He'd been scrolling through his Ibout account when a news video popped up from a station he'd followed. At first, it had been muted. Reading the caption caused him to change the setting. Froyd sat his laptop on his mother's dashboard. She'd been applying make-up, but with a few sentences, her hands froze in midair.

"The Prime Vessel has been hospitalized. I repeat our Head of state has been hospitalized and is in critical condition." The news reporter was rambling in shock since it was almost impossible.

"How come they don't say what for?"

"Froyd, Lione's government is probably blocking the information."

Froyd didn't know if it was the air being too cold, or the news, but he rubbed away the goosebumps from his forearms.

"You think it'll have an impact on the ceremony?"

"No. It's too early for anyone to make a power move, and the ceremony is too important to stop. You guy's should be alright."

The reporters were speculating, and his mother, Mary Rolle, hated it. She closed the browser.

"Don't let it be a distraction, you've got your own life ahead of you."

The light in the sky was fading. Turning an orangy red. They parked on the pier, like many others. Parents would sit with their kids to give a proper farewell to their childhoods. A Lionian tradition. A very recent one. They'd watched as forklifts brought down cargo, and parcels, from freighters; as passengers left., from other ships. People would come from far and near to Nairy.

Froyd ate his favorite fish burger slowly. He knew he wouldn't have another for at least a year. The bread locally made, and would only pass his inspection as good, if a little too sweet. What really made the sandwich was the freshness of the fish. The owner's brother was supposedly a fisherman. Froyd generally wasn't involved with people outside his circle, But he'd wish knew them, their restaurant played host to a lot of his good memories.

"Hey, Froyde. How do I look."

"Like my mother."

"Whatever."

They'd sat in comfortable silence. But inevitably Froyd mind turned to a topic, that only felt more and more obvious.

"Dad really didn't come."

His mother stayed quiet but nodded. Froyd knew she was upset because her face was unnaturally stiff. He cried when he younger. He'd perceived his dad's treatment as neglect. But as he'd aged, he begins to understand, he simply didn't meet his dad's requirement.

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"It'll be alright Froyde. You'll do great, with him, or without him."

"Yeah. Love you, mom."

He left the car, took his bags from the trunk, tapped it, and his mother drove off.

Froyd made his way beneath the shed. He saw that John had sat in the first row of benches. John's luggage took up about half of it. A small crowd at the back was noisey as they took pictures. It looked like a lot of fun. Froyd smiled and waved at a few of them.

"I've got some plans for an adventure, dude. You up for it, or what?"

He took out a black sweater, he'd brought for the island and wore directly over his blue t-shirt. A surprise cold front was on the way, being near the sea made it feel like it had already arrived. John gave a fist bump. John was six foot. An inch or, two shorter than Froyd himself. His complexion was also about two tones brighter. He was stoutly built. After righting himself, Froyd tapped his ear. John got the message and took out his earpiece.

"Dude, I got a few things I want from that island. I need your help."

He said, beating his fingers on the bench, to the music. "Yeah, me too. This way we both get what we want"

"Alright. A couple of years ago, my mom told me about this beach. Her group made it with some unique spells. They left a book, in a little hut, with the spells. That, and some bush medicine, to take home, is all I want."

"So, we're going to check out a spell formation, and some body enhancing medicine?" He nodded. "I want some herbs too. More specifically for cooking."

"You're really taking that cooking thing seriously, then?"

"Yeah. Got to take what you put in you seriously, ya know? My church members are all into health, so if I getting enough seeds, I can make a quick buck." He said. "And the climate is weird over there. I hear plants can grow up to three times their regular sizes, maybe they're mutated by now?"

They'd discussed future goals from that point on. They'd been friends since childhood so there wasn't much they couldn't say to the other. Time flew by and, eventually, boat lights showed on the horizon.

.....................

The catamaran came in smoothly. The stern approached them; white, a hundred feet long, and fifty feet across. Someone jumped off the first, of the three, floors and fastened the ship, then did it two more times. The boat's mechanical ramp fell in front of the group. They all held their luggage nearby.

A double door was exposed, its parts were five feet across each. Gold on its borders secured glasswork. Purple, blues, oranges, and reds. It was a moral of Lione's Gem, a great reef that spanned over a hundred miles on Nada, Lione's largest island.

Two men walked out and held each side of the door. They were light-skinned young men, dressed in white robes. They revealed a long hallway that ended at a single door. A man in blue walked out, immediately followed by others, dressed in white. As he walked, he placed his hands within his cuffs.

"Come up, one by one." He spoke as he stood right in front of the exit.

There was a light above him. They'd finally been able to examine the man's face. He was old, at least in his seventies.

Froyd held both duffle bags in his right and removed his phone from his pocket. The boat's ramp was made of metal. On the back of which was rubber. He made it up and handed it over to his phone.

"Meet our minister." The receiver said. He walked up to the minister and introduced himself.

"Froyd Rolle."

"Jake Dorsette."

They shook hands. Froyd's folded up in his. Froyd smiled, the old man smiled, too, and then let go.

His hair was cut short, with signs of white growth in the bald spot.

"I know your mother and father. How are they?"

"They're both good, sir."

"I expect your dad to be rich by now?"

"He tries his best, sir."

The old man chortled and handed him a key.

"Room 210, on the second floor. Your roommate will be up shortly."

He retrieved his bag from the whites, the name they'd call the new inductees, and left.