Siren

The shadow

The oracle's parting words echoed in Jordan's mind as the ship rocked in the eerie calm of the Silent Depths. Her final warning, vague yet foreboding, had left him more unsettled than he cared to admit. He had seen Lena and their son, but it wasn't enough. There was a threat-dark, faceless-and it was closing in. He had to act fast.

The crew was tense, watching their captain as he stood at the helm, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Garrett approached cautiously.

"Captain," he said quietly, "what now? Do we chase this vision? Or turn back while we still can?"

Jordan didn't respond immediately. His thoughts were a storm, each decision weighing heavier than the last. But then, with a deep breath, he turned to face his crew.

"We set sail for the island," he said, his voice hard as iron. "I saw where they are. There's a danger coming for them, and I won't let it reach them before I do."

The crew exchanged uncertain glances. Garrett, always the voice of reason, stepped closer. "Captain, we don't know what we're sailing into. This could be-"

"I know what I'm sailing into," Jordan cut him off, his eyes blazing with determination. "I know there's danger ahead, but I also know that my family is out there, and I won't stand by and let them be taken. You can stay here if you're afraid. But I'm going."

Garrett opened his mouth to protest but then closed it. He'd seen Jordan like this before-unyielding, resolute. There was no stopping him now. With a nod, Garrett signaled the crew to follow the new course.

The wind picked up as they left the Silent Depths, the ship slicing through the water with renewed urgency. For hours, they sailed in silence, the men keeping their heads down as they worked. There was a sense of foreboding hanging over the ship, an unspoken fear that whatever waited for them on the island would be far worse than the oracle's cryptic warnings.

As dusk fell, the island finally came into view-rugged cliffs rising sharply from the sea, crowned with dense, wind-swept trees. The sky above was a bruised purple, with clouds swirling in ominous patterns. A storm was brewing.

Jordan's heart pounded in his chest as they neared the shore. He could feel it-Lena was close. His son was close.

The ship anchored just off the rocky coast, and Jordan wasted no time lowering a small boat into the water. Garrett and a few others volunteered to go with him, but Jordan shook his head.

"I'm going alone," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I need to do this myself."

Garrett hesitated but eventually stepped back, his eyes full of concern. "Be careful, Captain."

Jordan gave him a curt nod and rowed toward the shore, the boat cutting through the choppy waves. The storm clouds overhead thickened, casting long shadows across the island as he pulled the boat onto the beach and leapt out.

The wind howled around him as he made his way up the rocky path, his heart racing with anticipation. Every step felt like a battle between hope and fear-hope that he would find them in time, fear that he was too late.

The path led him deeper into the island, through dense undergrowth and over jagged rocks. It wasn't long before he spotted the small clearing ahead-the place from his vision. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw them.

Lena stood at the edge of the clearing, her back to him, staring out at the sea. And beside her, playing in the grass, was a boy-a boy who looked exactly like Jordan had imagined. Dark hair, wild like his mother's, but with a certain calm in his movements, something quieter, more thoughtful.

Jordan's breath caught in his throat. His son.

He stepped forward, his feet crunching on the gravel beneath him. Lena turned at the sound, her eyes widening in shock as they locked on him.

"Jordan," she whispered, disbelief lacing her voice. "How did you...?"

But her question was cut off by the sudden crack of thunder overhead. The sky darkened even more, and the air seemed to thrum with an unnatural energy. Jordan's gaze snapped to the horizon.

A figure was approaching, just as the oracle had shown him. A tall, imposing man, cloaked in shadow, making his way down the hill toward them.

Lena grabbed their son, pulling him close, her face pale. "Jordan," she said, her voice tight with fear. "We need to go. Now."

But Jordan stood his ground, his eyes fixed on the approaching figure. He knew instinctively who it was-the threat the oracle had warned him about.

"I'm not leaving," he said, his voice low and steady. "I came to protect you. Both of you."

Lena's eyes were wild with panic. "You don't understand. He's-"

"I don't care who he is," Jordan interrupted, stepping in front of her and their son, shielding them from the approaching figure. "I won't let him take you."

The man finally came into view, his face still obscured by the shadows, but his presence was unmistakably sinister. He stopped a few paces away from them, his voice a deep rumble as he spoke.

"You shouldn't have come here, Blackwell," the man said, his voice thick with malice. "This isn't your place."

Jordan's hand instinctively went to the sword at his side. "It is now," he growled. "And you're not taking them."

The man's laughter was cold, devoid of any warmth. "You think you can stop me? You have no idea what you're up against."

But Jordan didn't waver. He had faced impossible odds before. And now, with Lena and their son behind him, he would face them again.

"I've come too far to back down now," Jordan said, drawing his sword with a sharp hiss of steel. "You want them? You'll have to go through me."

The storm overhead intensified, lightning flashing across the sky as the man's shadowy form seemed to swell, growing larger, darker, more menacing.

Jordan tightened his grip on his sword, his muscles coiled and ready. He had no idea who-or what-this man was. But he would fight. For Lena. For their son.

For the family he was finally ready to claim.