Eternal Restraint

I see the why of it now. In the morning, the men returned… their bodies still bound in the light of dawn. Aeternum granted them new life, for the Captain to once again snuff out. Yet I knew this was not the Captain who conceived of this. I thought again of the Heretic, weaving the ropes in his tent, and now knowing the truth of the evil his hands wrought. He had known this would happen. He had always known. He had woven some of his evil into those ropes, enough to damn the crewmen they would someday bind. If the isle lends its voice to evil, it is that horrid figure, hunched in the dark. Though leashed like a dog and wearing irons upon his feet, he acts at the isle's behest. He is its servant. As the Captain is his. R. Velazquez