All the good things seem to have one property: they end, some earlier, some later. Today, Painter wasn’t woken up by the little blue ball. Perhaps, because it was chided before, it became incredibly docile. Painter stretched and took a look at the medallion, which lay near her pillow. Its arrow finally came alive, showing a single direction, no matter how Painter turned it: to the west. Was it a compass now?

After taking a shower and changing her clothes, Painter ate a few cookies, which her wardrobe had galore. There were coconut cookies, almond cookies, oatmeal cookies, gingerbread cookies, fortune cookies and even macarons inside the wardrobe. Were macarons even cookies? On her sixth day of the stay on the island, Painter seemed to come across a confusing conundrum. She solved it simply: she took a bite from a macaron and then another, eating the whole thing. It was tasty, so it didn’t matter whether it was a type of cookie or not.

Painter ate a fortune cookie as well. There was a message inside, but Painter didn’t bother to check. Instead, she closed the wardrobe and looked around. Perhaps it was the last time she saw her island home. The island seemed cruel and unforgiving, yet she grew slightly attached to the little cozy house, a safe haven in tumultuous times. Even if staying on the island was dangerous, there were a few times when Painter felt genuinely happy. After taking the last look around, Painter put the little blue fluffy ball on her head and departed.

“Let’s go, Dreamer,” she said.

The other houses stood not that far away. Their owners disappeared one by one. Painter felt a bit sad that such nice houses were abandoned. Why couldn’t they just live in peace, without anyone dying or disappearing?

Painter followed the arrow as it pointed West. She went through a grove, where other fluffy balls lived. Seeing their blue relative, the other fluffy balls wobbled happily. The little blue ball seemed to be overjoyed to see them and leaped down from Painter’s head. The other fluffy balls surrounded their blue sister in a big group hug.

“So, you have found your family, Dreamer,” Painter said wistfully. She continued her journey to the west alone.

The arrow turned slightly northwards, indicating that Painter should go through the walking trees dell. The painter carefully crossed it. She noticed Detective, who was crossing the dell as well. Perhaps, he decided to follow her, bid a farewell to another fellow islander. After Painter would leave, there would be no one but him.

Detective never seemed slow, so he should have no problem with gaining on her. Painter looked at her compass, it still pointed West. And so, she went towards the forest, covered by the everlasting fog.

And then, as Painter was about to enter the forest, Detective had finally gained on her.

“Sorry, Painter, but I can’t let you succeed,” Detective said. This was unexpected to her.

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“What do you mean?” Painter said, making a step back, as Detective approached.

“The first and the second time, I made a mistake. I burned and poisoned them without getting to know them first. And now it weighs on me. So, I won’t do that again. Before killing you, I’d like to learn just what kind of person you are,” Detective explained as he came closer. “Well then, tell me just who you are, Painter.”

“Why would you kill them?” Painter asked, her hand grasping the handle of the knife, hidden in her pocket.

“You see,” Detective winced, “my due date wasn’t on Sunday. It was on Monday. The note I found in my room told me, however, that I could live another day only if a person dies. As you could see, it’s already Saturday and I’m still pretty much alive. You are not getting away.”

As Detective got close enough, Painter tried to slash at him with her knife. Alas, Detective grasped her hand as if he expected it.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand. Where did you find Scion’s knife?” Detective wondered. And then Painter saw it. From a forest, covered by fog, appeared the creature Painter saw before. Its burning eyes watched her without blinking, its bone body approaching Detective and Painter silently, but quickly.

“...” Painter was silent, mesmerized by the creature that was getting closer and closer to them.

“Do you mean to say that there’s someone behind me? Do you think I would believe in that trick?” Detective smiled. And then the creature hit Detective between his legs. Detective lost his grip over Painter’s hand and she slashed again at him. This time, Painter wasn’t stopped, her knife lodging in Detective’s eye socket. Detective’s body swayed and slumped.

Painter looked at the creature that suddenly reminded her of a person she once knew. Their eyes had a different color, and the person she knew had a bit more skin and hair and muscles, but nevertheless there was some kind of similarity, of kindred connection, which Painter couldn’t quite describe.

“Monk?” Painter asked. The bony creature nodded. Its ferocious, toothy expression didn’t seem to change, but Painter could have sworn it smiled. He was back! Painter felt happiness swell up inside her and she hugged it, “I’m so glad to see you again!”

As Monk didn’t quite seem to be capable of talking, the two of them proceeded westward, into the forest.

“Finally, I can talk again,” Monk said cheerfully.

“You can?” Painter asked in surprise.

“Yeah, fog isn’t the only magical thing about this forest,” Monk explained.

“What happened to you after we parted?” Painter tried to get to the heart of the matter.

“You see, it seems like my condition was to die before my due time, which was exactly midnight. I accomplished that with flying colors, after I decided to have an excursion in the swamp lands. That part is a bit bloody, so I’d like to avoid telling you the details,” Monk winked, perhaps one of the few things his current body was proficient at, as seeing red scorching fire disappearing and rekindling again could cause quite a scare. Then, Monk continued: “Also, thanks. Like, a lot.”

“For what?” Painter wondered what she could have done for Monk to express his gratitude so vigorously.

“You see, I wanted to explore the foggy island, but unfortunately, it was bigger than I expected. I got lost. While walking aimlessly in circles, I heard voices and followed them. So, you saved me from the captivity in this hazy shroud.”

“Oh,” was all the Painter said. Monk’s revelation was truly unexpected. “Still, I am happy to see you back. I really am.”

“So am I, friend. So am I,” Monk responded.

“It seems like our adventure is about to end,” Painter said, looking at the destination her compass was pointing at.

“So it seems,” Monk agreed. A paper from the fortune cookie flew off the Painter’s pocket.

“An old friend will appear in front of you unexpectedly!” said its message.