𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

shadows of the past

The sun hung low over the jagged coastline of the island, casting long shadows through the dense trees and broken ruins scattered near the shore. The group moved cautiously.

Vincent leading, followed by Minho, Thomas, Hugo, and Nico at the rear, keeping his eyes sharp for any sign of trouble.

They were on a routine supply mission, gathering scarce resources for the Right Arm and the Gladers.

Rumours had surfaced about a small pirate outpost operating near the island, but Vincent assured them the place was abandoned. 

Still, better to be prepared.

Nico's heart thumped unevenly beneath his ribs, an uneasy feeling twisting in his gut as the dense forest seemed to close in around them.

He tried to steady his breath, reminding himself: This was now. He was no longer the pirate boy who ran those seas. He was one of them. One of the Gladers. One of the Right Arm.

Yet, memories clawed at the edges of his mind, unbidden.

They reached the outpost just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Rusted ships littered the small cove, half-sunken and worn by salt and storms.

Wooden crates sat stacked against broken buildings, a faint flicker of firelight drifting through the cracks in the walls.

Vincent signaled them to halt.

"Stay sharp," he whispered. "Looks like someone's here."

Nico's throat tightened.

He recognized the tattered black flag hanging limp from a mast — the symbol of the Deadly Acid. His old crew.

A cold chill spread down his spine.

He swallowed hard.

"Are you okay?" Hugo asked, eyes flicking toward him.

Nico nodded, but his voice came out shaky. "Yeah. Just... didn't expect to see this."

Minho crouched beside him. "You know them?"

Nico glanced toward the flickering shadows beyond the buildings. "Used to."

Thomas stepped forward. "We're here to take supplies and get out. No unnecessary fights."

Nico's gaze lingered on a figure emerging from the darkness — a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, wearing a coat Nico remembered all too well.

The man's eyes locked on Nico, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face.

It was Captain Blackmore.

Nico's breath hitched.

Captain Blackmore was the one who led the pirate crew Nico had once been part of — a brutal man who was like a father to Nico.

The figure advanced, shouting orders to the crew hidden in the shadows. More pirates emerged, weapons drawn, surrounding the group.

Vincent raised his hand, signaling the Gladers to stand firm.

Nico stepped forward. "I don't want to fight," he called out.

Blackmore sneered. "Funny, son. You left us when we needed you most. Now you crawl back to these rats."

Minho's hand went to his blade.

Nico raised his voice, steady but fierce. "I left because I saw what you really were. Murderers. Thieves. And I won't let you hurt my friends."

The tension snapped.

The battle was fierce but quick.

Nico fought not just with skill but with raw, painful determination — every strike fueled by years of regret and the desperate need to protect the family he'd found here.

When the last pirate fled into the night, the group gathered breathlessly in the fading light.

Nico stood apart, chest heaving, sweat and dirt smeared across his face.

Vincent clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You did good."

Thomas nodded. "We all have ghosts. It's how we face them that counts."

Nico looked toward the sea — the place where his past had once ruled, now a distant shadow swallowed by the strength he found here.

He realized then that the battle wasn't just outside — it was inside him too.

As the group began packing supplies for their return, Nico caught Hugo's eye and smiled faintly.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Hugo smiled back. "You earned it."

And for the first time in a long time, Nico felt it — the calm after the storm.

★