Lachrymore: Shore of Secrets

"Oftentimes, the darkness around us is the product of the darkness within. Though we may interpret our reality as a prison, this truth need not stand. We find through the reclamation of our hearts, that the shackles binding us were nothing more than fabrications. So will you falter to oblivion? Or will you stare it in the face with a smile until it kneels to the light of your soul?"

That fateful night, the only guiding light were the stars above, dotting our course through the often- treacherous waters of a vast and endless ocean. We had been sailing for about a week and had anticipated we would make landfall in 4 days time. One of the deckhands, Killian, was inspecting the ties on our cargo. Occasionally I would see him fiddle with one of the knots and mutter profanities about incompetent youth. Killian was a well seasoned sailor who had spent many of his years at sea, taking on numerous, arduous jobs. It seemed that the volatile nature of the great blue had taken its toll on him. I was no stranger to sailing myself, but I compared a mere novice to this man's accolades. I remember him telling me once that he single-handedly streered a vessel out of a great whirlpool as his entire crew had been incapacitated by the violent nature of the anomaly. There was always a degree of pomp to the tales he would share. I would often find myself pondering the authenticity of his claims, but nonetheless was well-aware of his experience on the open ocean, so I never questioned it. As he prattled on about the aloof youngsters who handled our cargo, I noticed that another crew member was analyzing the path to our destination. Roane Hargraves was our navigator. His eyes ever- affixed to the skies, Hargraves had a particular penchant for the cosmos. He would commonly educate us on the properties of stars and the boundless meanings behind the constellations. I never quite understood what he meant, but I was happy to hear something other than Killian's questionable conquests. A chilling breeze swept over the hull of the ship as the familiar creaking of wood cascaded around us.

"Somethin's comin'", Killian said gravely.

The tone of his voice shook me a little. I could smell the petrichor through the salt of the sea. He was right. A storm was brewing and it wasn't too far off. It wouldn't take long for the stars to be drowned out by a heavy blanket of Cumulonimbus.

Normally I wouldn't be phased by a weather phenomenon, as most of the time I would have already made land or at least had been close to it. I hadn't given much thought to the sheer distance we were traveling. Just over 3,000 miles. This had entirely eclipsed any distance I had traveled. I was shocked at the thought and surprised I had not pondered the sheer distance we were traveling. We were delivering a rather sizable load of herbs and spices across the ocean to an allied nation, and I had taken the job as the pay surpassed that of many of my previous ventures. I had pondered the severity of the oncoming storm as the first of several raindrops brushed my cheek.

"What do you see, Hargraves?", I asked with an anxious hint.

Roane turned his spyglass eastward... then westward...

"Hard to say, Kline. It's pitch black."

"My God, yer a genius, Hargraves", Killian stated sarcastically, grinning showing a pair of golden teeth.

A blinding flash of lightning illuminated our surroundings for but a second. Oddly, no thunder followed.

"The center of that storm must be far off, still", Killian said as the wind grew a little stronger.

I was inclined to agree. I knew that on the ocean, you wouldn't hear thunder until the storm was incredibly close by. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was slowly crawling up my chest. Something wasn't right. As the rain grew more intense, and the waves swelled to a tremendous degree, lightning strikes increased in frequency, yet still, no thunder. The winds had whipped up into a gale, making the ship near impossible to control. Our wheelman had already called for aid. Two more men joined him in an attempt to keep the vessel on course. As I hurried to tie myself down, I witnessed a bolt of lightning just off starboard. Expecting the explosive rumble of thunder to immediately follow, but once again was misled. I could hear Killian yelling at a couple deckhands to secure the sails, but upon their approach to the winches, were thrown overboard. He turned to the wheelman and shouted.

"We ain't gunna make it through this! Sails are givin' in!"

Hargraves came bounding towards the back of the ship shouting at Killian

"We don't have any other choice! Either we press forward or we sink!"

Killian then turned his attention to me.

"Ashton, give us a hand here would ya?!"

I immediately jumped into action and barrelled towards them. The ship was throwing me all around. Just getting to them was an endeavor, but I eventually reached them and saw that Hargraves was pointing towards the shrouds. I  could see that a couple had come loose leaving the masts tossing in the wind.

"Think you can cinch those back up?"  

"I can try!" I replied, not totally confident in my abilities during such a crisis. I knew I had to try. I began trying to climb the ratlines that had also become loose in the ordeal. As I reached the loose ends, I found I couldn't tighten them back up enough to where they'd hold. I however found that if I could use my weight and hang off them slightly, I could keep the mast up to some degree. It was obviously not much, but it was marginally more stable than before. This seemed to be enough to regain control of the ship. And almost by divine intervention, I felt the winds wane. We were coming out of the most intense part of the storm. Just as quickly as the silent tempest had come, it had gone. The rain still fell, but the waters had calmed themselves. I could hear various members of the crew cheering. I released the shroud lines and somberly climbed down. Two men had been thrown overboard. lost to the unforgiving fury of that storm... and people were... fucking cheering? I laid down on the deck, paralyzed by the adrenaline forcing its way through me.

"Holy shit, Kline, you are crazy!" I heard Hargraves say

"See that, Hargraves? Now THAT'S a genius!", Killian bellowed.

As everything settled, I could once again see the stars above. At that moment I could see why Hargraves was such a fanatic. Seeing the stars had become my new favorite thing.

"You think we're in the clear?" The wheelman asked.

"Not sure, we are still aways from land", Hargraves replied. " Maybe we can-"

Immediately there was the thunderous sound of snapping wood. I was thrown to the front of the ship. I careened over the rail and into the cold depths. My vision was blurry. I was fading out as the frigid water sent my body into shock. I quickly scrambled over to a sizable piece of wood and with the last of my strength, managed to clamber onto it. As my breathing slowed, and my eyes grew heavy, I was sure that I wasn't waking up. As my vision faded one final thought crossed my mind as I caught a final glimpse of the night sky.

"God I love the stars".

I awoke still, and face-down. The damp wood of my derelict life raft pressed hard into my face. The smell of salt water lingering heavily in my nostrils. I reached my arms above my head to hang them off the sides. I was immediately gripped with a feeling of shock and discombobulation. What I was feeling over either side of my driftwood savior was not water. In fact it wasn't even wet. As I ran my hands across the mysterious substance, my head shot up in amazement. I was running my fingers through sand. I began cackling like a mad man, as I lifted the grains into the air and let it flow through my fingers in a cascade. I dropped once again onto the raft with a huge grin painted on my face. I was so lost in this euphoric feeling, likely caused by dehydration that I barely noticed the frigid wind rushing over my body. As I rolled over to look ahead I could see what looked like snow on the embankment separating the beach I was washed upon and whatever lied beyond. I was puzzled as to why there would be snow here in the dead of summer. The crisp air nipping at my skin felt off. As though I was being warned about something. I cast a glance backwards toward the now- calm ocean. Where did the ship end up? Killian? Roane? I had pondered whether they met their demise at the hands of the cruel waters, or had made it ashore with me. Looking back towards the darkness beyond the embankment, I wondered if it was worth trekking ahead, or if my chances fared better staying on the beach. Just as I was about to get to my feet, I saw a peculiar light meandering through the treeline. The way it moved told me that it was a person. Perhaps a member of the crew had got here before I did. After all, I had no idea how long I was out for, on the aimless driftwood prior. As the light grew closer, I could barely make out the visage of a man. I could see that he wore a rather long, unkempt beard, unlike anyone I knew on the crew. Furthermore, he appeared to be donning a robe, the likes of which I had never seen. It was clear to me that this man was a stranger. I stood frozen. I didn't exactly have a means of escape. Like a frightened deer I awaited the headlights ominously approaching me. He stopped at the embankment and seemed to fix his gaze on me for a prolonged period before calling out.

"Are you alright?!", he shouted.

A level of relief finally overcame me, as if his words cut the insurmountable tension that had held me in place. Before I could force out an answer, I spotted several more lights swelling through the trees. Was there... a village of people here? As their faces began appearing, I could see that there were at least twenty people staring back at me. The first man who had appeared climbed down and made his way towards me. 

"You're looking a little worse for wear, my friend", he said calmly. Once again my vision faded and all had gone black once again.

When consciousness once again greeted me, I was no longer on the beach, but instead laid up on an old wood bench. A dingy, old blanket covered me, and what appeared to be a great many crumpled burlap sacks sat under my head. The fabric was itchy and unpleasant on my head, yet I found myself grateful to be out of the cold wind and inside four walls. The enclosure I was in appeared to be some sort of storage shed for old broken tools and other various miscellany. I could see canned goods stacked with no particular system, some of which possessed labels that pre-dated my knowledge. How long had they been here? Surely I must have made land at our vessel's destination, or at least an island close by. I knew I had to find someone and ask them where I had ended up and whether or not they had seen any other members of my crew. But wait...

We hadn't been expected to make landfall for four more days. We hadn't anticipated land for quite some time. I contemplated the length of time I had been floating at sea. There is no way I would have been out long enough to have ended up on land. Surely I would have woken up long before that possibility had occurred. Regardless, I knew that I must at least make an attempt to locate Killian, Hargraves, and any one else who may have made landfall. I clumsily shifted my legs over the precarious burlap sacks and over the edge of them. I managed to stand and stumble my way to the door. I could hear the whistling of winter's wind on the other side, eagerly awaiting a chance to gnash my face. I spun around in search of something to cover up with. I was still a degree damp from my watery journey over. Next to my make-shift bed, was a neatly folded pile of crude looking clothes. Someone must have patched them together themselves. Among the pile, was a thick shirt. I threw it on and noticed that it was itchier than the burlap that I was earlier laid upon. 

At the very least, it offered warmth as I made my way back to the door of the shack. With more bravado this time, I swung the door open confidently. Through the snowfall, I could make out a fire with a few people posted up next to it. Perhaps there was a chance that Killian and Hargraves made it here as well. I shuffled over to the blaze awkwardly in hopes I could spot my compatriots without being seen. As I approached, I could make out several faces, none of which belonged to the ones I sought out. As gaze after gaze affixed to me, I couldn't help but to tally a sense of tension. I was frozen, not by the tundra winds, but by fear. Generally, I was confident in new groups, however this time, something felt off. As I mustered up the courage to look around, I was able to pick out a face I did recognize. The man who spoke with me at the shore before I blacked out.

"There's the catch of the day!", he shouted in jest. His playful jab garnered no laughter however. He seemingly hadn't taken notice and just continued.

"Glad to see you're up and well! Gave us quite a scare when you washed up."

I was able to return the conversation, but it was scrambled.

"Crew. W-where's my crew?" I asked. The man looked at me, puzzled.

"No one else arrived with you, I'm afraid", he replied earnestly.

My heart sank immediately. If the crew wasn't on the island, then they must have...

I cut the thought short. I did not want to imagine the worst case scenarios. Not until I had some answers.

"Where am I?" I inquired.

I could hear the faint murmurs of the other folks as they talked about me. The man from the beach tilted his head slightly.

"This is Lachrymore. It's not much... but it's home for us."

With these words, he appeared to be trailing off, as though he were losing focus. This was perplexing. First off, I had never heard of a place called 'Lachrymore' before, and secondly, I felt as though he were being disingenuous with his claims. He immediately flipped the subject and led into introductions.

"My name is Kerrigan. David Kerrigan. I do my best to er, keep morale boosted around here. That guy back there stirring the pot, is Taliel Hawthorne. Best cook in all of Lachrymore!"

The man, Taliel piped up and retorted.

"You mean the ONLY cook?"

This utterance bred some chuckling from the group, bringing my guard down a little.

 As the smoke from the fire lapped at my face, I pondered the fates of my colleagues once again,wondering if they would ever feel the bite of the frigid winter air again, or feel the silky sands of a beach ever again. I could picture Killian drowning in a bottle of Whiskey, remarking on the heat of the sun or some mundane anecdote about his trips at sea.

The gentleman before me, Kerrigan, seemed in stark contrast to our crew's gruff capitan, yet bore a modicum of resemblance to him. The same weathered visage, the same unkempt hair. Just a softer disposition. My mind told me I could trust this man. Whether it was a fool's thought, or a desperate need for belonging, I had released my inhibitions, and joined the group. Taliel served me a bowl of stew. Potatoes, carrots, and beef floated around in the soupy dish. I hadn't realized how famished I had been. God, how long had it been since I had last eaten. A primal, ravenous urge overcame me as the smell of the stew hit my nostrils, like a shark to blood. I began heaping the concoction into my mouth rapidly. I hardly had any time to savor it, with nary a thought of the food situation in this peculiar place. Within seconds, I had finished, and upon looking up, I could see that all eyes were on me. One woman gawked, wide- eyed with her spoon, frozen inches from her mouth. Kerrigan let out a boisterous cackle.

“Oh, that never gets old!” He shouted through his jovial fit. 

“Kinue, I remember the first time you ate with us! You gobbled up all the stew and left none for Taliel!”

As his laughter continued, the woman who had been staring at me became rather flush with embarrassment.

“Oh, come on. Have I embarrassed you? Imagine how our new friend must feel with you staring at him like that!”

The woman pursed her lips and offered Kerrigan a little side nod before directing her attention to me.

“My apologies for staring. It’s just that we haven’t seen a newcomer in quite some time”, she told me. 

“My name is Kinue Lockett, I run the apothecary around here. All things remedies, tinctures, tonics, and medicine. If you got an ailment, I’m your girl.”

I was surprised at Kinue’s quick change of expression. She had somehow moved from a disgusted wonderment, to completely opening up to a stranger. She was a beautiful young woman. Black hair, tied back so as not to obstruct her vision. Her eyes, though dark, pierced me. Scrutinizing every inch of my soul, as if she were trying to get a read on my moral compass. She spoke once again

“‘Course our supply is a little sparse at present. My business partner has been… away for quite some time, and finding ingredients in the wild on my own can prove quite arduous.” Her expression turned to one of excruciating worry. She had a rather animated face. Seamlessly alternating between various emotions. I could surmise that her business partner was someone rather important to her. The air grew stale with the silence between me and the group. The couple others who sat amongst them hadn’t spoken once since I showed up. Kerrigan gestured for me to sit down as the others present engaged in standard small talk. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the casual wear and tear of the day’s work, the frigid temperatures, and the changes needed in town. I was able to learn the names of the other two people present at this gathering. Drake Rawlings who saw to the construction of the few buildings around the area. Most of which looked rather crudely built. I couldn’t blame him. It didn’t look as though there was much in the way of building hardware around here. The other was a woman named Faehali Littenbach. She ran a local tavern that produced and sold various spirits. This was all rather intriguing. All seemed to be moving rather smoothly as laughter echoed around the fire. My thoughts began eating away at me once again. Like a famished insect, they drilled and bored their way to the forefront of my mind. The world around me began to quiet. The voices faded, the crunching of snow beneath boots all but silenced. The deafening reality I had finally grown privy to. The gnawing questions presented themselves. Each quicker than the last:

“Has no one tried to leave?” 

…

“How long have they been here?” 

…

“Why have they been simulating a normal life”

…

“Am I stuck here?”

“For how long?”

I could feel the quickening of my heartbeat as these questions careened off the walls of my skull, just aching to escape and find the answers they so desperately desired. Much like the little prisoners trapped in my head, I too felt a sense of captivity.

“Is everything alright, new blood?” Kerrigan asked.

I stumbled over my vernacular but managed a strained sentence.

“I- I h-have questions”, I replied.

His face grew solemn as the light of the flames flickered over the lines of his aging face. 

“Aye, I figured ya might”, he said with a cold melancholy. 

“I’ve gotta warn you, you might not like what you are about to hear.”

My heart sank. My worst fears had become manifest. I nearly needed not ask the questions as Kerrigan’s disposition essentially gave away the answers. With every fiber of my being, I had hoped he would be spinning an intricate farce. A dark campfire tale to stir the imagination and bring the creatures of the night to life. Alas, this was not his candor. This wasn’t some fairytale folklore. As I asked him the questions I had been asking myself, the group had gone silent. As if they were never there. Kerrigan had grown stoic. Almost numb sounding. Though the horror that was unfolding in his revelations, I could glean a sense of concern for my well-being. As he spoke, the only other sound I could pick out was the crackling of the now-dying fire. 

“Lachrymore is… unique. You see many of us have, of course, sought rescue, however this has been to no avail. The island has no designation so to speak. Just as soon as rescue comes, she disappears without a trace. I, myself, have been here for 39 years. I was merely a child when I arrived. I hate to be the one to bear the news to you, but I’m afraid, as it stands, Lachrymore is your new home.”

I could tell that his delivery was meticulous, yet mindful. As if he had rehearsed, and performed it many-a-time. As I let his response soak into every nook and cranny that my brain had to offer, a surprising sense of calm washed over me. It took me aback. Perhaps the shock was just too much to comprehend. I figured I could use this presumed shock to approach the situation with a level head before the hypothesized breakdown occurred. I calmly asked a follow-up question.

“When you say, no designation, you mean…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence as I was still grasping for a sense of reality. Kerrigan was able to pick up the gist of my inquiry.

“There is nowhere in this world that Lachrymore exists, yet it exists everywhere. There are nights that the sky will appear foreign, as though it were not of this world.”

I pressed further.

“Meaning?”

Faehali spoke up to expand on Kerrigan’s statements.

“Meaning that we are uncertain that the island even remains on this world.” 

To any sane mind, this would have sounded like the ravings of a lunatic, yet given the circumstances, and likely due to the shock I was under, I tried to look at my predicament in a more rational light. Perhaps this land mass wasn’t bound to any known laws of physics. Not that I could lend myself any meaningful explanation, I elected to make sense of the situation.

“So we are on a nomadic island that changes its geographical location at its own will?” I guessed.

“That is about the long and short of it”, Kerrigan responded. “You are taking this a lot better than I anticipated”.

“Definitely the shock”, Drake interjected.

“So are you all that’s here?” I asked.

“Oh heavens, no”, said Kerrigan. “There are a fair few that live on the island. Our little settlement houses about half of the population here. As you can imagine, newcomers aren’t a very common occurrence. The ones living here are of good nature, and I imagine the Acolytes of Shah aren’t as cryptic as they seem. Given the chance I’m sure they’d be willing to aid another, but…”

As he trailed off, I could tell that he had some misgivings about these ‘Acolytes of Shah’. From what I could gather, they were another group occupying the island. Further explanation from Kerrigan revealed that they were a convent of devout worshippers. Many in the group expressed distrust towards them as their motives were cast behind a veil of mystery. No one in the party had any inkling as to who the Acolytes actually worshiped. Kerrigan admitted that his group generally kept their distance from the congregation, and just wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. Especially seeing as they had not posed any threat to Kerrigan and his group. I could see that Kerrigan was the type of man that aimed to see the good in everyone. It was admirable, but I knew that to a degree, it was also foolish. Kerrigan approached me and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder as he wore a confident half-grin. 

“I know it’ll take a while, but you’ll adjust just fine. We’ve spent a great deal of time making this place feel as much like home as possible. The shops are pleasantries, just to keep us on the level. You will owe nothing. We trade our services here.”

I knew this experience would be jarring at the very least for the unforeseeable future. At the very least I felt that I was surrounded with people that I could learn to trust.

From behind Kerrigan in the icy bellow of the winter night, I could make out a shape slowly approaching the fire. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, but it looked human. It was rather short, and moved rather hauntingly. As it encroached on the firelight, recently revitalized by Taliel, I could see it was a woman. She appeared rather gaunt and pale-looking. Her appearance was a mite unsettling. She looked emaciated, as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets. The camp went quiet. The others looked on in disbelief. Kerrigan looked at the girl as though they had known each other for years.

“Risa? It’s good to see you dear. It’s been a while. Almost three months if I’m not mistaken. How are you feeling?”

The girl did not respond. She looked around the fire, unblinking until her eyes stopped on me. A sickly feeling welled up within my body, as her gaze remained transfixed on me. She tilted her head to the side as though to show curiosity.

Kerrigan ran to her side and ushered her towards the firelight. She was incredibly skinny. The bones of her face, flush tight to her cheeks.

“You must be hungry my dear”, Kerrigan probed. As he got within a foot of the fire, the woman let out a shrill scream. She violently pulled herself from Kerrigan’s grasp and bolted back into the Stygian night. Oddly, the smell of vinegar permeated the air. No one had made mention of this, so I had kept it quiet. I thought it perhaps rude to bring up the woman's hygiene, considering she hadn’t visited with her peers for quite some time. 

“She must have been startled by the new face”, Taliel joked.

I let loose an uneasy chuckle before he continued

“Don’t let it get to you. We very rarely see Risa these days. Not since her father went missing”.

Taliel’s statement brought a whole new mess of questions to my mind. This was the second mention of a missing person from their ilk. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to assume, but I felt that the Acolytes of Shah might not have been as docile as the group were making them out to be. Kerrigan explained to me that before he took up the mantle of keeping everyone together, the job fell upon the shoulders of Risa’s father. The now missing, Edward Gideon. In the short time I had been present on this island, I had come to several conclusions with several more questions brewing. What was this place? Why did those two go missing? It all seemed so convoluted and surreal to me. I gave myself grace and told myself that everything going on was apt to the situation. Something about Risa was throwing me off. Of course I understood that she could be in an especially intense state of grieving, but something told me there was more to her story than shutting herself away for 3 months. 

“You must be tired, young man. Come, I’ll show you to your quarters.”, Kerrigan said. I was feeling rather exhausted. Who knows how long I was out to sea, shipwrecked. I followed Kerrigan down a winding road. I could see the shops that dot the small hamlet that the group had built. The path he led me down connected onto a large property with a sizable dwelling on it. There was a well on-site, and what appeared to be long-ago tilled land. The place looked abandoned, as though it hadn’t been tended to in quite some time. Kerrigan walked me up to the dwelling, turned to me and smiled. 

“This is it! It ain’t much, but it should suit you. At the very least it’ll keep the cold out of your bones.”

He extended a friendly hand. I looked down at it and shook it with a small level of apprehension.

“I don’t believe I caught your name yet, young man” Kerrigan said.

“I-I’m sorry… It’s Ashton Kline”, I stammered.

“Not to worry Ashton! A transition such as this definitely takes some getting used to. I don’t hold it against you. Well get a good night’s rest. Come find me in the morning and we can sort out your designation.”

“Designation?” I quipped, with a hint of confusion. Kerrigan graciously elaborated.

“Oh right! I suppose you’d have no idea how we run things around here. Every person has a job to fulfill. It just keeps the place feeling like home. We need help in some fields as we are short-handed. If you wouldn’t mind lending your services, we could definitely use them.”

I understood the desire for normalcy and agreed to talk it over with Kerrigan in the morning. I entered the dwelling. It was in a state between derelict and lived-in. I wasn’t bothered too much considering the night’s events. I made my way to the bedroom where a rickety looking frame sat in wait for my tired bones. The musty smell of wet wood permeated into my nostrils. The dwelling was considerably warmer than I anticipated it to be. I climbed into the bead and with a loud creak, it settled. I drifted off to sleep almost immediately. 

I was awakened by the dense crunch of creaking wood. Likely a product of my tumultuous dream. I was once again in the storm that claimed our vessel. Killian and Roane were aboard but remained still, as if they had been unaffected by the battering wind and rain. I shouted out to them, but they remained motionless. The last thing I remember before waking up was the ship slamming into an unseen obstacle. Sunlight poured in from the dust-laden curtains. I rubbed my eyes and peered out the window. I had observed Roane telling the time many times using an old sailor’s method. I placed my fingers in front of me and deduced that the time was around 9 o’clock in the morning. I made my way to the front door and swung it open. The sunlight was piercing. It felt as though I had not seen it in ages. I smiled at its presence as if it were an old friend. Even with the snow on the ground, it felt as though it were spring. Making my way back to the fire pit, I could see the building structures a lot clearer now. I could see a number of people navigating the makeshift walkways between them. As I meandered around, I happened upon a strange building that looked a degree different than the others. The peeling paint on its placard emitted an ominous feeling. Labeled simply ‘The Phone’, it appeared out of place in this town of sorts. Peering in the window, I could see a black telephone resting on the table. There was nothing else inside, not even a light to speak of. 

“I see you have found the town legend”, a voice from behind me stated. I spun around and saw that it was Kerrigan. He wore his usual half-grin as he addressed me.

“What is it?”, I asked

“That, my new friend, is a question no one here can answer for you. It has been here since before construction of the shops.”

Yet another piece of curiosity whose understanding lay outside of my grasp. I gave Kerrigan a firm handshake as we immediately got to the order of my designation. He had informed me that there were a couple options. Either I could aid Drake with building detail, or I could continue to take up residence in the farmhouse I had just stayed in the night prior. He informed me that as the town herbalist, I could grow and gather ingredients for the apothecary, run by Kinue Lockett. I had some prior knowledge of botany from my earlier years of life. Tending to gardens with my mother, I picked up some tricks when it came to taking care of plant-life. Knowing I'd be as useful as water in a colander when it came to construction, I elected to undertake the responsibility of a herbalist. Kerrigan informed me to speak with Kinue when I had the chance, so we could collaborate on growing schedules. With a nod of his head, he ventured off into town. Before heading to Lind & Lockett, I had another pressing matter at the forefront of my brain. Risa Gideon. Her ghoulish arrival at last night’s gathering was all I could think about. I felt the need to check up on her. I puttered around town for a brief moment, to find someone I knew. I wanted to ask them where Risa lived. I saw Faehali sweeping the front of her tavern and made my way over. She greeted me with a smile.

“Good morning, Ashton. How was the first night?”

We briefly exchanged pleasantries before I zeroed in on my purpose for the visit.

“I was curious if you could tell me where Risa Gideon is residing?”

Faehali gave me a quizzical look before falling into a line of questioning.

“What could you need from Risa? Not much of a talker these days.”

I replied candidly.

“I was just worried about her. Figured I’d check up on her.”

Faehali pursed her lips disapprovingly before speaking again.

“We’ve all been through grief here, Ashton. It’s not proper to go stirring up the wounds.”

I assured her that I wasn’t engaging in an interview about her loss. Faehali reluctantly gave me directions to Risa’s dwelling.

“Don’t press too hard. The poor girl has been through a lot.” She finished.

“You have my word, Faehali. Quick wellness check then I will be on my way”

She looked me up and down before saying her final piece.

“Alright then. Call me Fae.”

With a small wave, I made my way towards Risa Gideon. Passing the fire pit, I smelled the familiar scent of vinegar once again. Had she been here recently? I pressed on moving south from the town. The snow had grown quite deep. This dismissed any chance of her being near town as there were no footprints leading away from it. I trudged for a seemingly endless period of time, before reaching a small structure surrounded by wooden barricades. I presumed that they were used to quell the tundratic winds, seeing as there were no nearby structures to defend the cozy little shack. I approached the door and gave it a hearty knock. I waited for a spell before trying again.

“Risa?!” I shouted. “I-it’s Ashton. I’m new here, and I realize we were never properly introduced”

Silence.

Nary a whisper came from the lonely shack. Come to think of it, I couldn’t hear anything at all. It was the deadest calm I had ever experienced. I stood at the door until the frost bit at my toes. Nothing, and no one came to greet me. I figured I’d try again later, and made my way back to town. The time had come to speak with Kinue about my role as a herbalist. I couldn’t imagine there would be much work until the snow cleared up, but perhaps this island hid some secrets from me. I knew Kinue would be able to clear up any questions that I had pertaining to our arrangement. By the time I had arrived back to town, my breath had grown labored from the arduous walk. Looking behind me I could see long, streaming tracks, where I had been moving. I hunched over and placed my hands on my knees. I looked around for Kinue’s shop while I caught my breath. 

Many of the townsfolk stared as I walked towards Lind & Lockett. I figured many of them weren’t privy to my arrival just yet, and were taken aback to see a new face strolling through town so casually. I made my way into the shop, and was immediately greeted with a cacophony of smells. It was rather jarring to the senses, yet still had a pleasant note to it. Kinue walked around the corner from behind the desk.

“Ah, Mr. Kline! Kerrigan told me you’d be in today! So… You are taking over Darien’s post" she said.

“Good morning Kinue. I’m sorry, Darien? Who’s that?”

“He was the herbalist before you came along. Worked alongside me and Alistair for roughly ten years or so. That is until…”

I had put the pieces together real swiftly. Another missing person. Something was wrong with this place, and I had a hunch it was more than just the island’s mysterious nature.

“So, you’re probably wondering what kind of work you’ll be doing, what with the snow. The long and the short of it is: Not much. Essentially there is a tree that as far as I can gather is native to Lachrymore. I’ve dubbed it a ‘ghost willow’. Its white leaves remain year round. I need you to harvest as many as you can find. Exercise caution. The needles are laced with a powerful sedative. One too many pricks from that thing and you’ll be nappin’ something fierce”.

I must have looked like a deer in headlamps, because she followed up by asking if I was alright, and that I would probably be fine. My mind was racing. First task after being shipwrecked, losing my crew, and forcibly thrust into a new life was to gather innumerable clippings from the killing tree. Great, yeah. Definitely an apt and normal turn of events. Through the ceaseless verbiage in my head telling me what to say, I managed to squeak out five words.

“Where do I find them?” 

Kinue graciously provided me with a map and circled the general area where she typically would spot them this time of year.

“Anyway, as I said, bring me back as many as you can, and I can get started on the warding tonics. Might be a good idea to bring back a sapling or something so we can sustainably harvest them closer to home.” She slumped slightly on the counter with a labored look on her face.

I pondered the tail end of her statement. It brought me a small jolt of worry. The length of time it takes to fully grow a tree can add up into the decades, depending on the known species, let alone an unknown one. I could tell she had a wavering hope about getting off this island. Just how long had she been holed up here, monotonously working her life away. Silently accepting her fate without contention. She pointed me down to the dwelling I had been staying in. 

“Darien should have some shears that you can use to collect the clippings. Be safe out there!”. With a confident smile, she stood back up from the counter and made her way over to the door of her shop. As the door creaked open, she let out a sigh and mumbled something under her breath. I made my way over to the door she was holding, and stepped out into the sunlight, snow crunching beneath my feet. I spun around and offered my cadences before parting. That smile didn’t leave her face. Perhaps it was a facade she had long practiced and worn to steel herself against the conditions she was living under. Then again it could just  be a glimmer of that hope that seemed to wax and wane behind her eyes. Not yet completely defeated. I told myself, then and there, that I would return with those clippings, no matter the cost, simply to keep that flame alive in her. I could tell that she, like Kerrigan, sought to keep the sanity. The dream of getting home alive for everyone else who had found themselves awash of this dreary place. I told myself that I would keep alive the hope of those who had so long been a bastion for others.

I made my way back to my living quarters, and immediately located the dilapidated-looking shed in the far corner of the property. I made my way over and noticed that there was no security mechanism whatsoever padding the door to the contents inside. Initially, I thought this peculiar, but came to my senses when I recalled where I was. Not many means for covering up theft here. Everyone seemed rather tight-knit, save for Risa and the proverbial cultists that also inhabited the island. Pulling on the shed door, it opened with a small thunk. Looking inside, I noticed all manners of harvesting equipment. All appeared to be worn well beyond their years, covered in ages of rust and grime. I located the shears and grabbed a dented up bucket. I noticed a few letters carved into the side of it. I didn’t really put much thought into it, as my main goal was to get these clippings as quickly as I could before nightfall. 

As I made my way due southwest, I was hit again with the consuming loss of my shipmates. As the snow kicked up around me, I could almost make out their ghostly apparitions in the flurries. It pained me greatly to know I might never see them again. Killian’s gruff exterior often covered up the most wondrous sense of humor. Hargraves was always quiet, but if you caught him at the right time, he would always be up to something that sparked the utmost awe. Many aboard that vessel were people I had grown to know over the years, and while others were just mere acquaintances, there was endless opportunity to forge new friendships. The bitter taste left in my mouth at their demise almost seemed to snap me back to reality. What was I thinking? How could I just assume they didn’t make it? Many of them practically spent their entire life at sea, and here I was having a pity party about my loss. They were alive. I knew I had to keep that part of myself reinforced. After all, how could I maintain the hopes of Kinue and Kerrigan if I was constantly wallowing? With a stiff bite of my lower lip, I pressed on. Closer and closer I grew to the crude marking that Kinue had left on the map for me.

As I meandered through the dense thickets of mysteriously thriving trees, I came to a clearing. There, standing in the middle was a cluster of Kinue’s self-identified Ghost Willows. Approaching apprehensively, her cavalier warnings played over and over in my mind. 

“Exercise caution. The needles are laced with a powerful sedative. One too many pricks from that thing and you’ll be nappin’ something fierce”.

I wasn’t exactly looking for a reason to be knocked out in the middle of nowhere in the rapidly dropping temperatures, so I had also made sure to bring the most intact pair of gloves I could find. Slipping them on, I set to work right away, clipping the nicest looking leaves and dropping them into my bucket. Looking around as I did so, I once again noticed how the trees seemed to eerily survive the winter’s frigid breath. Leaves that should have fallen last season remained attached to their branches, green as a summer’s day. I turned my attention back to the clippings. The bucket was filling up and I was growing more anxious. Something about this clearing brought me great unease.

I felt as though I could see shadows moving through the dense patchwork of arbory. I was unsure if this was a product of being out in the snow for an extended period of time, or if I had actually taken one too many pricks from the willows. All I knew for a fact was that there was a tension mounting in me. As I collected the last of the requested clippings, something caught my eye. A few strands of long black hair lay on a patch of undisturbed snow a few feet away from the willows. Someone must have been here prior to my arrival. The hair was vaguely familiar looking, yet I couldn’t think of anyone with hair quite as long as this. It stretched several feet, almost the length of an entire person, maybe longer, but there was no mistaking that it had belonged to a person. I had begun to ponder whether I was encroaching on cultist territory. Alarm bells sounded in my brain. It was time to leave. My intuition was telling me that something was off and that I needed to vacate this area. Hastily, I made my way back through the snow I came from, trying to step in my old footsteps to quicken my departure. As I made it out of the clearing, I looked back and noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but my ears picked up the faintest sound of singing. It was the voice of a woman. Was I hearing things? Or perhaps the voice belonged to the very same person who had lost those strands of hair. Regardless, I knew I had been right to leave. With a full bucket, and shears brandished, I made my way back to town. The unnerving feeling of anxiety followed me all the way to Kinue’s doorstep. Shakily, I opened the door and stepped inside. Kinue wasn’t at the counter, but I could hear rummaging in the back of the shop. 

“Kinue?”, I called out. 

I heard a grunt and a grumble, followed by a laboured “One sec, be right out.”

I placed the bucket on the counter and rubbed my hands together for warmth as I looked around her shop. I had never really taken in the place and found that many things had escaped my attention. Many cupboards lined the walls with crude scrawlings etched underneath them. They were labels for all of the plant life she had stored in them. Many also had indiscernible labels next to the names. I couldn’t make out what most of them meant, however, many had skulls carved next to them. She also had a plethora of vials filled with mysterious liquids. My curiosity got the better of me as I reached for one.

“Lookin’ for an easy way off the island, hey?”

Kinue had startled me slightly as I looked over and found her leaning on the wall with a joking half-grin on her face.

“What is this stuff?”, I asked, brashly

“You know… A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Tonics, venoms, water samples. That one that you so haphazardly reached for is from yet another lifeform native to this land. Its properties are necrotic in nature and I have seen firsthand what even a drop can do to living tissue.”

“So what good is it here, out in the open?” I questioned with a chuckle.

“When paired with proper components, it is a powerful… antiseptic”.

“Interesting. Well, I have your clippings”, I gestured over to the bucket on the counter. 

Her face brightened as she made her way over to the bucket.

“Excellent!”, she said “This will do perfectly! I will set to work on these tomorrow. For now though, why don’t we hit up the Gull? We can celebrate your first successful job!” making her way over to one of the marked cabinets, she opened it and with a make-shift pair of tongs, began placing the ghost willow leaves inside. Once finished, she shut the door and beckoned me over to the front door of her shop. As we made our way over to the Wayward Gull, we made small talk about the day and the work we had done. I didn’t bring up the unease I felt in the forest, as she seemed to be in high spirits. Entering the tavern, we were greeted by a couple of the patrons present. We found a table, and Fae brought us over some drinks. She took one look at me and her face dropped.

“Looks like you had a long day, Ashton.”

“I uh- yeah I guess you could say that”.

Her face lifted back up

“Well, this one’s on the house”, she said as she placed a rather sizable tankard in front of me.

Kinue let out an uproarious laugh. This seemed to bring great joy to Faehali who could see the confusion on my face.

“All of them are on the house, hun”

As the joke sunk in, I let out a small embarrassed chortle. Fae continued

“Let me know if you need anything”

With an awkward thank you, Fae had left and I was left in a strange silence with Kinue. Graciously, she broke the tension.

“So how have you been adapting to everything?”

It was a relief to finally hear that question. I had been struggling as I’m sure anyone would. Speaking on it now would carry no weight, as I was sure Kinue had dealt with far more than my petty grievances. I quickly shifted the conversation in a different direction.

“How long does winter last around here?”, I asked.

She gave me a pensive look, clearly seeing that I was side-stepping her question, but alas humored me.

“Usually a couple of months, but it can be unpredictable. We’ve had a couple cycles last a few days. Nothing around here is concrete”.

Throughout the night, I asked her about the island and its anomalous existence. I learned more about the Acolytes of Shah, and how they worshipped a pantheon of raven deities who craved knowledge and balance above all else. Things had been overall peaceful between them and the town, but Kinue shared some doubts about their intentions and seemed to share a belief with Kerrigan that they may have had something to do with the disappearance of her business partner, Allistair Lind and the previous herbalist, Darien Hackett. She elaborated to me that they would often make the very same trip that they made the last time they were seen. From what I gathered, they were quite seasoned in the routes they had taken to complete their tasks. She also spoke of Risa Gideon and her sudden change in demeanor after the disappearance of her father, Edward. I hadn’t heard too much about Edward, but what I did know was that he essentially led the town when he was present. Kinue informed me of his deteriorating mental state and that he would often mumble to himself in an unfamiliar dialect. A language not known to her or anyone on the island. He would often wander off into the night and no one dared to stop him as they were worried he may become violent. She told me that Risa had followed him one night, and when she returned, she had changed. Her personality, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself. Everything. She recalls seeing Edward spend a couple days just circling the town aimlessly before he, too, disappeared without a trace. I could see tears welling up in Kinue’s eyes.

“Allistair was far too kind for this world. He was always the first to jump in and lend a hand. Even when his plate was full, he would always find room. I always admired that about him. I just wish I could see him again to tell him that.”

I looked at her as she began to sob. Grabbing her hand, I collected her attention and spoke.

“We are going to figure this out. Mark my words, we are going to solve this.”

I had no idea where those words came from, but there was a fire igniting in my chest. Something was clearly wrong here, and I was of the belief that if we could pinpoint the source of the disappearances, we could extrapolate a way off of this rock. She smiled at me through her tears and let out a dismissive laugh.

“That’s very sweet, Ashton, but we have gone looking, there isn’t so much as a trace of either of them on the island.”

I pondered for a minute, searching for the right thing to say.

“Then maybe we have to look beyond it”

She looked at me, puzzled, but seemed to enjoy my enthusiasm. 

“Together?” I asked

“Together”, she replied.

I awoke the next morning and everything seemed particularly liminal. The same cold winds lapped at my residence, creating ominous creaks and moans in the wood, as it had every morning before, however I didn’t hear the light commotion that was usually enveloping the town around this time. Stepping outside, I could see that the streets were vacant. Accompanied only by a couple wayward sheets of paper, I took in the chilling quiet before trying once again to make contact with Risa Gideon. The walk to her place was just as devoid of sound as the town was. Everything seemed as though I had entered a parallel reality. A counterfeit existence. Approaching her hut, I felt that familiar unease that I felt the day I met her. Her haunting form plastered in my mind. I had to force myself to put it out of thought. Without answers from her, I would have no leads into these missing people. If my hunch was correct, she saw something the night she followed her Father into those woods, and the only way I would be able to extract that information would be if I could gain her trust and open her up. Hesitantly, I raised my hand to wrap on her door. Before I could I heard a laboured and raspy voice from behind it. 

“I see you out there, newcomer. I can always… smell them coming.”

Her statement didn’t quell the unease, but I knew I had to press on.

“Risa? Is that you? I just wanted to speak with you.”

There was a stagnant silence for a minute before she replied.

“Come. Quickly before the sunlight invites itself in.”

I obliged her request, and quickly rushed in, closing the door behind me. Immediately I was greeted with the most pungent smell of vinegar. The very same as when she had arrived at the bonfire. Her home looked as though it had been plagued by fire. Furniture and belongings covered in such a thick layer of ash, it looked as though the place had previously burned down. In the corner of what I assumed was the living room, I found Risa curled up on the ground. She looked even more ghostly than when I first saw her.

“Risa, hello. My name is Ashto-”

“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!”, she bellowed, staring at me with the utmost hatred in her eyes. In a blink her face contorted into a sickening smile, revealing heavily rotted teeth.

“He has known of your arrival, as he does with every lost wretch that finds themselves on his shores. More food for him. This island is the bearing tree and we are his fruit. Don’t you see Ashton Kline? Everyone becomes food for the All-knowing seeker!” She began cackling and pointing at me as though I had missed out on some sort of joke.

“Who are you talking about?” I inquired.

“Oh you don’t know of the divine retributor? Of Y’asthol’shah? We are all pieces in his pursuit of knowledge. Crucial devices for his rebirth! And you… You are the cornerstone in the grand evolution. Accept it, and perhaps you may be held in favor.” 

I could see that she had slowly begun getting off the floor. I slowly backed up towards the door. As she started shambling towards me, her contorted smile grew more inhuman-looking.

“I, myself, am wondering what your soul tastes like. I will admit I have had a certain… curiosity about your place in the divine framework. You must be irresistible if the corrupted one views you with this much… pleasure”.

My unease had absolutely peaked. I couldn’t formulate any words. I had a deep, primal fear washing over me. The woman I was locking eyes with was no longer human, or at least everything in my gut was telling me that she was some sort of voracious predator. She continued speaking.

“He cannot go hungry. So long as Lachrymore exists, however, that shan’t ever be a worry. His appetite grows, and shall do so until eternity closes in on itself. The blood of his chosen shall forever drench these lands, and you. ARE. NEXT!”

She lunged at me, but I managed to step away just in time. She hit the heavy door with a rather sonorous thud. She snapped her head in my direction, still wearing that smile. A clear liquid was gushing from her now broken-looking nose. Her eyes had since clouded over. As she attempted another lunge I pushed her aside and swung her front door open. The rays of sun permeating through the clouds hit her face and seemed to burn her skin. She quickly retreated towards the back of the house screeching as I jumped outside and slammed the door shut. Huffing and puffing, I turned-tail and ran as fast as I could towards town. It was apparent I was not going to find answers with Risa Gideon, but one thing was abundantly clear. Something awful was a play here, and my sights were now set on the Acolytes of Shah. That name she mentioned. Y’asthol’shah. It must have something to do with them. Though I felt one step closer to an answer, I also felt one step closer to my grave. I gathered from my first night that Risa would occasionally roam the island. I deduced that nighttime was the only time it was safe for her to do so, given what I witnessed the sun do to her skin. Would she be after me? I had to be alert. As I made my way back to town, I had also breathed a sigh of relief that my shipmates hadn’t ended up here. I had immensely hoped that they ended up somewhere far more sane than this place. I bit my lip as I wrestled with this moral quandary. Should I tell someone that what I had encountered wasn’t… human? Would they be in danger as well? I dreaded the nights to come. Was her behaviour a product of severe mental breakage, or was something else, perhaps influencing her? The longer I sat back, the more questions would arise. I had to do some digging on the Acolytes of Shah. 

That night, I didn’t sleep. My mind was awash with thoughts of death. Creeping closer. Reaching with its long, cold, bony fingers. Every creak and groan of the wooden structure surrounding me, sent me into a spiralling panic. It was my intention to explore the island more tomorrow, as Kinue had tasked me with gathering more Ghost Willow clippings for later use, however, a nagging feeling kept eating at me. A dark messenger beckoning me into the night. I couldn’t wait. While I was consumed by fear, it seemed to be overridden with an unfamiliar impulse. It was as though something was calling to me, deep within the woods of this mysterious island. Clambering out of my bed, I threw on my coat and made my way to the door. Reaching for my lantern, I stopped. I could have sworn that I heard a raspy voice outside my window telling me to hide. I stood frozen as I heard inconsistent labouring breaths outside. 

Gathering all my courage and strength, I ripped open my front door where the sounds had been ruminating, but to my surprise, I found nary an insect on my stoop. Not a living thing in sight. The midnight air was still. The voracious blizzards had seemed to take an absence on this night. A few lights from the town shone towards me. Paired with the uneasy silence, I was left feeling surveilled by an unseen entity. Expelling a deep breath, I closed my front door and made my way around the side of the house where a rusty, archaic axe sat perched in a large stump. Prying it from its wooden prison, I brandished it tightly as I made my way into the swallowing abyss.

As the darkness began enveloping me, and as the final glimmer of light vanished from the town behind me, the effects of pareidolia began to set in. I could swear through the dark I was seeing grinning faces peer around the trees, staring directly at me. I had brought a rather weathered-looking flashlight with me, but it offered little comfort, and even less light to my immediate surroundings. My intuition pulled me further and further into the dense woods. Eventually I came to the clearing where not twenty-four hours earlier I felt the overwhelming dread consume me. I knew I had to push further. I had not yet explored the outer ring where the trees once again dotted the forest. Pushing through the clearing, I enter the other side of the forest. Uncharted territory. The familiar unease remained, and slowly began to swell in my chest. I could hear the crashing of waves on the shore. As I made it through the trees, I found myself on the beach. The very same one where I had first been found by Kerrigan. What could have led me here?

As I approached, I was shocked to see a light glowing behind a rock face. Was it a… person? I cautiously moved closer as the light came into view. It was a torch and attached to it was the hand of a man. Squinting, I could hardly believe my eyes. It was Roane Hargraves. I was so taken aback, I stumbled on my words before calling out.

“HARGRAVES!”, I shouted. The man ignored my cry and kept a steady pace down the beach. Had I been mistaken? No. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was him. Running down the jagged edge onto the soft sand below, I ran after the man, while continuing to call out to him

“Hargraves, it’s me! Ashton!”

Again, he brushed off my initiation. Something wasn’t quite right. He appeared to be keeping a steady, yet slowed pace, and no matter how fast I ran, he seemed to stay several steps ahead. It wasn’t until I had changed my line of questioning that he would turn to face me.

“What do you want from me?!”, I shouted.

The man I knew to be Roane Hargraves, spun around and faced me. His eyes were black voids, and his mouth hung open, revealing rotting teeth, similar to that of Risa Gideon’s. He didn’t say a word, but brought up his torch to the water, revealing a sandy path out into the crushing depths of the ocean. Beyond the dim light of the fire, I could make out the silhouette of a sizable structure. As I returned my gaze to the Hargraves creature before me, he let out a shrill, muffled cry before his body disintegrated in front of me. As though he had been turned to ash. A gust of wind blew everything away, and as I approached where he had been standing, not a trace of him remained, however I found a small, charred piece of wood with the word ‘Hollow’ carved into it. Looking up from the sand, I could see the grand structure looming, ominously in the blackness, beckoning me in its own way. Setting one foot on the sandy path leading me into the ocean, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a cleverly crafted ruse. Or maybe the throes of the island have already sent me into a spiral of madness all my own. Regardless, I knew that I had made a promise to myself that I would return the light of hope to the people that had long been imprisoned here on Lachrymore. With that sentiment burning inside me, I was able to push myself by uttering a single phrase.

“Just one. More. Step.”

THE END