As the hazy light filtered through the trees, I saw a man sitting on a boat.

He did not appear to be of our people, his clothing and demeanour indicating a different kind of origin.

Their boat drifts this way.

We arise from our hiding spots and prepare to confront them. We don’t receive uninvited guests kindly, and we certainly didn’t invite whoever this is.

The man gazes at us under the brim of their pointy hat.

Interesting. They exhibit no external fear but a strange feeling of calm.

The man says something in a language I do not understand.

To the surprise of my people and greater surprise to myself, one of us responds in their tongue.

We all turn to see who replied.

“Terseus?”

He doesn’t break his gaze with the man, and says another sentence in their language.

Then he turns to us, takes a breath, and shatters our world.

“The man said to me,

he is my father.”