Jason hung loosely from the chains, his body kneeling forward, held up only by the cold, unyielding metal that tethered him to the walls of the cave. His posture was a crumpled testament to his torment—his form bent forward at an unnatural angle, only the chains preventing him from collapsing face-first onto the icy ground below.

  For what felt like an eternity, he had been trapped in a haze of unconsciousness, but now, for the first time, his eyelids fluttered open. His vision was blurry, a swirling void of shapes and shadows. He didn’t move—couldn’t move much at first. There was only the quiet stillness of the cave.

  But then, amidst the silence, a sound pierced through the fog—soft at first, almost imperceptible. His heartbeat. Slow. Reluctant. Each pulse seemed to echo within his chest, slow at first, then gradually quickening, the rhythm of life still faintly persistent.

  In the depths of his body, he could feel it—the faintest spark of flame, buried beneath layers of coldness. It was weak, struggling to warm him from the inside out, fighting against the frozen emptiness that gripped his body and the harsh chill of the cave around him. It was the only thing that still felt alive in him, the last remnant of the power he once held.

  He drew in a sharp breath through his nose, the air icy, biting at his lungs. Then, he exhaled slowly through his mouth, and a cloud of steam escaped, vanishing into the frigid air—a small, fleeting sign of life in a world that seemed to want to swallow him whole.

  As his vision slowly cleared, his eyes began to focus, though everything around him still felt distant and surreal. His head, heavy with the weight of years, barely lifted. Even that small movement drained him—every inch of effort felt like a battle, his energy a scarce resource, already slipping away with each passing second. But the desire to understand, to see what had become of him, pushed him forward.

  With a painful grunt, he forced himself to look around. The cave was vast, dark, and suffocating, the oppressive cold wrapping around him like a second skin. His limbs were stiff, almost unfeeling, as if they had been frozen in time. The chains that held him rattled slightly with the movement, sending a wave of sharp, biting pain through his wrists, the metal digging into his flesh like a cruel reminder of his imprisonment.

  His heartbeat echoed louder now, the only sound in the otherwise silent cave, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like his entire world was nothing but that slow, rhythmic pulse, each beat reminding him of how much he had lost and how little was left.

  Without warning, the chains that held Jason gave out, snapping from the cold stone walls with a sharp, metallic crack. His body, no longer supported, collapsed forward. He fell—hard—face-first onto the frozen cave floor.

  The impact was agony.

  A sharp, blinding pain exploded through his body, every nerve screaming in protest. His weakened muscles, stiff from centuries of immobility, were useless to break his fall. His chest struck the ground with force, his arms barely reacting in time to lessen the blow. The frigid stone beneath him was merciless, leeching what little warmth remained in his body.

  A scream of pain should have erupted from his throat—but it didn’t. His mouth opened, but no sound came. Only a ragged gasp. His voice, locked away for so long, refused to answer him. His throat burned, his vocal cords unresponsive, as if frozen along with the rest of him.

  His breathing came fast, uneven, each inhale scraping like a knife against his lungs. The cold, once numbing, now became unbearable, sinking its claws deeper into his flesh. It was sharper now, more real than before, stabbing into every limb, every joint.

  His body trembled where he lay, fingers twitching, legs refusing to obey him. He could feel his own heartbeat—weak, erratic, struggling to keep going.

  Misery. Horror.

  Jason's face, half-buried against the ice-cold stone, twisted in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening. The pain. The exhaustion. The sheer, crushing weight of weakness. Was this really him? Was this what had become of the power he once held?

  Somewhere in the depths of his mind, voices murmured—faint, distant, unintelligible. But he couldn’t make them out. They were drowned beneath the overwhelming sensations flooding his body—pain, hunger, thirst, cold. He clenched his teeth, trying to focus, but even his thoughts were sluggish, slipping between his fingers like sand.

  But there was still something. A flicker. A single, fragile spark of warmth buried deep in his core. The last ember of his power, struggling, refusing to die.

  Jason latched onto it.

  His fingers twitched again. His muscles protested, but he forced them to move. Slowly. Weakly. Desperately. His body was his prison, but he would not let it keep him chained forever. He had to move. He had to survive.

  Jason gritted his teeth, forcing his fingers to move. The cave floor was rough beneath his hands, jagged stone scraping against his trembling fingertips. His arms barely obeyed him, muscles frail and stiff, but he pressed his palms against the icy ground, trying to drag himself forward.

  The sound of metal scraping against stone echoed through the cave.

  The weight of the chains still bound to his wrists made every movement even harder. Heavy, rusted iron links dragged behind him, clattering as he struggled to pull them forward. Each shift of his arms sent a jolt of strain through his weakened muscles, as if the chains were trying to keep him down.

  His breath was shallow, uneven. Every inch forward felt like agony. His body screamed in protest, but the hunger, the thirst, the instinct to move overpowered the pain. He couldn’t stay here.

  Then, he saw them.

  His hands.

  The moment his blurred vision fully focused on them, his breath caught in his throat.

  They were nothing like he remembered.

  Pale. Gaunt. Skin stretched too tightly over the bones, marked with deep, jagged scars. His fingers, once strong, were thin and trembling, the nails uneven, cracked. The iron shackles dug into his wrists, rust and dried blood crusted where metal had bitten into flesh. The chains pulled at him like a dead weight, a final shackle tying him to the darkness.

  Jason froze. His heart pounded against his ribs, a surge of cold fear washing over him. This wasn’t his body. It couldn’t be.

  He tried to close his fingers into a fist, but even that was difficult. They were too weak. His own hands—unrecognizable. A shiver ran through him, but not from the cold.

  The hunger in his stomach twisted violently, almost making him sick. The thirst in his throat was unbearable, like he had been swallowing dust for centuries.

  He clenched his jaw.

  Move.

  He dragged himself forward again, the chains scraping behind him, their weight slowing him down. His hair, longer than it had ever been, spilled over his shoulders, strands falling into his face. He turned his head slightly, but even that movement made him aware of its weight, the way it tangled against his chest, his arms.

  And his beard—it was thick, rough against his skin, unfamiliar.

  It was as if he were wearing the body of someone else.

  But there was no time to dwell on it.

  A faint glow caught his eye.

  In the distance, past the darkness of the cave, a dim light flickered. It wasn’t bright, but it was there—a sign that the outside world still existed.

  And then, a scent.

  Faint, but unmistakable.

  Salt.

  The sea.

  Jason’s breath hitched. His fingers curled against the stone, the shackles clanking softly with the movement.

  He had to reach it.

  He had to get out.

  Jason kept moving.

  The weight of the chains still dragged at his wrists, but the movement—agonizing as it was—stirred something in his body. A faint warmth, a flicker of life. His frozen muscles burned, weak but awakening, forcing blood through his stiff limbs.

  If he stopped, he might never move again.

  The air changed.

  The scent of salt grew stronger, carried on the faintest breath of wind. It was subtle, but real. The closer he crawled to the dim light ahead, the more he felt it—the whisper of a breeze against his skin, the promise of something beyond this place.

  Then, the voices came.

  At first, just one. Distant. Fragile, like a memory fraying at the edges.

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  "Jason... Come back, my boy..."

  His body tensed. His fingers curled against the stone.

  Another voice, raw with sorrow.

  "Jason... why... you left me..."

  He clenched his jaw, forcing himself forward, dragging the chains with him. He knew what these were. Remnants of the illusion. Echoes of the past, clawing at him, trying to pull him back into the nothingness.

  But there were others.

  A burst of laughter—soft, warm. A female voice, familiar. It sent a shiver down his spine.

  Then, cheering. Voices chanting his name, a crowd celebrating, roaring with triumph.

  Some of them felt distant, but strong—pushing him forward.

  Others… others made his skin crawl.

  A strange unease tightened in his chest, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

  The light was closer now. The wind stronger.

  He dragged himself onward.

  Jason reached the light at last, but instead of relief, it struck him like a blade.

  The sudden brightness was unbearable, a painful shock after being entombed in darkness for what felt like an eternity. His vision, unprepared for such an intense contrast, drowned in blinding white. Instinct took over as he raised a shaking, dirt-streaked hand to shield his eyes, his fingers barely responding to his will. Even this simple movement sent a sharp ache through his body, reminding him of his frailty. His breath came ragged and unsteady as he forced his eyes to adjust, blinking rapidly as the blinding void gradually melted into shapes, colors, and finally—a world beyond the cave.

  And then, he saw it.

  At first, it was distant, framed by the jagged tunnel-like walls of the cave. A shimmering expanse at the very end of his vision—vast, moving, alive. The further he crawled, the clearer it became. The scent of salt thickened in the air, the distant crashing of waves growing louder with every agonizing movement forward. The space ahead widened as he neared the threshold, the light intensifying.

  And then, Jason crossed it.

  The moment he passed through the mouth of the cave, the world fully revealed itself, and his breath caught in his throat.

  Water.

  Everywhere.

  A vast, restless sea stretched out before him, endless and unforgiving. The realization settled over him like a lead weight, pressing into his already battered form. He had felt the salt in the air long before he could see it, a sharp tang that coated his tongue and stung his cracked lips. The wind, cold and briny, lashed against his skin, sending an involuntary shudder through his exhausted frame. It was stronger out here, untamed, a stark contrast to the stillness of the cave.

  Behind him, the cave’s entrance loomed, jagged and shadowed, its darkness a stark contrast to the open world before him. But there was no path forward, no welcoming land—only the merciless expanse of ocean stretching to the horizon in every direction.

  Jason forced himself to move, dragging his heavy limbs across the uneven stone, feeling the weight of the chains still shackled to him. With great effort, he reached the highest point of the rock formation, his breath ragged as he lifted his head to take in his surroundings.

  And it was then, at the peak, that the true depth of his predicament settled in.

  The ground beneath him was solid but narrow, a formation of three massive, weather-worn rocks jutting from the sea, surrounded by nothing but water as far as his failing eyes could see. The waves crashed violently against the base of the rocks, sending bursts of white foam into the air, their ceaseless roar filling his ears. The sound was deafening, chaotic, almost suffocating.

  He had escaped the cave, yet what awaited him was no salvation.

  Jason collapsed at the edge, his strength nearly gone. He barely registered the icy bite of the wind against his skin or the damp chill of the sea spray clinging to his hair and clothes. His fingers curled weakly against the rough stone, the weight of the shackles dragging at his wrists, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths.

  This wasn’t what he had expected.

  There was no land, no road forward—only the merciless expanse of the ocean, stretching in all directions like an unbroken prison. A bitter realization settled into his bones, heavier than even the chains that still bound him. Had he fought so hard, struggled so desperately, only to find himself trapped in another kind of cage?

  His body trembled—not from fear, not even from pain, but from the sheer weight of hopelessness pressing into his very core. His mind was a haze of exhaustion and hunger, his thoughts slipping between clarity and delirium.

  Then, through the fog of his mind, a voice echoed—not from the illusion, but from a memory, sharp and piercing.

  “How do you think your physical form looks right now? You’re barely alive, Jason. Weak, broken… If you knew everything, you would beg me to lock you up here again!”

  Lockhart’s words struck like a blade, twisting deep. His lips parted as if to answer, but only a ragged breath escaped. His heart pounded, and something inside him—something raw and buried beneath layers of suffering—surged to the surface.

  A sudden burst of strength, fueled by rage, defiance, and something even deeper—something primal.

  With a guttural cry, Jason slammed both hands against the stone beneath him, the impact rattling through his bones. His body arched backward, his head tilting to the sky as a scream tore from his throat—hoarse, cracked, but filled with the anguish of a thousand years. The sound was swallowed by the crashing waves, but it was his. His alone.

  Breathless, trembling, Jason slowly lowered his head, his expression twisted in something between fury and grief. He lifted his hands, dragging them in front of his face.

  Scars. Cuts. A pale, sickly complexion stretched over a frame that had once been strong. His fingers trembled as he turned his hands over, the rusted shackles biting into his wrists, the weight of the remaining chains pulling at his movements. His nails were cracked, his skin marred by time and torment.

  His chest tightened as he stared, his breath shaky. He barely recognized himself.

  For a moment, just a moment, he felt the sting of tears threatening to surface. But he blinked them away, his jaw tightening.

  He was still here. Still breathing.

  And despite everything, despite the prison of sea and sky around him—he was not done yet.

  Jason swayed where he knelt, his breath ragged, his body trembling from exhaustion, hunger, and the relentless cold. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, heavy and sluggish, barely responding to his will. The crushing weight of his situation pressed down on him, suffocating, inescapable.

  His vision blurred.

  The sound of the waves roared in his ears, merging with the pounding in his skull. His muscles burned with fatigue, his stomach twisted in hollow agony. His body was failing. It was only a matter of time before—His balance faltered.

  The world tilted beneath him.

  And suddenly, Jason was falling.

  The moment he slipped over the edge, gravity seized him, yanking him down like an unseen hand eager to claim him. The rock vanished from beneath his fingers, the wind howled past his ears—then—Impact.

  Icy water crashed over him like a wall of knives, searing his skin with unbearable cold. His lungs clenched, a violent shock ripping through his system. The sea swallowed him whole, dragging him into its abyss, the chains still shackled to his wrists making every movement a desperate struggle.

  He flailed on instinct, his body twisting, fighting—survive, survive, survive—but the freezing depths coiled around him, sapping his strength. His head broke the surface for just a second—gasp—before the waves pulled him under again.

  His limbs slowed. The fight in him withered.

  As the darkness of the deep wrapped around him, Jason's half-lidded eyes caught movement.

  Shadows.

  Sleek, fast, circling below.

  Then, the first flash of teeth.

  His heart lurched.

  Sharks.

  They were closing in, drawn to him like starving beasts to dying prey. The water trembled with their presence, their bodies gliding closer, waiting for the moment to strike.

  A shape moved—right beneath him.

  Jason could see it now. The dark outline of a predator surging upward, its mouth parting, the rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting even in the murky blue—

  And then, something inside him snapped.

  A force erupted from deep within his core, raw and untamed, spreading through his body like wildfire. His veins pulsed with power he didn’t know he had left.

  The ocean around him shimmered.

  A deep, blue light exploded from his body, rippling through the water in all directions. It was not fire, not the flames he once commanded—this was something else.

  The sharks halted.

  Their movements changed, no longer erratic hunters, but something else entirely. They circled him differently now, no longer lunging, no longer attacking.

  They were waiting.

  Jason barely had time to process it before his vision wavered. The cold, the hunger, the exhaustion—his body had reached its limit. The strength that had flared within him flickered once, then died down.

  The last thing he saw before unconsciousness claimed him was the sight of sharks moving beneath him—gripping the chains, his clothes—pulling him somewhere through the sea.

  The darkness closed in around him, the weight of unconsciousness pulling him under like a deep, suffocating tide.

  But then, just before everything faded to nothingness, something cut through the murk of his mind.

  "Jason, wait! Here, take my hand..."

  The voice was familiar, sharp, insistent.

  "What's the matter, D.?"

  He could almost feel the urgency in the words, as if someone was standing right beside him, pulling him back from the brink.

  "Just do it..."

  Jason, lost in the fog of his fading consciousness, tried to grasp the fleeting thread of connection. "Alright... What... what is that?"

  "Just for safety... it might never be useful, but who knows... maybe one day, it will save your life..."

  There was a strange warmth in the words, an assurance that seemed to reach beyond his broken state.

  "I—... I don't know what to say... Thanks, D."

  And just like that, the voices faded.

  In the silence that followed, Jason’s body slipped deeper into the blackness, his mind slipping further away from his conscious thoughts.

  But then, something stirred.

  His eyelids fluttered.

  He could feel the cold water around him, the gentle pull of the ocean, but it wasn’t the crushing weight it had been before. He was warm, not cold.

  He opened his eyes.

  Above him, the surface of the water was shifting, rolling in gentle waves. The sharks were still there, circling him, but now they were not aggressive. Their movements were careful, almost respectful. They pulled him forward, their jaws gently tearing at the chains that bound him, dragging him through the sea with a surprising sense of purpose.

  Jason’s body, still faintly glowing with that ethereal blue aura, felt lighter. Not just from the sharks pulling him, but from something within. His breath came easier now, the hunger and thirst still gnawing at him but no longer all-consuming. He felt a strange comfort in the sea, as though the very waves were embracing him, understanding his presence.

  His head rose slightly, the world around him coming into clearer focus. His blurred vision sharpened just enough for him to see a faint glimmer on the horizon. A shoreline.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  For the first time since he’d awoken in that cave, Jason felt a flicker of hope.

  He wasn’t sure where this place was, or how long it would take to reach, but it was land. The shore was there, in the distance. He could make it.

  For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jason thought… maybe, just maybe, he would survive this.

  Maybe this wasn't the end.