Need for Madness

In an old ship, rickety, its hull bearing scars and marks innumerable from a thousand journeys across the old sea; below, amidst the barrels of whale oil, three bodies huddled together, seeking warmth in the stifling darkness-a man, his wife, and their young daughter.

Eamon pressed a finger to his lips, his sharp gaze peering into the opening above. Muffled sounds echoed across the planks, accompanied by the steady thud of boots.

Mara held her daughter, Lyra, close to her chest, rocking her gently as the little girl whimpered into her shoulder. "Shhh, Lyra," Mara whispered, her voice trembling but soft. "It's okay. We're safe here."

"But it's too dark," Lyra whispered, her small hands gripping Mara's jacket. "I don't like it."

Eamon took a step closer, running his hand through Lyra's curls. "I know it's scary, my darling " he whispered. "But we're here with you. We're playing a quiet game now, remember? Stay still and calm, and we'll win."

Mara pressed her lips to Lyra's forehead, her eyes sparkling as she whispered, "We'll be okay, my love. I promise." Yet the shake in her voice betrayed her fear.

The shoes stopped abruptly above them. There was silence, save for the creaking and groaning of the ship, and the faint slapping of the waves.

"They're coming," Eamon whispered tightly. "If they find us-

"They won't," Mara cut in, though her trembling hands told another story as she clutched Lyra close. "We just have to stay still."

The family wasn't just traveling, they were fleeing. Desperation had driven them to this journey, hidden away by a sailor willing to risk the law to smuggle them across the waters in search of a better life.

The hatch groaned as it swung open, and the dim glow of lanterns poured into the cramped hold. Shadows stretched and danced across the barrels and crates, their shapes twisting as two men dropped down. Their laughter rang out—sharp, careless—shattering the fragile quiet.

"I thought I heard something down here," one of the sailors growled, nudging a crate with his boot. His gaze swept the room until it fell on Mara's pale face, barely visible in the gloom.

"Well, well," one of the intruders said, his grin wolfish and cruel. "What have we here?"

Sailors are no longer in control; pirates have overtaken it.

Eamon rose at once, stepping between the men and his family. His shoulders squared, and though fear gripped him, his voice was firm. "We mean no harm. Please just let them go."

One pirate stepped forward, his scarred face twisting into a mocking sneer. "That's not how it works, friend. Passage costs money." His voice dripped with malice.

Lyra's cries pierced the air, and Mara's tears spilled as she whispered desperate reassurances.

The couple knew that their hopes had evaporated and it was better to become slaves without losing their dignity.

The wolfish pirate's eyes glinted as they roved over Mara and Lyra. "We'll take the girl and her mother as payment " he declared.

"No!" Eamon lunged forward, only to be struck down by a heavy blow from the second pirate.

Before Mara could scream, rough hands dragged her and Lyra away. Eamon struggled to his feet, but the wolfish pirate drew a knife, the blade glinting in the lantern light.

"You are no use to us while you are alive," the pirate sneered. With a sharp whistle, he signaled his men. Eamon was dragged onto the deck, tied to a weight, and thrown into the sea.

They didn't sense any danger from him, they just wanted to torture him and his family.

This whole incident didn't take more than 5 minutes. The family's world was turned upside down.

The water swallowed him whole, dragging him into its depths. Above, the ship's lantern light wavered and shrank, then vanished, leaving only darkness. Cold pressed in from all sides, gnawing at his flesh and sapping the breath from his lungs.

Eamon thrashed, but the sea held him fast, its weight suffocating. His chest burned, and his vision dimmed. Yet as his limbs grew heavy and the last bubbles of air escaped his lips, his fingers grazed something smooth beneath the silt.

Bone.

A skull.

Its empty sockets glowed with a faint, unearthly light, and a voice—low and hollow, like the groan of the deep echoed in his mind.

" Do you want revenge? "

The words sliced through his fading consciousness, pulling him back from the edge.

" Yes," Eamon thought, the plea bursting from what little remained of his strength.

" Your life will not be your own " the voice intoned. " Your body, a vessel. Your soul, bound. Do you accept? "

Visions of Mara and Lyra flashed before him their cries, their terror. The image of Mara's tear-streaked face as the pirates dragged her away seared into his mind. Desperation and fury flared within him, banishing doubt.

" I accept. "

The water stirred, swirling violently around him as the voice erupted in laughter—a sound that rattled through his bones and filled the void of his failing heart.

Pain lanced through his chest, searing and absolute. It was as though the sea itself pierced him.

His pulse faltered. Then stopped.

But the darkness did not take him.

Eamon's eyes snapped open.

The water no longer burned it obeyed. The cold no longer stung it strengthened. His limbs no longer felt frail they pulsed with power, unnatural and vast.

He rose from the depths, the skull clutched tightly in his grip, its faint glow reflecting in the black void of his transformed eyes.

He was no longer Eamon the man.

He was something else.

Something far more dangerous.

And when he enters his mind, he can hear only one thing.

' This man has magic after death!!!!! I won the lottery. ' 

 ' But first ' he looked at his leg tied to an iron ball. ' I must find a way '.

----------------- 

In New Atlantis

Professor Varin and Ithri strolled along with measured steps, the soft sound of their footsteps against the silent streets. The walk had been Professor Varin's idea a way to clear their heads in the night air. 

As they turned the corner, the towering figure of the Thirteen Church came into view.

But they did not stop at the door. They took an alley and walked parallel to the church until they rounded it. Now they are looking at the church from behind.

 Professor Varin pulled out a metal flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a deep, deliberate drink.

The backyard door was half closed.

"This is the place "he murmured.

He pushes the door open and enters, showing signs of drunkenness, although he takes a sip.

He was acting.

The Professor and Ithri entered without an invitation.