“Behold, the target!” Saoirse crowed as she held up what looked like a potato.

“All that for the most nothing vegetable,” Hazel muttered. They’d trekked another four hours in the dark. The monotony is broken only by occasional hunts partaken by Kei.

They’d offered to let her try it out, but although Hazel saw the necessity in it, she didn’t have the stomach to do it. Getting into a fight to protect was a far different matter in her mind.

She was interested in magic though, and would definitely pester Kei to teach her once they had some free time. Tuning back in, she heard Saoirse talking about how it wasn’t just a potato, but a mushroom.

Kei was adamant it was not. Hazel wasn’t sure what to think. It was very strange for plants to grow here, but Kei said otherwise and was a druid. Not just any druid either. The spirit had proudly called themself a master druid, which was, apparently, quite a high rank in the living world.

Idly noting that Saoirse had dug up some more potatoes and was ready to hike back to the boat, Hazel asked Kei more about where they came from.

“There is not much to talk about. I came from a region called the Towers. I was cooped up my whole life studying plant magic because it was what I had an affinity with. Then I was sent to fight in the war, and died in a spaceship where there were no plants.”

Hazel opened her mouth to ask about this war but shut it when she heard Saoirse’s voice in her head. I’ll fill you in later. This one is a little too widespread for you to have not known about.

As socially graceful as ever, Hazel pivoted by just shutting up and letting the conversation die.

The trek back was pleasant and the vibe was cozy. It turns out Saoirse’s oar had a warm light setting.

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The other party was not back yet. Saoirse had a troubled expression on her face, but when asked, just told Hazel not to worry. “They’re not in any danger. None they can’t handle, at least.”

She wondered just how strong these spirits were. After the snake, she’d thought they were civilians. But after watching Kei in the jungle, and the fishermen on the beach pulling in titanic fishes, it was clear that was erroneous.

Speaking of fishermen, Hazel noticed a familiar tan figure struggling with a net. Tom yelled out at her as she drew close. “How about that eh? A school of razor mackerel came by and I managed to snag a couple dozen in one net!”

A sudden force caused him to grunt as he braced. “I could use some of that snake wrangling strength though - I’ve been barely holding on for half an hour!”

Hazel rolled her eyes. The dramatics this man got up to. She grabbed the edge of the net and as the slack lessened, the sheer power of dozens of magical fish nearly pulled her straight off her feet. She was strong, but she’d forgotten to brace herself against the net. Red-faced, she accepted Tom’s playful teasing as the two hauled in the catch.

The pair crouched by the haul, fish struggling against the net. Tom, gloves still on, started inspecting and chucking fish back into the sea. “You haven’t got gloves on have you? I don’t have a spare set for you - do you mind helping me grab an ice box?”

Hazel acquiesced, standing up and looking for one. A helpful spirit noticed her searching gaze and waved her over to a literal giant ice box. He was older looking than the other spirits. He’d also handed her a pair of gloves with the box, telling her she’d need it for the razor mackerel.

Which from the name, kind of made it obvious why.

Lugging the box back to Tom, he’d already released what needed to be released. Just the females, he’d said - apparently local populations have been down recently. The pair began dumping the remaining fish unceremoniously into the box.

The fish themselves were like nothing she’d seen before. Which wasn’t saying much, since Hazel wasn’t big on fish back on earth. She just recognized weird when weird slapped her in the face. The silver underbelly of the mackerel was translucent, to the point she could see its innards. Meanwhile, the patterned light blue of the top half had the ability to flare out into hundreds of tiny razor sharp blades.

“Awful creatures to swim into,” Tom commented at her staring at the fish. “They’re carnivores - they rush at larger sea creatures as a school and wreak complete havoc with their scales in a nasty whirlpool. Turns just about anything into mincemeat.”

“How did -”

Tom, probably wise to Hazel’s neverending curiosity, preempted her. “How did they not slice right through the net? Mate, the coin this beauty cost, I’d be surprised if even Saoirse could finagle her way out of it if she were trapped. The finest offering at the Carp Pro Shop Pyramid.”

Tom let out a sudden yell. He’d taken the chance to scratch his neck and accidentally nicked himself with a razor. “Ow! One of the damn razors got caught in the glove.”

Light mist wafted out from the small nick. Hazel watched in fascination as it closed up on its own, not even mentioned by Tom. He was busy plucking the embedded blade out of his glove.

“We’re mostly set here I think. These would fetch a pretty penny in the City, but even better, they’d be fantastic eating later.”

“Later?”

“Yeah mate, some bloke caught himself a titan grouper earlier so we’ve decided to hold a bit of a feast tonight.”

“Oh - does Saoirse know about it?”

“Ah, you should go tell her.”

“What, why me?”

“Hazel, would you rather clean two dozen fish covered in razors, or tell Saoirse we’ve set a bonfire up for tonight.”

She agreed to tell Saoirse about the upcoming impromptu feast.

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Hazel spotted Alex’s party as soon as they left the cover of the jungle. They seemed animated and she could hear distant shouting.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Alex was livid by the time the two parties reunited. The spirit ran over to Hazel, directing a look of annoyance at her former party. Gustav made a move as well, but a single wave of Alex’s arms and magical shackles bound the overeager man.

“They’ve been at it the whole time,” Saoirse informed Hazel.

“That man has been probing and poking and testing my patience the whole time!” Alex ranted. “And that fool, Evans, just went along with it!”

Gustav opened his mouth, but more translucent chains muzzled him like a dog.

“That’s not fair, Alexandria. You know he needs to ask these questions.” Evans retorted.

Alex scoffed. “We all know he doesn’t.”

Gustav tore through the chains that held him down, roaring, “And so what else can I do! There is no alternative, no other thing that could possibly keep me! I have but a week left on my ticket, I must try!”

“Truly, only one week left?” A voice asked. Hazel realized it was Kei.

“Yes.” Gustav seemed deflated after his outburst. “I’d hoped I could do it on this trip. But it did not happen. I know you all think I’m chasing the wrong horse, but I have to try. Hazel is my last chance. Please.”

“Oh, Gustav.” Kei sighed. They walked to where the man was on the ground. The height difference would’ve been comical if the mood wasn’t so somber.

Quietly, she heard Saoirse say, “Come on, Hazel. Let’s give them some space.”

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“What was that all about? A week left for what?” Hazel asked. They were standing by the coast, watching the others preparing a bonfire. It looked like someone had caught a massive fish of some kind and they were celebrating it. “How am I his last chance?”

Saoirse turned to Hazel, “He thinks you’re his last chance to save himself.” She continued sadly, “The spirits, they all arrive here with tickets, and when it runs out, they… don’t linger.”

“They move on?”

“They can’t move on. They just can't stay.”

“What, like, they die? Give him a new ticket then!”

“No, Hazel. They don’t die, they just… I can’t say more.”

Hazel worried. She’d assumed she was like the others - dead and eternal in this realm. But if they weren’t eternal…

“Saoirse, where’s my ticket? I don’t remember having one.”

“You don’t have one.” “I could just,” Hazel sighed, “I don't know, disappear like Gustav?”

Saoirse didn’t say anything for a while.

“What’s happening to Gus, won’t happen to you. I think. Remember, you’re physically here like me and the other captains. Our belief keeps us, and you, from aging.”

Belief again. It keeps coming up. If belief could keep the physical beings alive eternally, then why not Gustav? “Teach Gustav. Help him.”

She shook her head sadly, “No, Hazel. We’ve tried. The tickets expire when they do. Nothing stops it. The only way is for them to solve their regret and move on before that happens.”

“It’s why he thinks you’re his last chance. He believes his regret is never discovering something no one else has. And you, Hazel, a supposed captain-in-training, are a never-before-seen phenomenon.”

“Wha- why didn’t anyone tell me? I’ll go answer his questions. Right now. I can save him -”

“No.”

Hazel whirled around at Saoirse. “What do you mean, no?”

“It’s not his true regret.”

“You know his true regret and you won’t tell him?”

“I can't tell him, Hazel.” Saoirse grew animated. She’d never seen Saoirse worked up. Her mind ran, searching for why.

The geas. Hazel would have torn her hair out in frustration. “Then tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter! No one can tell him! His true regret is that he will never get the attention he desires from people. His true regret is he’ll never get the chance to stand out from the other clones in his colony-ship. He’s terrified he’s just another nameless faceless clone! Now go ahead and tell him, Hazel!”

The vitriol and grief shining in Saoirse’s eyes scared Hazel. The intensity had knocked her backward. Saoirse was exuding intense pressure, practically spitting the words out. Saoirse continued, quieter, “Go on, tell him. Try to tell Gustav.”

It wasn’t a threat, Hazel realized with a start. Saoirse wasn’t mad at her. Saoirse was pleading with her to try. Something had cowed this woman Hazel had come to know as an unshakeable protector of the spirits. She would help Saoirse.

Steeling her resolve, Hazel stalked out to Gustav. He looked at her, eyes filled with resignation and wear, the tiniest flash of hope. These spirits have been around for longer than she’d even been alive, chasing their regrets. The weight of the years almost floored her. She looked at Alex, sullen and reprimanded.

Kei, kneeling next to the shorter man.

Evans, arms crossed, skeptical of her.

They knew what she was trying to do.

She tried to tell Gustav, but the world froze. She stood there, throat constricted. Hazel couldn’t choke out even a single sound. She couldn’t tell Gustav. Hazel raged. She’d tell him. Why couldn’t she?

Invisible pressure held her in place. The belief of billions of spirits and millions of captains pressed down on her. She braced her knees and forced her lungs to work. She was strong, she had never backed down.

The tiniest sound worked its way through her throat, falling out of her mouth.

The others stopped breathing.

And the weight of the world crashed down on Hazel. Bringing her to her knees. Something warm ran across her lips. Swiping at it, her fingers came away slick with blood. A nosebleed. Alexandria hurried over and covered it up. More torn-up, hastily prepared bandages. Alex had packed it specifically for her.

Blearily looking back up, Hazel felt her heart pang.

Gustav. The poor man. His hopes were dashed. For years he knew the true regret he chased wasn’t right. But no one could tell him. He was a hamster in a wheel of his own making.

The barest tiniest sound she’d made was the brightest beacon of hope the man had felt in the last century. But she had failed. He could never move on because he could never acknowledge that he already had what he desired.

Hazel wanted to cry at the injustice. He already had what he needed. Kei obviously was fond of him. Alexandria was so frustrated at the world for him that she’d lashed out. Frustrated at how he was forced to run at the wrong finish line for so long.

All he had to do was accept it. All he had to do was KNOW. But no one could tell him, and his thinking was set in stone after centuries of running at this goal.

She couldn’t tell Gustav, because no one believed she could. She attempted an apology, but it died on her lips. What was the point? Could she believe harder than everyone else? Gustav was doomed because no one thought she could tell him.

But she could, she knew she could tell him. She just couldn’t. She wanted to scream. This was so unfair! She could feel the thoughts powered by the realm worm its way into her mind. She couldn’t let it find purchase, or Gustav would be truly doomed.

Clenching her fists, she walked back to Saoirse. She felt the group wilt at her retreat. She was not giving up. She knew she could tell him. She needed to harness her own belief.

“Saoirse.”

“You couldn’t do it. It’s okay.”

“Don’t. I can do it.” Hazel’s resolve was true steel. “Please teach me, Saoirse. How do you use belief and force the realm to bend?”

“Oh, Hazel,” Saoirse spoke. “We’ve tried… none of the spirits can outpower us captains’ belief. The geas - it’s too strong.”

Hazel glared. “I’m not a spirit.”

Like a parting veil. “You are not bound by the geas.”

Saoirse’s eyes shut tight, taking a deep breath. The geas was unbreakable, but it could be bent. Hazel watched Saoirse battle her own beliefs, building new patterns of thought, and rewiring how she viewed the world. Allowing for Hazel’s success under the wordings of some ancient pact.

“Teach me, Saoirse.”

“Okay,” eyes wide open now, a grin with all her teeth showing. “I will.”