking in a daze.

  "You wanted to show me something, right? Well, what was it?"

  Orion looked at the girl, confused, his brain trying to figure out what she meant—until he realized what he had seen before the chaos. Sweat started dripping off his face, and he hurriedly stood up. He wanted to run back toward the bow, but he stayed exactly where he was. His right arm slowly rose while his finger pointed forward.

  "I saw that," he said, a tremble in his voice.

  Layla turned around and realized what had shocked the young man.

  A giant wall of mist stood right in front of them. The Endurance was entering the fog. It didn't take long for the mist to swallow the ship whole.

  "We can collect water from this, right?" Layla said, a smile finally beating her permanent frown.

  "Get every towel, rag, or piece of cloth..."

  Before he could finish his sentence, a massive wave hit the Endurance, making them both stumble.

  Another wave hit, and another, and another. They kept coming.

  Orion looked around wildly. The ship was tilting from one side to the other without a break.

  "IT'S NOT STOPPING! HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!" he screamed, lunging for the one remaining mast.

  Layla crawled to the mast, holding it with both arms and pushing her body against the creaking wood pillar. The wall of mist they had just seen was now fully embracing their malnourished bodies. Its cold grasp made the young lady shudder, but there was something else causing a feeling of discomfort.

  Something was off. It looked and acted like a normal mist cloud, but it felt completely different. It felt foreign—like it wasn't of this world.

  CRACK. SNAP.

  "LOOK OUT!" Layla screamed at Orion, who quickly ducked his head.

  The mast they had been holding onto had finally succumbed to its critical state. The dent in the middle of the tall pillar cracked under the pressure, sending the upper half crashing down toward the front of the Endurance.

  Orion moved just in time before the heavy log slammed onto the deck. A loud boom followed.

  Dust, splinters, and planks flew into the sky. A massive hole was torn into the middle of the ship; the upper part of what used to be a mast was now lying comfortably in the ship's quarters below.

  Orion and Layla watched in horror. The only thing they could do was hold on tight, hoping that something—anything—was coming to save them. Their breath quickened. They were not safe now. Even if the storm passed, the big hole shrouded in darkness was a death sentence. Their safe haven on the deck was now open to the murderers down below.

  The waves kept coming, almost like the gods were trying to test how accurate the name Endurance really was.

  Orion, nauseous from the violent movement, looked Layla right in the eyes. He had held onto hope the longest, but now he had reached his limit. The young girl looked back and saw it in his eyes: he had had enough.

  Holding onto the broken stump of the mast became difficult; it took every ounce of energy just to stay attached to it. Their breathing became louder and louder, until even that became a struggle.

  What is happening? They both thought.

  The mist was slowly changing color—from a white-grey to yellow, then red, green, and blue, until it became darker and darker around the Endurance.

  What is happening? Layla wanted to scream, but the lack of air in her lungs stopped her.

  The mist became darker still, swallowing everything around them until nothing could be seen. It was as if existence itself was an illusion.

  As if nothing had ever existed in the first place.