Skye was floating in a void, the inky darkness constantly penetrated by bright flashes of purple light. He had a sharp pain in the base of his skull, and every time the awful purple light appeared in his vision, his entire body convulsed painfully. Skye squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the horrible light; it didn’t help. His headache grew worse, the flashes were lasting longer, and all he could do was curl into a fetal position and try not to scream, as a dark, evil purple dug into his brain. Blurry shapes and figures were wavering in front of him, becoming more defined with each passing second. Skye desperately focused on them, trying to think about something, anything but the pain, until he was living in the vision entirely. He was in a polished stone hallway, chasing…no, running from something. Another man was running with him to his left, craning his neck to look behind him as he ran. Suddenly, Skye felt his legs give way under him as he tripped over a loose stone on the ground. A stupid mistake, he should have seen that. The other man turned towards Skye, only for a huge arrow to shoot straight through his stomach. He cried out in rage and pain, and unleashed a stream of fire, encompassing the hall in front of him. A different man ran around a corner ahead of them, he was Mor…Morden. He was the one who came to them with the plan.
“There’s no time, we have to go through the wall!” He shouted. The other man…Tucker, nodded, coughed out a worrying amount of blood, and blasted the wall at full-force. With an explosion of smoke and dust, the wall gave out, and Skye watched as the other two climbed through the wreckage.
“Skye! We have to go back for him!” Tucker shouted weakly.
“There’s no time. We have to go now,” Morden said heavily, just out of sight. “I’m sorry, Skye…” And with that, Skye was alone. Eyes stinging from the smoke, dazed and confused, he crawled his way towards the hole in the wall, only to be crushed to the ground by the foot of a menacing cloaked figure.
“Now, where do you think you’re going?” The figure’s hands started glowing a bright purple, illuminating the sneer on their hooded face. Skye’s vision started to blur, space distorting in front of his eyes, and he succumbed to unconsciousness once more.
Skye suddenly woke up, facedown on the ground. He groggily lifted his head, spitting out sand, and surveyed the area. He was on a small beach, being peppered by large raindrops below an overcast cloud. Lighting played across the sky, and he winced, head still spinning from his vision. All he remembered was his name, the tornado, and…the escape. Of course.
“Morden?” He called out weakly. “Tucker? Are you there?” A familiar face appeared over the edge of a nearby hill.
“Skye! Thank the gods you’re alright,” Morden said, motioning for Skye to come near.
“I found you drifting in the sea…I don’t want to know what happened, what matters is that you’re safe. Tucker…” He motioned towards a freshly dug grave. “He didn’t make it.” Skye looked down.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I remember much of anything…who was he to me?” Morden looked away, taking a deep breath.
“…A friend. Look, I wish I could help more, but you have to get away from this island. We have a spare boat, take that to the nearest town. It’s honestly a blessing, if you can’t remember anything. Better not to live with the memories of that awful place. I apologise for pushing you away so early, I just…I need to be alone.” After saying their goodbyes, he took a couple of steps towards a nearby ledge, sitting away from Skye, who was now starting to row away.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Morden to himself, staring down at his hands, which held a small blinking device. “There…there was no other way.” He stood up, let the device fall from his hand onto the ground, and walked away.
