Ten years had passed since Jurnises and his men first landed on this very beach. Now, he stood in a trance, the sea’s waters rolling back and forth over his feet. The memories of all he had done—the voyage, the battles, and the losses—came crashing over him. Each recollection distanced him further from where his heart truly lay. A tremendous feeling of guilt swept over him as he thought about the men who would not be returning home. The decade-long war had claimed many lives. Why had he been spared? Was it blind luck or merely the will of the gods?The land that stretched before him was now a desolate ruin, a stark contrast to the once magnificent city it had been. The grand walls, once towering and impregnable, now lay in crumbling heaps. The mighty gates, which had stood as a symbol of the city’s strength, were splintered and broken. Smoke still rose from the charred remains of homes and temples, a lingering testament to the fury of war. The scent of ash and blood mingled in the air, creating a somber reminder of the countless lives lost.Around him, the beach was alive with activity. Warriors, their armor battered and bloodstained, were making their preparations to depart. Ships, sturdy and weathered, lined the shore, their sails billowing in the gentle breeze. The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily overhead. The sun cast a warm, golden glow over the scene, a stark contrast to the sorrow and exhaustion etched into the faces of the departing men.Groups of soldiers gathered in clusters, sharing final words with comrades who had become like brothers. There was an air of solemnity and relief, a bittersweet mingling of emotions as they prepared to leave this accursed land behind. Jurnises watched as one warrior embraced another, their expressions a mix of joy and sorrow. He saw men tending to their wounds, their movements slow and deliberate, each gesture heavy with the weight of their experiences.Among the bustling activity on the beach, a somber procession of defeated warriors, now prisoners, made its way toward the waiting ships. The men, their bodies battered and broken, stumbled forward in heavy chains, their faces a mask of pain and resignation. Each step they took was accompanied by the clinking of metal, a cruel reminder of their enslavement. The victors, their expressions cold and indifferent, prodded the prisoners forward with the blunt ends of their spears. These once-proud warriors knew all too well the fate that awaited them. Stripped of their dignity, they would soon be mutilated—turned into eunuchs, their tongues cut out, and sold to serve the whims of others for the rest of their miserable lives. The women, equally bruised and beaten, walked with heads bowed, their eyes hollow with despair. They were destined for the brothels of the victorious kingdoms, where their suffering would only continue. As they were herded onto the ships, the salty air carried their silent cries of anguish, merging with the mournful sound of the waves, a stark contrast to the beautiful, partly cloudy sky overhead.The voyage home promised to be arduous, fraught with unpredictable and terrible dangers. The Great Sea was notorious for its monstrous storms, which had swallowed entire fleets, and for the vile creatures lurking in its depths, some capable of dragging entire ships to the bottom of the sea. Jurnises wasn’t concerned with any of this; his mind was instead consumed by waves of guilt. The gains from his conquest could never replace what he had lost, and he had lost much. He took one last, lingering look at the land he had fought for over so many years, then broke from his trance and turned to board the ship.As he walked towards his vessel, Jurnises noticed more details that tugged at his heart. Children, now orphans, wandered through the ruins, their eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. Women, their faces lined with grief, tended to the wounded and gathered what few possessions remained. The city’s once-vibrant markets and bustling streets were now silent, the echoes of laughter and commerce replaced by the mournful cries of the survivors.Jurnises's ship, the Odyssea, stood ready to depart, its timbers creaking under the weight of supplies and men. The crew, though weary, moved with a sense of purpose. They had survived the horrors of war and now looked forward to returning to their families and homes. Jurnises thought of his beautiful wife, the one he had left behind in a distant land. He struggled desperately to bring her image back to his mind as another wave of guilt washed over him. It had been so long since he last saw his beloved wife that her face had faded from his memory.As he stood on the cold, damp sand, the gentle wash of the waves seemed to mock his efforts to conjure her once-vivid image. His wife, with her soft, sun-kissed hair that cascaded in gentle waves, much like the shore's embrace of the sea, was a vision that had once been etched into the forefront of his mind. Her eyes, a clear, expressive hazel, mirrored the warmth and clarity of a serene sky, not unlike the one he gazed upon now. They sparkled with kindness and intelligence, qualities that had initially drawn him to her, creating a sense of home and comfort he now craved more than ever.The guilt of leaving her to fend for herself, to live a life punctuated by the silent pauses of his absence, gnawed at him. Each day that had passed in the relentless tick of wartime seconds had pulled her image further and further away from his grasp. Now, attempting to recall her features was like trying to catch fog—every detail slipping between his fingers the harder he tried to hold on. He remembered her smile, though not as clearly as he wished; it was the kind of smile that could light up the darkest days, warm and inviting. Yet now, that smile flickered in his memory like a candle in the wind, its constancy challenged by time and distance.More than just her looks, it was the essence of her presence he missed profoundly—a presence that had made their home an enclave of peace in a world that now seemed entirely governed by chaos. He recalled the soft cadence of her voice, a soothing melody that had often lulled him to sleep, and the gentle touch of her hand, a touch that had promised everything would be alright. Now, all that remained was the echo of her laughter in his heart and the fading contours of her face in his mind.The reality that years of war had scrubbed away the fine details of her visage brought a fresh wave of sorrow. Jurnises knew that the woman who had bid him farewell with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart had become a ghost of memory. The pain of this thought was sharp, a reminder of the personal cost of his survival and the sacrifices made in the name of duty. The bitterness of surviving when so many had not, the weight of witnessing his comrades fall—these were burdens he carried, but none so heavy as the fear that he might return to a wife who had become a stranger, or worse, who might no longer see him as the man she once loved.The voyage home promised to be arduous, fraught with unpredictable and terrible dangers. The Great Sea was notorious for its monstrous storms, which had swallowed entire fleets, and for the vile creatures lurking in its depths, some capable of dragging entire ships to the bottom of the sea. Jurnises wasn’t concerned with any of this; his mind was instead consumed by waves of guilt. The gains from his conquest could never replace what he had lost and he had lost much. He took one last, lingering look at the land he had fought for over so many years, then broke from his trance and turned to board the ship.

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