The Shapes (volume 1)

In his nightmares the shapes became terribly clear. He was able to see deep beneath the trappings of the blackness and peer deep into the shadow of his tormentor. It was dim and dark but he could see the faces in the room. Five tall figures loomed over him and he felt powerless. It was like he wanted to scream, to get out of the room in which he saw himself, his body laying before him.

In their faces burned keen and merciless eyes.

The tallest stepped forward. His cold eyes glittered pure evil that blitzed through the darkness. It was just a dream but his heart sank. A flashback to a forgotten time. A lost ship. A dead crew. Full of torment. Full of fear. 

The black figure raised his hand high above his head. Brilliant-white light now filled the room, burning at his eyes as the four remaining figures stood with heads bowed. As he squinted he could make out the distinct lettering on the black jacket sleeves.

HHAWK.

The blade of the hatchet glinted angrily, further blinding and paralysing.

There was a sickening thud. 

He woke with a jolt in his bed of cold sweat. 

Uncomfortable. 

The shapes. 

MB.