Holds memory firm within its rays.
Without its arc, your mind will stray,
Each hour lost, each thought decay.
To find your way, to face the Trial,
Retrace your steps, each inch, each mile.
Shadows lengthen, east to west,
A mirrored path may serve you best.
“Guess I’ll be expecting a thank you after all,” Rancour breathes under his nose. And then, like even in a moment like this he remembers the rest of our crew, he adds, “Guess that clueless bard was onto something. Said this thing was made to catch the sunlight just right.”
A bitter laugh works its way up my throat. Just great—Vinicola or Gypsy isn’t even here, but somehow one of them managed to crack this puzzle before us.
What the hell…?
I read the clue again, turning it over in my mind, trying to fit the pieces together. Then I catch myself staring at Rancour, my thoughts twisting in ways I don’t care to name.
But Rancour? He’s too busy, circling around the pillar like a dog on a scent. A second later, he’s reaching for something behind it
“What is it?” I ask, stepping up to the pillar myself.
And there, on the other side, a thin gouge has appeared out of nowhere. In it lies an object, gleaming like it fell from the stars themselves. A massive fish scale, razor-edged and just big enough to fill a hand. The surface shimmers, a mix of violet, turquoise, silver—all the colors shifting with the light, like they’re alive, twisting and turning in brilliant shades of orange and green.
It’s breathtaking. And very clearly not of this world.
Rancour lifts it, and as the sunlight hits it full-on, the scale throws a ring of light around us—a blinding, rainbow halo.
“Fuck, keep that thing out of my eyes, will you?” I snap, squinting as Rancour shifts it around. The damn halo twists, scattering shimmering patterns across the ground. Doesn’t look much like the sun’s gift to me—more like something caught between sun and moon, a piece of both worlds stitched together.
Fabien voices what I’m already thinking. “Captain and the bard will probably have to retrieve the same thing from the other island.”
No disagreement here.
But that leaves us with a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?
“Now, if we could just figure out how to haul ourselves back to the ship,” I say, casting a glance skyward. Because the real madness here isn’t in fetching some mystery trinket we never even knew existed. No, it’s that even with the bloody thing in our hands, we’re still caught in this game. Still being tested, just like that damn clue warned us:The sun keeps the memory in its rays. Without it, our minds go astray. For each hour we lost, our thoughts decayed. And, hell, it’s been true every step of the way.
“Aye,” Rancour mutters under his breath.
“Retrace our steps, huh?” I ask, catching his eye. He nods, though he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than backtracking through this nightmare. Can’t say I blame him.
“Alright then,” I grin, though it’s half-hearted. “Let’s get moving, mate. This island’s not going to lead us back.”
So back we go, every cursed step dragging us deeper into the island’s hellish grip. I’d love to say it’s easy, that we waltz right through without a hitch. But that? That’d be a lie. Just getting back to the skiff feels like a feat meant for the gods. And then, just when I think we’ve wrestled with enough demons for one day…
“So we’re here,” Fabien says, voice edged with irritation. “Now what? Skiff still won’t get us past the fog. We’ve tried, damn it. Just doesn’t. Pass. Through.”
I stare at him, the weight of it all pressing down like a stone in my gut. “Then, mate,” I say, my voice grim, “we’ve got ourselves one hell of a problem.”
“Think, Cagney!” he bellows, veins straining. “Fucking think! What’s it gonna take? What the hell does that bitch want from us?”
I just chuckle, low and dry, and sink down onto the burning sands, squinting up at the relentless sun. It’s so damn hot it feels like breathing fire—like death would be a mercy if it meant not having to drag my chest up and down with each breath.
How long have we been roasting here already? Damn if I know.
