"Lucian!"
Her voice pierced through the darkness to reach him. Anne's voice—tired, strained, yet relief that he was still alive.
Lucian's eyes slowly opened. His vision unsteady at first, blurred by exhaustion, but quickly sharpened. The forest floor moved beneath him in a slow offbeat rhythm—roots and leaves painfully crawled by—realization dawning with clarity.
He was being carried. On someone's back. Anne's back. The thought alone struck him harder than the agony of his body.
Lucian shifted slightly, feeling Anne's body tremble beneath him. Her shoulders sagged, her breath ragged. Each step she took sent small tremors through her exhausted frame, but still she carried him without pause.
Behind them, footsteps dragged. The ginger no,—Eric—, trailed several paces back. When Lucian turned his head toward him, Eric instantly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the trees, as to avoid being asked to help.
Lucian smirked inwardly.
'Pathetic.'
"Are you finally awake?" Anne asked between labored breaths.
Lucian gently tapped her shoulder, his voice low and shakey. "Put me down. I can walk on my own."
Anne hesitated. But when she felt his weight shift, she relented, kneeling as Lucian slid off her back. He landed on unsteady legs, boots pressing into soft earth, knees trembling. Blood still clung to his skin, crusted and fresh, and the dull roar of pain pulsed beneath every breath. Weak. Battered. Barely stitched together, but he stood.
Eric perked up immediately, his voice far too cheerful.
"You had us worried for a moment there! Thought you were done for."
Anne shot him a look colder than steel. "Is that why you wanted to leave him behind?"
Eric cleared his throat and waved dismissively, face twisting in mock indignation.
"That's… beside the point. What matters is you're alive. And lucky."
Lucian ignored him as he always did.
Instead, he turned to Anne. "Where are we?"
She pointed beyond the trees. Lucian followed her gaze—past the thinning line of the forest, across the ridge, where the land dropped off to reveal a familiar sight.
The beach.
They had returned.
The ocean roared below them, wild and endless, reflecting what little sunlight remained in shimmering multicolored waves. The sand was vacant—no signs of life, no ship, not even the Zong. But that was no great loss for who in their right mind would choose to be in bondage. All left was just the haunting emptiness of a place they had arrived as slaves, now standing as ghosts.
Lucian's jaw tightened.
Freedom was finally in his grasp.
Anne took the lead, descending the slope. The sand crunched beneath their feet as they neared the shore, eyes scanning for anything—anyone.
"Over here!" Eric called out.
He was pointing toward a cluster of jagged boulders stacked like broken teeth along the coastline. Lucian and Anne rushed over—though even "rush" was generous for Lucian's limping gait.
Almost fully behind one of the larger stones, tucked awkwardly in a shallow tide pool, was a small, weather-worn boat. It looked like it had drifted there by accident, separated from the other slave vessels.
Weird. But welcome.
Unexpectedly there was a sudden movement. Then a flash of Steel.
From behind the boat, Scarface emerged—his ragged cloak billowing with the sea breeze, his face had a few new jagged lines adding even more justification to the name. His blade was already drawn, pointed toward them like a wolf guarding a kill.
Lucian stopped cold and so did Anne.
Scarface growled, eyes narrowing.
"So a few rats escaped the slaughter."
He stepped forward, sword gleaming.
"I had a feeling that some would survive and what would you know, here you are."
Lucian's eyes locked with his. No words. Just the silent tension of hate, rising like smoke off kindling.
Eric immediately took a few steps back behind Anne and Lucian.
"Hey now, we're not here for trouble, so why don't you just let us go?"
Scarface didn't even glance at him. (This seems to be a common reaction to him).
Anne, protective, stepped slightly in front of Lucian—but he gently pulled her back.
"I've had enough of bullshit for one day,"
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, broken body limping forward.
"I'm not in the mood for games, Scarface. So are you going to let us go or are you going to die on this shore?"
"Scarface?" Anne chuckled.
The wind howled across the waves.
The silence that followed was sharp and brittle.
Scarface clenched his jaws in anger then he grinned.
"Good," he said, lowering into a stance. "I was hoping I would be the one that gets to kill you."
Scarface lunged forward, blade thrust with murderous intent, Lucian couldn't react fast enough—his body was still too broken, too slow.
But Anne seemed to have anticipated this.
"Lucian—down!"
She tackled him to the side just in time, the blade slicing the air where he'd been standing a second before. Sand exploded around them. Scarface charged right between Lucian and Anne on one side and Eric on the other.
Eric then had an idea for once.
"Eat this!"
A full fist of sand hit Scarface square in the face. He reeled back, coughing, eyes squeezed shut. Instantaneously, Lucian, Anne, and Eric all lunged, throwing their weight—battered and exhausted frame onto the man like a collapsing wall of flesh.
They crashed to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs and rage. The three clawed at his sword arm, struggling desperately to wrench the weapon from his grip.
Scarface roared, pure muscle and rage. He twisted free of Lucian's grip, then drove his elbow hard into Lucian's jaw.
Crack!
The force sent him tumbling back, he followed up with two brutal punches to Eric's side, right into the liver.
Eric gagged and collapsed whimpering.
Anne on the other hand held on, teeth clenched, trying to pin him down.
"Stay down!" she screamed.
But Scarface being in better physical health shoved her off with overwhelming force before scrambling to his feet. He stood above her as she crawled in the sand, trying to recover. He stepped forward in a swift motion and delivered an earth-shattering kick to her side, sending her rolling onto her back.
"Your'e the one who should have stayed down," he uttered mocking her plight
His arms raised, tensed, and poised for the killing thrust.
-----
Just then the sand burst beneath him.
Lucian slid in from the side, throwing himself across the beach, rolled, and caught Scarface's ankle mid-motion, then he interlocked his legs with Scarface's for a brutal takedown which freed the blade from his hand. He twisted then the sound of a pop emerged as Scarface's ankle gave out.
"ARRRGH!"....
Scarface screamed as pain erupted from his broken leg.
Lucian didn't stop he punched the broken leg wildly, but Scarface having the other leg free recovered with a vicious kick to Lucian's face, knocking him back once more.
Now all three—Lucian, Anne, and Eric—were splayed on the ground, panting, bodies failing.
Scarface rose, limping and furious. He stumbled over to where his sword lay, grabbed it, and turned back toward Lucian—who glared up at him, still unwilling to yield.
"So stubborn…" Scarface muttered.
He raised the blade—then plunged it into Lucian's thigh.
Lucian screamed in raw pain as steel met flesh. Scarface crouched over him, face twisted with sadistic joy.
"I bet you didn't see this coming, did you? But don't you worry, your death won't be quick. My smiling face will be the last face you see before the light leaves your eyes."
He wrapped his hands around Lucian's throat and began to squeeze. Lucian fought. But he was too far gone. His limbs felt like lead. His lungs burned. The edges of the world began to dim again.
Again!
But before the dark could take him, there was a sudden snap of pain radiated through his thigh—and then…
A sword burst through Scarface's mouth.
Everything became clear again. Blood sprayed, warm and sticky, across Lucian's face.
Scarface's eyes widened almost in disbelief then dimmed, as his body fell limp, slumping over Lucian before rolling to the side.
Standing behind him, face pale, hands trembling—but eyes determined was Anne.
Her voice was hoarse. "I told you… to stay… down."
Lucian gasped, drawing breath into bruised lungs as Anne knelt beside him.
"We have to go," she whispered urgently. "Now."
Eric was already stirring, groaning as he limped toward the boat tucked behind the rocks. Anne helped lift Lucian. Together, they pushed the small boat into the surf. Waves clashed at their ankles, to drag them into the cold embrace but with their last shred of strength, they climbed in.
They then collapsed inside as the boat drifted out, silent. Behind them, the shore faded—the horrors of the day slowly swallowed by distance and darkness.
They didn't know what waited ahead.
But for now…
They had survived.