Timestamp
87th of Spring
Antelokes scowled at the object in his hand, holding it up to catch the sun’s fading rays. It had been stuck into the dock, lodged between two tightly fit planks and pushed deeper by footsteps, by the look of it. His fingers still ached from the effort of extracting it. The item was another charm, that was apparent, but the blacksmith was trying to guess as to its purpose. Some of the others had been self-explanatory, others had not. One or two of the things he still couldn’t tell what they did—or if they did anything at all. This one was shaped like a leaf. Like all the others it was expertly formed, and delicate etchings made it an impressive artistic feat.
What could its purpose be? Antelokes mulled the question over in his mind but came to no immediate logical conclusion. Not any that made much sense anyway. Shrugging, the young man placed the little leaf charm on his bracelet with the others. There was no immediate effect. That was just as well. He had enough things on his plate at the moment. He could deal with understanding charms later.
With a sigh, Antelokes sank down to sit along the edge of Syka’s dock, reaching down to let his fingertips dance along the surface of the water. He was alone, staring out across the rolling sea. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, lighting the ocean up with a symphony of warm colors. He relished a cool breeze as it drifted across his skin.
As he turned his gaze down from the setting sun, Antelokes caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the water. With the ever-moving swells, the image was choppy and distorted. Indistinct. Antelokes sighed, pulling his hand up and flicking the excess water from his fingertips.
His visions came every day, and since sunrise today he hadn’t experienced anything markedly “visionary.” Since the curse had descended upon him, there had been no exceptions to its schedule. He had no reason to believe that today would mark the end of that consistency. So, he waited. He was not anxious, for there was nothing he could do to stop it. The young man just stared out across the sea with dark, tired eyes. Waiting.
As the sun fell still lower, so did Antelokes’ eyelids. He was weary and sleep beckoned him. Still, the young man waited. Just this once, he wanted to face the vision on his own terms and in the place of his choosing.
As he watched the sea and sky blurred together. Antelokes blinked a few times rapidly, wetting his eyes and shaking the sleep from them. But even so he found that he still couldn’t find the horizon line marking the border between water and air. Antelokes stood, slowly, deliberately.
As he did so the sun’s light dimmed and retreated, like a candle with no wick left to burn. The young man on the dock was left staring out into an endless dark expanse. He turned, glancing back towards Syka, but he was only greeted with the same sheet of blackness. So it had begun. The vision.
The dock beneath his feet had disappeared as well, leaving him drifting alone through an empty void. He stared into the abyss with flint-hard eyes, and it stared back.
