Monotone

I was thrown towards the side wall as the ship violently lurched, my swollen back violently hitting the far wall. I wildly gasped for air, the wind having been knocked out of me.

My back was racked with pain, but I didn't break anything. At least that was what I hoped.

"Get up lad. A storm is upon us."

The elf hadn't noticed what I had done in the moment before.

I quickly checked my runes to see what I had missed. Surprisingly, there was nothing there.

I was sure I had heard something in my head.

It was probably the voices again.

Choosing not to dwell on it, I got up and headed towards the door, moving out to the deck.

The moment I stepped onto the deck, the full fury of the storm hit like a physical blow.

Air thick with moisture, wind howling like a wild beast, tearing at my tattered clothes and stinging my exposed skin.

The once-gray sky had turned a malevolent black, clouds swirling in a chaotic dance as lightning flashed in the distance, briefly illuminating the roiling sea below.

Waves towered around us, monstrous walls of water crashing against the ship with a force that made the entire vessel shudder and groan.

Rain poured down in sheets, each drop a needle of ice-cold water piercing through me.

Saltwater spray mixed with the rain, leaving a bitter, briny taste in the air that clung to my lips.

Chaos ruled the deck. Sailors shouted orders at the top of their lungs, their voices barely audible over the roar of the storm.

They moved with frantic urgency, faces pale with fear as they struggled to keep the ship from capsizing.

Sails, now half-lowered, flapped violently in the wind, threatening to tear free from their rigging. The mast creaked ominously, wood straining against the force of the gale, and every time the ship lurched, it felt as if it might snap in two.

"Reef the sails! Secure the lines!" one of the officers bellowed, his voice rough and commanding, though tinged with desperation.

"Get those ropes tied down! Now!"

Slaves were immediately ordered into action, and I was among them, my body still aching from the lash and the earlier collision with the wall.

We scrambled across the deck, fighting against the wind and the pitch of the ship, our movements clumsy and disjointed.

Ropes were heavy, waterlogged, and our emaciated arms struggled to pull them tight, to secure them before the wind could tear the ship apart.

"Move it, you dogs!" barked one of the overseers, cracking his whip as a reminder of what awaited those who faltered.

The lash cut through the air, the threat as sharp as ever, though the storm itself felt like a far greater danger.

Rising on the crest of a massive wave, the ship hung for a terrifying moment, suspended in the air, the world teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Then, with a sickening lurch, it plummeted down the other side, the ship groaning as it hit the trough of the wave, the force nearly sending us sprawling across the deck.

I caught myself just in time, fingers gripping the slick wood as I struggled to keep my balance.

Waves kept coming, relentless and unforgiving, each one threatening to swallow the ship whole. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the crew as they fought to keep control, faces twisted in concentration and fear.

Even the slaves who were lifeless before now had a fire in their eyes. It was faint, but it was there. It was the will to survive.

I wasn't sure about myself. Life was good, but death was equally inviting.

Thunder boomed overhead, a deafening roar vibrating through my very bones, adding to the storm's cacophony.

"Get those sails down! We're gonna lose the mast!" another sailor shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

More ropes thrust into our hands, and we pulled with all the strength we had left, muscles burning with the effort.

My breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle as the wind tried to steal the air from my lungs.

Rain pounded down, blinding me, stinging my eyes, but I found myself unable to stop.

Maybe I too, wanted to survive.

I closed my eyes and pulled, ceasing all thought.

I could feel something bubbling up inside of me, like there was something I was missing.

There was something important I was forgetting.

We continued to work, the ship continued to rise and fall with the waves, each lurch sending another shock of pain through my battered body.

The storm was unrelenting, a force of nature that cared nothing for our suffering. It wanted to drag us down into the depths, to claim us as its own.

As I struggled to do my part, to keep the ship from succumbing, a part of me wondered if it might be easier to just let go, to surrender to the storm and let it take me.

No, there was something wrong.

There was something very wrong.

Ever since I came out of the captain's cabin, there had been a prickling sensation at the back of my mind.

No, it was something from deep within. Like a part of me was screaming that there was something very wrong with me.

But that thought was quickly banished as another wave slammed into the side of the ship, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I clenched my jaw, gritted my teeth, and kept pulling, kept fighting, even as the storm raged around us.

Time passed, the storm raged on. It got worse, even. It was as if the sea itself detested our presence, as if it wanted to make us drown, wanted to annihilate us.

As if it wanted me to lose.

'Huh? Lose? Lose what?'

"LISTEN UP, YA MONGRELS!" Hans, who was also the head overseer, bellowed in a low, grating voice.

His voice was amplified by an artifact shaped like a podium at the edge of the upper deck.

Not daring to stop their tasks lest the storm take them, the slaves lent an ear to him, lest he take them instead.

"ONE OF YA FUCKERS ANGERED THE GODS! HE NEEDS TA' BE THROWN OFF OR ALL OF YA FILTH CAN DIE." He announced, much to the dread of my fellow thralls.

The wind started to pick up, the storm increasing in intensity. Even after a while of waiting, no one stepped up.

It was obvious, why would someone sacrifice themself to the sea for the others.

It was quite pathetic, to be honest.

'Maybe I should volunteer?'

I didn't. The feeling at the back of my head was growing stronger, and I felt if there was an invisible veil between me and the world, like my mind was disconnected with my body.

"HAVE IT YER WAY! LET THE GODS DECIDE. WE DRAW LOTS!", the overseer bellowed, his mouth a thin sneer despite the desperacy of the situation.

A second giant elf, emerged from the back of the deck, carrying in his hands a long piece of parchment.

Another supervisor.

He handed them over to Hans, who started writing names on torn slips of parchment.

The brittle, inexpensive kind.

Names were written, oars were rowed, the storm continued and waves crashed over the ship.

Drenched and desperate, the slaves looked up to their masters in hopes of salvation.

His lips twisted in a sadistic grin, Hans emptied the slips into a leather pouch, fastening it.

Shaking it up, he opened it again and put his hand inside.

This was it. The moment of truth. The tingling got stronger.

"NUMBER 87!", he rumbled.

I didn't know who number 87 was. I knew we were branded with numbers, but they were at the back of our ears.

I didn't have any friends so I didn't know my number.

I honestly hadn't cared. Until today.

An overseer came forward, walking the length of the ship, heading towards us. The damned guy must have been in the back.

Poor him.

The overseer kept walking until he reached us.

He walked further ahead.

I felt a huge burden lift off my chest that I didn't even know was there.

Then I felt a hand touching my ear, slowly bending it to reveal the brand beneath.

"Get up.", the man said.

It was me. I was number 87.

Of course. What did I expect?

My [Jinxed] attribute came in clutch at the worst possible moment.

By now, I was resolute not to die. The feeling at the back of my head was a discordant cacophony of jingles and chimes now, raging in my head. Death didn't look as comfortable anymore.

I wanted to survive.

I didn't know why.

Just as I raised my hand to incapacitate the overseer, a gust of wind blew and my hand became firmly rooted in place.

"Can't have you trying that again.", the captain said, his voice as airy as ever.

His stone-cold grip was firm, his gaze unflinching.

I looked straight into his emerald eyes.

That was my second mistake.

Immediately, the noise inside my head muted to a low throb, the world losing colour again.

'Ah, the world is back to normal again.'

The sky was back to its usual grey, the water black as ever.

Was it black a moment ago?

Anyways, I had things to do. Things like jumping into the water.

I had drawn the lot. It was kind of a sad ending, but it was what it was.

It seemed fair though. I had lived my life rowing above the sea, and now I would be buried beneath it.

I grinned at the captain, and then waved at my fellow prisoners. I opened my mouth to say my goodbyes, but then I realized something.

I didn't know their names. The people I had been working with my whole life, I didn't know who they were.

That seemed like a trivial detail though, for some reason. Names were worthless after all.

Dropping the matter, I closed my half open mouth and walked towards the plank, located near the stern of the ship.

The plank was wooden, as planks often are. It creaked under my feet, groaning under the sudden weight. It was wet and slippery, and I trudged slowly to the edge, lest I fall over.

But that's what I had to do.

Giving my fellow companions one last look, I waved at them, my hand flailing against the wind.

They were good men, even the captain and the overseers. It was a good life, a good voyage.

I gave them one final, wide smile, my back facing the water.

And then I jumped off.