CHAPTER 20
Night settled heavily over Black Shore Island, but for Orion, the darkness felt strangely alive—thick, breathing, and attentive. After leaving the Whispering Spire, he walked deeper into the island's interior where ancient roots curved like bones beneath drifting fog. Every step he took seemed to pull out memories that weren't entirely his.
The wind did not move the fog; rather, the fog moved on its own, twitching, bending, almost reacting to his presence like a creature drawing in a scent.
His awakened Fog-Tentacle Form stirred beneath his skin—dormant, but listening.
Orion paused when he felt it again: that subtle tug, a pull not on his flesh, but on the thread between past and future.
A whisper—faint, gentle, almost sorrowful—brushed the back of his mind.
"You're almost there… I waited long enough."
It wasn't the past self speaking directly—this voice was different. Older. Colder. A shadow of something vast that had observed Black Shore Island for countless cycles.
Orion ignored it and pushed forward until he reached a clearing surrounded by towering black pines. The moonlight didn't fully reach the ground; instead it hung above like a frozen eye refusing to look down.
Fog thickened, swirling into shapes that resembled hands gripping the earth.
Then a figure stepped out.
Not a beast.
Not a monster.
But a man-shaped outline formed entirely of fog—smooth, shifting, and hollow. Its "eyes" were two dim lights, spiraling like dying stars.
Orion tightened his grip on the black blade. "Another one of the island's echoes?"
The fog-man tilted its head, voice layered with a thousand tones.
"Echo? No. I am what remains of those who tried to claim this island… and failed."
It moved without footsteps, gliding over the ground.
"You are different, Orion. I smelled his memory in you—the one who erased himself from the records."
Orion's heartbeat surged. "My past self."
"Yes."
The hollow shape circled him lazily. "He locked away everything… even from me. A clever creature—so clever he convinced the island he never existed."
The fog thickened around Orion's ankles like chains testing their weight.
Orion didn't move. "If you know him, then you know why I'm here."
"I do," the fog-man answered. "And I know what you carry inside you. That form… those tentacles… that fog that breathes with you. It is the first stage of the island's acceptance."
Orion's brow tightened. "Acceptance?"
The fog-man leaned inches from his face, its features shifting like fluid glass.
"This island devours the weak. But merges with the worthy."
Fog spiraled upward, creating a dome around them. Orion felt something inside him tremble—his Domain core reacting, vibrating, pushing against an unseen pressure.
"As long as you walk here," the fog-man continued, "Black Shore Island will test you. Reshape you. Break you. And perhaps—if you remain standing—crown you."
Orion's wings flickered behind him, feathers of white and black glimmering faintly. "Crown me with what?"
The fog-man dissolved into a whirl and reformed behind him with unnatural speed.
"With the right to rewrite what your past erased."
His heart stopped for a moment.
"Rewrite… myself?"
"Rewrite your place in the island's memory. Rewrite your meaning. Rewrite your truth."
The fog-man extended a hand of mist. "But first, Orion… you must survive me."
Fog-strands exploded outward like spears.
Orion dodged, blade flashing. He sliced through the fog—but it reformed instantly, swirling around him like a living storm.
His Fog-Tentacle Form reacted instinctively. Mist burst from his back, forming six tentacles—translucent, shifting, dripping with cold aura. They slashed outward, meeting the fog-spears head-on.
The clash made no sound, yet the air rippled violently.
The fog-man whispered:
"Good… very good. You walk the same road as he did. But will you surpass him?"
Orion's tentacles curved behind him like wings of mist, twisting with frightening precision. "I will."
"You sound confident," the figure said, dissolving into a hundred tendrils. "Then prove it."
The ground vanished beneath Orion as the fog-man dragged him into an illusion made of memories, echoes, broken timelines—but not time itself.
A place shaped entirely by the island.
And Orion felt the island looking at him through countless unseen eyes.
A test had begun.
A test meant only for someone who carried the blood, the will, the madness, and the destiny of his erased past self.
Fog closed around him like an ancient book folding shut.
And the chapter of trials opened.