The sun was setting in the distance; a yellow and orange shade filled the sky. A big hill, which lay against a small lake, overlooked a small village. Two silhouettes were sitting on the lakeside, the hill behind them and the calm waters in front of them. The only thing that disturbed the water was the bait being cast into it.

  “Waves, waves are the enemy of stagnation, for when one breaks at the hands of the unmovable shore, it always takes bits and pieces with it,” a man in his fifties said, focused on his fishing rod.

  “Those pieces are then being carried away, some longer than others, but eventually they will reach a place to rest. More time will fly by, and more and more of those pieces will take their slumber, and at a certain point new lands are created, while the old ones have diminished or disappeared entirely.”

  A young boy was sitting next to the older man, his blond hair swaying gently with the grass surrounding them. He had tried to focus his attention on his fishing rod, but all the wonderful stimuli around him were making it very difficult. The insects buzzing, the conversation with his dad, the sound of the frogs hiding between the cattails, and most imposingly, the smell of the sea. They were facing landwards, but the hill behind them was hiding the sea, their village being hugged by both natural formations.

  “Hey, why did you do that?” the young boy asked after being nudged by his father.

  “You weren't listening to your old man.”

  “I did, Dad, but you know I don't like these talks.”

  “Just listen to me, my little boy, this is about you,” the older man said. After coughing, he continued what he was talking about.

  “Every bit of water used to be part of a wave at some point in time; the lake in front of us is the same. For the time being it's stuck like this, but it will join the big sea and take its old role back. It's resting now, but it will be part of a bigger purpose in the future.”

  Is Dad going to stop talking soon? I want to play with the others.

  “That greater purpose is the conflict between the ever-moving waves and the unmovable lands.”

  The older man turned his head, his brown eyes, which were hiding an emotion his son could not yet understand, looked at the blond boy.

  “I think that you are a wave, Ori, but you are stuck in a lake for now.”

  Orion looked surprised. “But I am not water.”

  “Hahahahaha, that's not what I meant. People can be waves, lands too. I think you are someone who wants to change the world for the better. Word got around that you helped Old Lady Nancy when no one bothered to do anything yesterday, and that you tried to include that recluse apprentice into that game you and your friends made last week. Those are all things a wave would do.”

  Orion still looked a bit confused. “Are you also a wave, Dad?”

  A smile formed on his father's face.

  “No, your dad is quite the opposite. I have been doing the same things as your grandpa did, and his father before him, always doing what everyone wanted me to do. I am land for sure.”

  “But Dad, you are not a bad guy.”

  “Thanks, Ori, but waves and lands are neither bad nor good. It's good that they both exist. Without waves, you get stagnation; nothing changes, nothing happens. It's like there is nothing at all.”

  “What happens when there are no lands?” Orion asked, interrupting his father.

  “Chaos.”

  Suddenly, the scent of the salty sea breeze was taken over by a darker and heavier smell—a smell he vaguely recognized. Orion turned around to look where it was coming from, and what he saw sent shivers down his spine. A black smoke was flying over the hill; with it came a sickening warm breeze that could mean only one thing.

  “Dad, there is a fire in the village.”

  But there was no response. His father was back to focusing on his fishing rod.

  Orion wanted to shake his father back to his senses, but his muscles stopped him from moving an inch after hearing a distant noise. It started almost inaudible, but it became louder and louder with every second, until Orion figured out what it was.

  “SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP US, LET US GO PLEASE!”

  The noise was the screams and pleads of the townsfolk.

  Orion, who was mortified to his core, started to regain his memories of what was happening. He recalled seeing knights in armor enter his village, setting fire to all the houses, the death of many elders who couldn't leave their homes, the beheadings of the men and children who tried to flee, the women who were being captured while some were barely dressed, and the boat they entered with eleven people who managed to escape the carnage.

  Sweat dripped from the young boy's face, panic now embracing his whole body.

  The sun that was barely in the sky a few minutes ago was now completely hidden behind the horizon, all while the young body of Orion was remembering everything that had happened to him.

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  “I think our time is up, Ori. You should go play with the others now. Oh, and remember one thing: I am very proud of you,” his father said while walking behind him.

  “Go be that wave now.”

  Orion tried to move but could not, and he was too late to respond to what his dad said.

  “DAD!”

  SPLASH.

  The lake he was looking down on a minute ago was now fully embracing him. The shock of everything that just happened made him gasp for air, but only water filled his lungs.

  I need to reach the surface, Orion thought, still unable to move his body.

  Everything became darker and darker. The young boy did not know if it was because of him reaching deeper and deeper depths of the lake or the lack of oxygen to his brain, but he was sure that it wasn't a good sign.

  A few seconds later, it was totally dark, like there was nothing surrounding him. He wasn't even sure that he himself still existed.

  So this is death, huh? It's a bit boring.

  No sounds, no smell, no taste, no warmth, no cold, only darkness.

  Deep, hollow darkness.

  How long have I been here? Orion thought to himself.

  Time was flowing, or it wasn't. It was hard to tell. It felt like an eternity, but also like a second.

  There was nothing to do, so Orion mostly slept or tried to think of fond memories. But eventually, even that stopped entertaining him.

  Is this going to continue forever? I would have preferred being erased completely over this.

  Orion wanted to sleep again, but in the back of his mind, or whatever he had right now, he remembered his father's words.

  I want to be a wave again.

  Nothing changed at first, but then a white dot appeared. Slowly but surely, it grew until it filled half of the darkness he was residing in.

  What is that? Orion thought. He felt a force slowly pulling him towards the light.

  In that light, he saw a silhouette the closer it got. First, it looked like a ball, but then he realized it was a girl curled up, holding her legs.

  The light became brighter and brighter until Orion couldn't see anything anymore.

  COUGH COUGH.

  Orion sat up, coughing salty seawater out of his lungs. His eyes were still adjusting to the sun that was shining on him.

  “Am I alive?”

  A warm breeze was softly touching his skin. The sound of waves was dancing behind him. The sun, together with the warm white sand he was sitting on, was warming his cold body, until a broad shadow interrupted the heavenly rays of light.

  Orion looked up and noticed a dark silhouette in front of him. It towered over the young man like a mountain over a mouse. This was mostly because of Orion lying down; if he were standing, there wouldn't have been too much of a difference, but Orion still felt like he could not compare to the figure in front of him.

  “Who, cough, who are you?”

  “Zylphrin grakkalorst viqqu'thunf jeckyl morthag pronax wumph.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Zylphrin grakkalorst viqqu'thunf jeckyl morthag pronax wumph Wu.”

  With every spoken word, an uncomfortable pressure started to form around Orion.

  “I don't understand what you are saying,” Orion asked in bewilderment. His sight was now completely returned, so he tried to see what the person in front of him looked like.

  But his attempts were to no avail. The hood hid the face of the unknown figure perfectly, while their whole body was underneath a robe.

  One hand was now slowly being put further backward; the other soon followed, all for one reason.

  I should get away as soon as possible, Orion thought while continuing his slow escape.

  The robed figure kept watching, not moving one step closer. The distance between the two was growing by the second.

  But it did not feel like it.

  I, I, I should run.

  Orion pushed his upper body off the ground with a small effort, both his feet fully on the ground, now completely ready to dash towards the horizon. A hastened, deep breath was taken before the first step, filling his lungs with the air he most certainly needed right now.

  The first step was made, but the second never came.

  “HALT!”

  Orion felt the pressure he felt before rising to an almost unbearable level. His body became stiff, so stiff that he could not move a muscle. Now standing there, looking like a statue that someone forgot on the beach.

  Huh, what's happening? Why can't I move? Orion thought, while sweat kept dripping from his forehead.

  The person who just shouted "halt" was now steadily closing the distance Orion just created, one foot in front of the other, but with each step something changed. The pacing looked less... lively than before.

  Wasn't he bigger before? the young man noticed while staring at the hooded figure.

  The hooded figure got closer and closer, until he was right in front of the stagnant Orion.

  He definitely looks smaller.

  Suddenly a hand appeared—a pale white one with long nails that could easily poke an eye out—aimed towards the young man.

  Orion was still bewildered by all the things that were happening around him, in complete distrust of the person in front of him, and slowly but surely worried—worried about someone else.

  Layla? he thought, with sweat dripping from his forehead. Images of his fellow castaway lying dead on the white sand, which was turning red by her flowing blood, were filling his head.

  “F/ou%nd G&irl, Br*i$ng you T0o He!r,” the hooded figure said in a raspy voice that carried the pressure created by the weight of time.

  The pressure on Orion's chest grew again with these words, but he did not care to notice it, nor did he care about how the figure was able to speak his language. His focus was now on finding his friend.

  “Please bring me to her,” he said while grabbing the hand in front of him for a firm handshake.

  The hand was really cold, but that was not the weirdest thing. The upper layer of the skin was not soft at all, like it was not skin at all.

  What is this? Are these scales?

  Orion opened his mouth to ask about the person's weird condition, but the hooded figure moved before any word could be formed.

  I might want to ask him after finding Layla. He might take offense to me asking.

  So the two of them started walking in the direction of a big heap of driftwood, barrels, and everything else that used to belong to the Endurance.