𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔒𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔫 || 𝑯𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒌𝒊

Chapter 1 ༄

  Niki's fate was tied.

In front of him was the end of his rope, the knot of his life.

It had already been several days since he had fallen into the pit of the world. On a desert island.

A prison with no way to escape.

Days that Niki tried to hold on to his life, taking countless risks just to eat, to drink or even to sleep. He was learning what the word "survive" truly means.

Fortunately, he had already experienced very difficult times when they were on the boat.

The sails were torn by the wind that was too violent, the captain shouting at them to raise the sails as quickly as possible. And they were soaked, with a knot in their stomach, as adrenaline pushed through their legs and arms to give them the strength to pull on these ropes.

Ropes that slipped, also covered in rain, streaming down the twists of wire. It was in groups of three or four that they began to pull as hard as possible, wanting at all costs to avoid major damage.

They had known the days of dry rationing, waiting for the slightest sign of land in sight. By the simple appearance of a gull, they knew they were saved.

The ocean was merciless, leaving them to muster the courage to cross it. It was a battlefield, where they were the entire crew against these waves.

But here, he was alone.

Completely lonely facing this horizon which offered him nothing more than the sight of an abandoned man.

Niki had always loved having miles of water stretching out in front of him. He had always loved seeing the waves meet the bay and sometimes wash up on the ship's planks.

This view was very different from a view of land.

It was martyrdom to watch.

This image which usually made him so proud, so brave, was now reduced to nothing more than a prison. A limitless cage by which he was surrounded.

Leaving him no escape, no means of escape.

Swimming wasn't an option. The water was too deep, the current too strong to execute such madness. Moreover, no land was in sight, there was only a vast ocean covered with the wind, waves and clouds.

And, he was alone.

Provisions were beginning to run dangerously short or even disappear. Crumbling under his hands, dry from this sand, from this salt.

Niki's throat was dehydrated. His skin withered, torn by the sun's rays hitting his wounds, leaving apparent scars.

Even his eyes no longer held enough tears to cry.

Two days he contemplated this terrifying picture that was the ocean, a blow throwing stones or sand at him, screaming and begging Poseidon's name.

Another time, Niki was smiling at it. He was laughing in the company of this salt water, which had always been a good friend.

A long-time friend to whom we give these kinds of nostalgic looks, remembering our hard times spent together.

A friend who was quickly and dangerously transforming into a cocoon for her future grave.

And he was alone.

So alone that his thirst for life was also starting to fail.

Niki saw his hope expire.

With each passing second, he accepted his fate a little more. He rediscovered the simplest things.

Listening to the gentle melody of the waves.