Chapter 3: The Isle of Forgotten Echoes

The sea was restless. Waves crashed against The Stormcaller as Elara stood at the helm, gripping the wheel tightly. The map had revealed their first destination—an island marked by a crescent moon. An island no one had ever heard of.

Dorian leaned against the railing, watching the darkening horizon. "So, let me get this straight—we're chasing a cursed treasure, following directions from a ghost captain, and now sailing toward an island that isn't on any known charts?"

"That's about right," Elara said.

He smirked. "Madness. I love it."

Calla adjusted the sails, her sharp eyes scanning the waves. "We should be nearing the island soon. But the waters ahead…" She frowned. "Something feels off."

Elara turned her gaze to the sea. The water was unnaturally still, and the wind had died down, leaving an eerie silence in its place. A mist curled around the ship, thick and unnatural.

Then, a sound echoed through the fog. A whisper.

Not the wind.

Not the waves.

It was the same whispering they had heard from Captain Rhyzar's ship. But this time, it came from all around them.

Finn tensed. "I don't like this."

Elara's pulse quickened. "Stay sharp."

As the mist began to clear, the silhouette of an island emerged. Jagged cliffs lined the shore, and at its peak, an ancient ruin loomed against the dark sky. A crescent-shaped rock formation stood over the water, just like the symbol on the map.

They had found it.

The Island's Warning

The crew anchored the ship just offshore, lowering a small boat into the water. Elara, Dorian, Calla, and Finn rowed toward the beach, the mist clinging to their skin.

As they stepped onto the sand, a sudden chill ran through them. The island was deathly silent—no birds, no rustling leaves. Just silence.

Elara knelt, scooping up a handful of sand. It was darker than normal, almost ash-like.

"There's something wrong with this place," Calla murmured.

A whisper drifted through the trees. The same eerie voice they had heard at sea.

Then, in the distance, a figure appeared.

A man, or what remained of one. His body was translucent, his hollow eyes glowing faintly. His clothes were tattered, remnants of a sailor's uniform from an age long past.

"Who dares disturb this place?" the ghost rasped.

Elara stepped forward. "We seek the key."

The ghost narrowed his eyes. "You seek doom."

Dorian sighed. "Of course we do."

The spirit floated closer, his form flickering. "Many have come before you. None have left."

Finn's hand went to his sword. "Then we'll be the first."

The ghost let out a low, hollow laugh. "If you wish to claim the key, you must face the echoes of those who failed before you."

Before anyone could react, the ground trembled. From the shadows of the ruins, more figures emerged—dozens of spectral warriors, their hollow eyes burning with the same ghostly glow.

Finn cursed. "I knew this was a bad idea."

Elara drew her cutlass. "We fight."

The ghosts charged.

Battle of the Forgotten

The air grew thick with swirling mist as the spirits descended upon them. Elara swung her cutlass, slicing through one of the ghostly figures. The blade passed through it, but the ghost recoiled, hissing as if wounded.

"They can be hurt!" she called out.

Dorian grinned, drawing his twin daggers. "Good to know."

He lunged at one of the spirits, slashing through its form. The ghost let out a shriek before dissolving into mist.

Calla raised her flintlock pistol and fired. The bullet struck a ghost in the chest, causing it to flicker violently before vanishing.

Finn, ever the brute, swung his broadsword with sheer force, scattering spirits like wind through fog.

Despite their efforts, the ghosts kept coming. The whispers grew louder, their voices merging into a haunting wail.

Then, Elara saw it—a pedestal at the center of the ruins, with a golden medallion resting atop it. The first key.

"We need to get to that pedestal!" she shouted.

Dorian ducked under a ghost's swipe. "Easier said than done!"

Elara didn't wait. She sprinted forward, dodging spectral hands reaching for her. Her heart pounded as she leaped onto the pedestal and grabbed the medallion.

The moment her fingers closed around it, a shockwave pulsed through the ruins.

The ghosts let out a unified wail before vanishing into the mist. The air grew still.

Dorian whistled. "Well, that was dramatic."

Elara held up the medallion. The intricate carvings glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.

"The first key," she murmured.

One step closer to the Forgotten Gold.

But something told her the hardest trials were yet to come.