A man was leaning on his table inside a well-maintained clinic with cots that have no covers on them. A prominent medicine-like smell lingers inside, contaminating the clinic. A young woman in a protective coat enters the clinic.
“Doctor!”
“Rista, what is it?”
“I need your help in Lundy.”
Gabrio followed Rista. For a moment, the image of a young girl overlapped with the little girl in front of him. His hand on the wall, he climbs to the surface of the deck. He brings his lantern forward. Wind welcomed him as his eyes naturally fell on the gray world before him.
“This way, Doctor.”
He takes a step forward, hand inside his coat, following Rista through the complex root-bridges that have been naturally formed to extend when the whole fleet stops to remove the barnacles and repair the ships.
Lost in the fog of in-between. The fleet of the Reconnoiter company has been sailing the seas for so long that the children born in the fleet have become full-fledged adults who have grown to become part of their community. Gabrio stops and looks at the head of the arkshelled island. Then his eyes went to the Elder Spring where the blinder of light slept.
The Island that moves.
The Lighthouse Fleet.
The kids have started calling it the Lighthouse Fleet. All they knew was that this fleet “Doctor!”
“Rista, what is it?”
“I need your help in Lundy.”
Gabrio followed Rista. For a moment, the image of a young girl overlapped with the little girl in front of him. His hand on the wall, he climbs to the surface of the deck. He brings his lantern forward. Wind welcomed him as his eyes naturally fell on the gray world before him.
“This way, Doctor.”
He takes a step forward, hand inside his coat, following Rista through the complex root-bridges that naturally formed to extend when the entire fleet stops to remove the barnacles and repair the ships.
Lost in the Fog of in-between. The fleet of the Reconnoiter company has been sailing the seas for so long that the children born in the fleet have become full-fledged adults who have grown to become part of their community. Gabrio stops and looks at the head of the Arkshelled island. Then his eyes went to the Elder Spring, where the blinder of light slept.
The Island that moves.
The Lighthouse Fleet.
The kids have called it the Lighthouse Fleet. All they knew was that this fleet was their home. They think of this island as their home. Fleet-borne kids are strange that they find it strange, the worries of the adults that came before them. They know of monsters. The hero that sleeps eternally in the Elder Spring, waiting for a chance to save the world. The story they tell to retain the hope of the fleet-kin.
He stops moving. Gabrio observes the nimble movements of the elven-kin that were crossing these vines that allow them to cross distances. It is a smooth, sturdy rope made of enchanted vine suspended above a high point to which they would attach themselves for a ride. Gabrio saw them moving fast, using the elevated towers they raised to quickly travel from the ships that had connected to the island.
It came to Gabrio that the Arkshelled Island has turned into this strange creature, though puppeteered by the Elven-kin, that has grown a strange will. He swears there are times where the gigantic eyes of this island would turn to him. He could feel his heart shiver sometimes, and then dread knowing the heart of the beast which Arkshelled is placed on, lives.
Gabrio crosses the suspended bridge and places his foot firmly on the tailbone of the island where the ships, Grand-Galleons are anchored. One could tell that the ships are being dragged, held together by limb-like roots that keeps the ships and galleons stable. Both sides were populated with the ships.
Lundy, the community close to the tailbone port has become the place of gathering where most of the sailors, passengers, and many crews have come to rest. One would notice that there are emplacements grown on the ship, like trees with cannons attached to them, controlled by certain sentinels who bring the order to this island-home of the former people of AON.
Rista stops to let one cattle pass. Gabrio watches the four-legged beast, with two horns on its skull, and this leathery skin move, licking the ground it passes, the lantern it carries emitting light. The Elder Spring, the one in the center, where the elder tree towers above brings on light. The elder tree produces light-fruits that produce bioluminescence, bright enough to produce a tiny sun in the middle of the island. Rista stops to talk to a woman in a white headdress.
“Oh, Doctor!”
“Good day, Sasha.”
“I see that Miss is having a hard time?”
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“In a way,” said Rista, not hiding the weakness in her voice. “There are a lot of things that need to be done. The lads in kettle-oval have been trying to make due with the seafood.”
Sasha takes something out of the basket. Gabrio looked in the basket. The food that naturally grows on the intertidal basin, the rocky part of the island, is called the goose-plant. Different from the common barnacles, that is a strange mutation of a goose and a plant. These shell-like formations clinging to the rocks are often harvested.
The discovery of this food was made ten years ago during a time where there was barely any light in the world. Gabrio could still recall the news of one of them pulling up driftwood and saw the seashells clinging to it from one end to the other. When one of them opened it up, he discovered small birds living inside these shells or so he thought until one of the elven-kin recognized such creatures as the clacks. These stem-like seashells are lightly boiled in brine. To eat the clacks, the diamond-like foot is pressed between thumb and finger and the inner white flesh is pulled out of the shell case. The claw is removed and the remaining flesh is swallowed. As far as Gabrio knew, some eat the clacks after cooking them in hot ashes. It has become a stable food for the people here and how they are produce is a mystery
From what Gabrio can gather from Sasha’s conversation with Rista. The lads that were in-charge of harvesting the denser and packed clacks were harvesting on the edges of the island while the waves were constantly thrashing against them. It was said that the clacks there were bigger in order to withstand the waves and cling more tightly to the shell of the island.
“Doctor, would you like one?”
Sasha offered, the smile of the now-mature girl has made the lads around her quite intimidated. Sasha, who knows her charm, tends to make use of it. Gabrio recalled helping Sasha’s mother bring her to this world.
“Don’t try to charm the lads too much in giving you food, Sasha.”
“Of course, Doctor! How would I dare?”
Gabrio took the boiled clack and bit on the peduncle, the trunk of the seafood. He chewed on it before pinching salt and lacing the food with it. After eating three or five clacks, Gabrio placed the shells aside and waited for Rista and Sasha to finish their conversation.
“It mustn't be that serious if we can eat clacks,” Gabrio pointed out.
Rista raised her head. “Of course, Uncle Robert wants you out and Auntie Mana told me I should get you out of your clinic.”
“It’s not like I don’t get out of the clinic.”
“You don’t, Doctor.”
Gabrio looked away. To keep his mind focused he has devoted himself to learning. He has been rather obsessed. Hoping to make his mind keener, while on his free days, he practices discipline, learning martial techniques, and helping improve upon the guns and the tools of the fleet. The treeheart granted to him has extended his lifespan and perhaps it is because he came to realize that his life has been extended, he began learning more than medicine to pass time.
He has grown old. The external appearance has remained young, but he knew that internally and mentally he had grown. He has seen children grow into the ripe age and it felt like it was only yesterday that he was coaxing Rista with a candy. The little girl has grown to become his student. Life wasn’t so adventurous. It has been years since the battle and yet it is fresh to him.
Mana has explained, through her observations and Ristina’s examinations. His body is being mutated to resemble the elven-kin. In a way, he was hoping that this mutation would allow him to speak the words of power they possess, unfortunately, he came to realize, although he has a treeheart, it didn’t mean that he could speak the words of power. To be long-lived is a blessing enough. If anything, it made Gabrio wonder if he could deal with the years to come. He likes the ability to stay alive, live as long as Mana does, and yet the thought of living long made him wonder if he could do it as well.
Could he persist in this world that seems to have been won by others? The hero that was supposed to save them went to sleep, and throughout their journey, he came to understand this truth.
The world has ended, and they won the battle.
Saving the world has a time limit.
They were supposed to reach the thousand islands thirty years ago. And yet they still sail the Greater Seas with little hope of finding land. Most of the fleet has accepted the fate of roaming the seas. To live in the ships, sometimes they come to Arkshelled to step on stable land, and then go back to their homes.
The years made it possible to adapt to the seas. Even the high-blooded nobles who he thought would lose their minds have decided to abandon some of their pride for comfort — wearing lighter clothing. The sun has not completely abandoned them, and yet bioluminescence light has become the source of light for the ships, opting to use fire for more important tasks such as cooking food and providing warmth in days where the cold truly strikes.
Gabrio smelled the sea and that distinct smell of wet rock dipped in the sea. The breeze was cold and in the distance he could see Swindmore, the community where most of the cattles were. Rista stops to urge Gabrio, they follow this narrow path made from sturdy vines attached to the side of the island and find this hub where most of the divers, fishermen, and hunters tend to stay. Not far from the path of vines, he saw Robert, who was in his prime, watching the lads, easing their pain. His vicious stare telling them to not make a fuss while the lad struggles with a leaf in his mouth.
“Here he is, Doctor.”
Gabrio goes down on one knee. He takes his glasses out, and then zooms his monocle on the wound, tracing his finger on the wound.
“You’d need a surgeon for this.”
“The surgeon is busy.”
“I see.”
Gabrio takes his medical tools out while Rista stands next to his side. Silently watching Gabrio perform, handing out the tools, and then observing the suture Gabrio is making.
The father of the lad came rushing to his lad. Gabrio informed the father that his son isn’t badly injured, and there is no need for panic. After the minor surgery, Gabrio decided to check on the people on this hub, checking their hands, legs, and bodies for any infectious wound.
After the complete checkup of the hub, Gabrio decided to watch the dim sunset with his writing stick and journal. His eyes looked far into the horizon.
No island.
No monsters.
Just the flat sea and a bitter wind that accompanies the breeze.
There is a new saying in the whispers of the fleet-kin. Some say such sayings are heretic, even blasphemous to an extent. It is a saying that can’t be proven or questioned openly — knowing that doing so would make one ask if the world needed saving in the first place.
Or is it simply the end of a long cycle?