It was always hard to tell what the hunters would return to upon arriving back to the island. Sometimes it was quiet; a normal day filled with thick fog and clouds swirling overhead. Other times there was chaos—hunters running around, screams, pain, someone barking orders. And now all he could hear was the calmness in Clarice’s voice as the announcement repeated over, over, over again until the next day came and he was swimming in vague memories and puzzle pieces of information. Clarice is dead. Power is mostly down. Conserve phone battery. Bits of reality that told Wilson that he was tethered to the ground still. Tied by his physical body.

Who do you think you are? To be honest, he didn’t know. He was someone. He was a hunter. He was—

Look at your shadow. He obeyed. At first he saw only his shadow, but then it morphed into something else. A figure with a sword.

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You have forgotten something. Memories. I borrowed those from you and now you have my word I will return them. Take these memories and use remember their blessing. As long as you remember your path as a hero, I will be there.

Wilson blinked. Memories? When had he forgotten…?

He stared into the darkness as the party lights flashed. Silhouettes writhed against the darkness, but something more lurked inside. Oh that was right. When had he…?

A gloved hand touched the lock carefully. He hummed thoughtfully before walking away. What else had he forgotten, he wondered?