Prologue

I found myself mysteriously standing at the deck of a wooden ship, the sea stretched out before me, a wide expanse of unknown.

I tried to remember as to why I am here, but everything seems to be so hazy and I could get no answer from it, no matter how hard I try.

The sudden roaring thunder in the sky quickly caught my attention, I look up and saw the sky as it raged with storm clouds, their intense ashen hues spiraling ominously.

And then, in an unexpected surge, an intense impact that struck me like a heavy blow, the wind surged with uncontrollable force, pushing down on me with an almost solid intensity, I struggled to maintain my balance against nature's unwavering embrace.

The heavy rain then fell upon me, each droplet of rainwater a weighty reminder of the storm's force, I could also sense the briny tang in the air, the unmistakable taste of salt carried on the wind.

Then voices, a lot of them, I turn towards the noise and I saw chaos, men frantically running around as they tried to keep the ship stable under the intense storm assault.

And then I saw him, amidst the chaos, a figure stood out in the crowd of crew members, a man whose presence seemed to emanate strength and determination, there was also a certain glow from him, a glow I couldn't seem to describe nor put any words on it.

He was at the helm, hands firmly gripping at the wheel, guiding the ship through the violent waters. His eyes were locked on the horizon, fixated and determined, a beacon of leadership in the midst of a storm.

His voice carried over the raging wind, guiding and leading his crew with a commanding tone, crew members rushed to secure lines, adjust sails, and battle the raging elements. The vessel creaked and rocked as it navigated the dangerous waves.

Rainwater soaked the man's clothing, yet he stood firm, a symbol of determination against the chaos. He was a captain in control, his authority unquestionable, his resolve unbreakable, he was a figure to be looked up to, a source of strength for his crew in their darkest hour, steering his vessel through the jaws of danger with skill and resilience.

Then he suddenly turned his head and our eyes met, and just like that, everything seems to fade, leaving me in the darkness.

I was suddenly jostled awake by the beeping sound of my alarm clock at the side of my bed, its piercing noise adding to the bricks of annoyance building up inside of me.

And then, I remembered that scene, what was that?

A dream?

But everything seems so real, it was like I was actually there in the ship... with the man.

Yes I remember, that man; who was he?

And why does it feel like he was so important to me? like there's some kind of connection between us.

I guess it's going to be a question that would be left unanswered for a while.

My eyes then widen as I also remember something.

Oh right.. it's Monday, it's already common knowledge what Monday always entails; the start of the weeks classes, no wonder Monday's my most hatest and feared day.

Luckily, the alarm clock was within arm's reach and I was able to end the noise this morning monstrosity was producing with a swift tap of mine.

As silence shroud my entire room, I blankly stare at the ceiling above, the sleep inertia inside of me seemingly overcoming my will to get out of the bed, though my brain is already shouting at me the consequences of my actions were I still to continue to do nothing.

With a sigh, I finally sat up, giving me a full view of the interior of my room.

It's a moderate one, it's neither too small nor too big, it's a sight one would expect from a son born from an average family, a computer desk in the corner, a wardrobe here, some drawers and table there, and the few posters and picture frames hanging and scattered across the walls of the room.

As average as it seems, my opinion seems to think otherwise.

We've been through the whole money struggle thing, just like everyone else. Maybe a little more often, actually. We're dealing with some pretty hefty debt right now. But here's the good thing, despite all that, my family somehow kept our home life stable and made sure I got a decent education.

A smile slowly formed on my lips.

I couldn't have asked for more...

With a deep breath, I began to make my way towards the door leading to the bathroom.

Best to wash myself up before heading outside.

With a twist of the knob, I pulled the door open and quickly stepped inside. It didn't take long for me to find myself face to face with my reflection in the mirror. Hair's a bit of a mess, black and tousled since I've just rolled out of bed. Dark, intense eyes give me that 'still waking up' look. There's that little mole above my lip, nothing fancy.

Skin's got a bit of a healthy glow, I guess that's normal for the morning. Slender build, standing there all relaxed. At an average height, I'm not towering over anyone, but I've got a comfortable presence. My face? Well, it's just an ordinary face, not strikingly handsome but not too shabby either.

I grinned, a dimple appearing as I do. Yeah, that's me in the mirror. Just another morning, just another look.

Without a moment's hesitation, I entered the shower enclosure, wasting no time as I began to cleanse myself for the day ahead. In a mere 5 minutes, I emerged feeling more presentable and refreshed.

Feeling positive, I now stand in my bedroom once again, facing the wardrobe. The task at hand: selecting my attire for the day ahead.

As I scanned my wardrobe, my fingers skimmed over hangers and fabrics, each choice representing a potential look for the day. I spent a few minutes deliberating, considering colors and styles, trying to match the mood I was in.

There it was, my red sweater, soft and cozy, hanging right next to a line of other options. I pulled it out, feeling the fabric between my fingers. It was not a bad choice, my gaze then shifted to the pants section, and my fingers danced along the array of options. Black pants would work, I like it's simpleness.

With my outfit almost complete, my eyes darted down to my sneaker collection. I reached for the pair of white sneakers, their clean and crisp appearance matching the fresh outlook I felt today.

With the clothes chosen, I laid them out on my bed, satisfied with the combination I'd pieced together. My red sweater, black pants, and white sneakers, not to mention my gray backpack sitting besides the bed, —a blend of comfort, simple style, and readiness to face the day ahead.

After putting them on, I make my way to another door that leads outside my bedroom. Twisting the knob, I pull the door open and step outside.

The interior of our home was a testament to generations past, its walls adorned with picture frames that told the story of our family's unyielding commitment to service. Medals earned by my ancestors shone from their rightful place, a display of honor and valor that stretched back through time.

Among the medals was the recognition earned by my ancestor, the seemingly mysterious founder of our family and the sole survivor of a shipwreck who joined the ranks of the revolutionaries. Decisive battles bore the marks of his determination, and his bravery elevated him to the rank of major.

Though I sometimes find myself asking my mother and father about the true origin of our family's founder, alas, they could only shrug their shoulders and offer me vague answers. The uncertainty is evident in their eyes.

'Father said he was some sort of a traveler.' I remembered my dad saying once.

"Father said he was some sort of a traveler." I repeated, his voice echoing in my mind like a cherished refrain.

The memory brought a bittersweet smile to my lips as I recalled the countless times my father had recounted stories and tales of his father and his father before him. Those tales had shaped my understanding of our family's legacy, intertwining with my longing to know more about our mysterious origins.

But then, as if the memory were a cruel jest, a different recollection swept in, the day news reached our doorstep that forever changed our lives. I can still feel the heaviness that settled over our home, the air suffocating with the weight of tragedy.

My mother's eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale as she held the letter that bore the seal of authority. A letter no one ever wants to receive. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached her, fear and dread tightening their grip.

She turned towards me, her gaze locking onto mine, and I could read the pain in her eyes—the anguish of a wife who had lost her partner, the agony of a woman forced to bear the unbearable news.

My hands shook as I reached out for the letter, the words dancing before my eyes. "In memory of your father," the letter began, and though the words were eloquent, they couldn't soften the blow they delivered.

I crumpled the paper in my hand, my fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. This couldn't be real, I thought. Not my father, the man whose stories had ignited my imagination, the man who had laughed with me, guided me, and shared his wisdom.

My mother's arms enveloped me, pulling me into an embrace that offered little solace against the gaping void left behind. We clung to each other, two souls united in grief, finding strength in shared pain.

I swiftly pushed the unwelcome memories aside, a determined effort to fend off the torrent of emotions threatening to spill over. The weight of sadness and grief pressed upon my chest like an unyielding anvil on a soft paper.

Not now...

The cadence of history continued as my great-grandfather took up arms in the Civil War, serving on the Union side. He was a non-commissioned officer who stood strong in the face of adversity, his medals a testament to his courage amidst the fire and smoke of battle.

Through the lineage, my forebears contributed to the lineage of warriors—participating in conflicts such as the Indian and Cherokee Wars, the Mexican War, the Spanish-American War, and the Philippine-American War.

World war one and two saw my family's continued service. They bore the weight of medals earned on the battlefields of Europe and the Pacific, their courage immortalized in the Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts that adorned our home.

As I passed through the hallway, the scent of a delicious breakfast reached my nose, pulling me towards the inviting warmth of the kitchen. There, my mother was at the stove, tending to the morning meal.

Can't wait to eat breakfast.

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CHAPTER DONE!!