CHAPTER 18: "THE CAPTAIN"

The man—the one with the cold eyes and the blue-glowing sword—had just told him to follow. Then he'd turned and walked away like that was all the explanation anyone needed. Like "I'm going this way" was the same as "come with me," was the same as "trust me even though I just threatened to cut off your fingers."

Speed watched him go.

The man moved with an ease that suggested he'd done this before—been chased, fought, killed things, saved random strangers from boars. His cloak drifted behind him in a breeze that Speed still couldn't feel. The blue glow from his sword had faded slightly now that the blade was fully sheathed, but it was still there, still pulsing, still a reminder that this person was different from anyone Speed had ever met.

Behind him, the other two figures moved into position. The archer and the staff-wielder. They didn't say anything. Didn't acknowledge Speed. They just fell into step behind their leader and kept walking toward the jungle.

Speed was on his own.

He looked down at his hands.

They were still shaking.

His entire body was still in panic mode, still flooded with adrenaline, still convinced that the boar was going to come back to life and eat him despite being very clearly dead on the sand behind him.

The man reached the edge of the jungle.

He paused for just a second, his silhouette framed against the vegetation. Speed got a clearer look at him then—the practical knot in his dark hair, the way the cloak hung on his shoulders like it was part of him, the exact angle at which he held his sword. This was a professional. This was someone who'd fought his entire life and probably would keep fighting until he didn't anymore.

Then the man stepped into the jungle and disappeared from view.

The archer followed.

Then the staff-wielder.

Speed was left alone on the beach with the corpse of a boar that had tried to kill him and the fading light of two moons that were almost completely gone now.

"I don't know who that guy is," Speed muttered to himself. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "But I'm pretty sure I shouldn't trust him."

He pulled himself to his feet, testing his legs, making sure they actually worked. They responded, though slowly. Everything in his body was screaming at him to rest, to sleep, to pass out and wake up somewhere that made sense.

But the man had told him to follow.

And following seemed like the better option than staying on this beach alone, where boars could emerge from the jungle and fairies could vanish without warning and the world could stop making sense at any moment.

Speed hesitated for one more second.

The jungle was dark. The trees were tall and strange and probably full of things that wanted to kill him. The man was cold and calculating and had just threatened to cut off his fingers. This was a terrible idea.

But the village was burning in his memory. The boy's hand was still cold in his mental replay of events. The Titan's foot was still descending in slow motion every time he closed his eyes.

Anything was better than being alone with those memories.

Speed brushed the sand off his shorts. Most of it came away. Most of his injuries probably needed attention too, but they could wait. They'd have to wait. Everything could wait until he figured out what the hell was happening in this world and whether this cold-eyed stranger was going to kill him or save him or something in between.

He jogged after the group.

The jungle swallowed him.

The path was narrow.

Trees towered overhead, their canopy so thick that only slivers of moonlight broke through. The vegetation was strange—some of it glowed faintly with its own bioluminescence, casting everything in a pale blue-green haze. Vines hung from branches like snakes. Strange flowers bloomed in the darkness, their shapes suggesting they'd never evolved on Earth, in any world that followed the same rules as Speed's.

The man moved through it with the ease of someone who'd walked this path before. His footsteps made almost no sound. His cloak didn't catch on anything—it just seemed to flow around obstacles like it had a mind of its own.

The archer moved with similar grace.

The staff-wielder was less graceful, but still competent.

Speed tried to match their pace and failed almost immediately. His legs were exhausted. His mind was exhausted. His entire soul was exhausted. But he kept moving, kept pushing, kept following this group of strangers into a jungle that got darker and more alien with every step.

The man glanced back once.

Their eyes met for just a second.

Speed couldn't read the expression. It was like looking into the eyes of someone who'd decided a long time ago that humanity was optional and competence was mandatory. The eyes moved forward again, and the man continued walking.

They walked for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. Time worked differently here. Time worked wrong here. It stretched and compressed and refused to behave like it should.

Eventually, they emerged into a clearing.

A camp. Tents set up in a circle. A fire pit in the middle, though no fire was currently burning. Equipment hung on wooden frames—weapons, bags, supplies that suggested these people were here for the long term.

The man stopped at the edge of the clearing.

He turned to look at Speed. Really look at him, for the first time since they'd met on the beach. His eyes scanned Speed from top to bottom, cataloging injuries, assessing threat level, calculating value.

"Rest," the man said simply. His voice carried the weight of command. This was not a suggestion. This was an order from someone who was used to being obeyed.

Speed nodded weakly.

"I..." Speed started, then stopped. What was he even going to say? Who are you? Where am I? Why are you saving me? All of those seemed stupid in the face of this man's absolute certainty.

"My name is Williams," the man said, turning away. "Captain Williams Tempest."

He walked toward one of the tents.

"Your name?" he called back without turning around.

"Speed," Speed answered. "I'm Speed Darren."

Williams paused for a fraction of a second.

Then continued into his tent.

The archer and staff-wielder were already disappearing into their own spaces. Speed was left standing in the middle of the clearing, bleeding, exhausted, surrounded by equipment that looked both medieval and somehow more advanced than that, in a world where boars had fire in their veins and fairies flew out of darkness.

He found an empty sleeping roll near the fire pit.

Collapsed onto it.

Closed his eyes.

The two moons finished setting.

The sun started to rise on the other side of the world.

And Speed, for the first time since arriving in this nightmare, slept without dreaming. His mind was too exhausted to conjure horrors. His body was too broken to sustain fear.

He just slept.

Behind him, in the jungle, the glowing plants pulsed gently. The stranger creatures of this world called to each other in the darkness. And somewhere in the forest, a little ghost boy's hand drifted through the night, searching for someone who'd promised him ice cream and swings and a park that would never exist.

But Speed didn't hear it.

For now, he was somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn't burning. Somewhere that wasn't filled with screaming.

For now, he was just a kid on a sleeping roll, surrounded by strangers, in a world that made no sense.

And that would have to be enough.