The Crew stared at the ride called Rogue Wave, somewhat apprehensive. A wooden ship connected to thick metal beams swung back and forth as a terrible storm battered the hull and flooded the deck.

“And you’re sure this wasn’t here when you were?” Mel asked Arlo.

Barns leaned around the massive Tank to see the kid shake his head. “None of this was here last time,” Arlo muttered.

Looking around, the section of forest was a port. A wooden dock stretched across gravel lake beach, striking firm into the murky water. Opposite the dock, a group of buildings kept watch over the gentle waves. They were each a different color: yellow, green, orange, blue, and purple, but each were weathered by the overhead storm.

Barns recognized the illusions easily enough—he had to, many nobles utilized them in protecting their stuff. But where the noble used illusions to obscure a hidden doorway or cover a safe in a picture frame, the storm was something completely new.

Rain fell like nails. The wind ripped down the docks and storefront, echoing howls of unholy magnitude. A few steps backward, and the sun appeared overhead. But where the Crew stood, the sun was gone, and only apocalyptic dark clouds loomed. Bolts of neon blue lightning silhouetted behind the clouds, and booms of thunder rumbled the ground.

The buildings, again illusions, smelled of pine, beer, and salt. Their paint was worn and matted, their windows boarded with strips of wood and rusty nails. Lines gathered at two of them, one labeled “World Walker Churros,” and the other “Stormcorsair Harbor Odds and Ends.”

“What’s a churro?” Erin asked.

Mel sniffed the air, his goblin nose by far the most accurate in the Crew. “Smells sweet.”

The Crew meandered over and peered past the line. Inside was dry, filled with nautical items, and held a large vat of boiling oil. Barns recognized the woman frying the food but couldn’t place what she was making. It looked like long sticks of dough covered in a strange brown powdery sugar.

“I want one,” Erin declared, gently sniffing the heavenly aroma wafting from the storefront. She stepped into the line.

Barns sighed and took out his coin purse. The others snickered at him.

***

“Is this it?” Erin asked, ripping a hunk of churro with her front teeth and practically swallowing the thing whole. She happily groaned at the taste, simply melting from the sweetness.

Barns took a bite of his own churro, aptly agreeing with her. World Walker food sure is good, he thought as he studied the “ride” before them.

At the end of the docks was a tavern. Other than its size, the outward façade of the building looked just like the others. It was tired, perpetually wet, and smelled like beer. Or maybe, this building was the source of the smell. With its size, a balcony overlooked the docks and lake. People sat at tables, sipping meads and beer from wooden mugs held together by a few bands of scratched metal.

They laughed and sang, the illusionary storm giving the atmosphere a “tonight we die” vibe… or so Barns thought. They’re drinking like it’s doomsday. He looked at the near-black sky. Maybe it is.

On the outside of the tavern, a sign read “Whirlpool Tavern,” but the word “tavern” was scratched out by sword slashes, and the word “plunge” was etched underneath.

“I suppose so,” Barns said, taking the first step in.

Instantly, the group was transported. Gone was the howling storm and rain, and present was the sound of crappy music in a dingy tavern. The dark outside and lack of lights inside appealed to a certain type of clientele—people exactly like Barns and the Crew. Hardened individuals, people whodid not have much money to their names and all the pain associated with that. Dockworkers, in this case.

Before Barns could get two steps in, a man he recognized as an Emberwood villager shouted something at another Emberwood villager, prompting the second to toss his mug’s contents at the first. The first then yelled something obscene and threw a haymaker. The second dodged back, yanking up a chair and smashing it down on the first, sending him sprawling.

The tavern went silent, all eyes on the fight. The second man kneeled beside the first then yelled, “Tell me where the treasure is, you scoundrel!”

Barns perked up. Treasure? The word echoed in his mind.

“Never!” the first villager slurred, only to receive a punch in the face for his troubles. “Okay, okay!” He screamed. “Down the cellar and out the tunnel! You’ll find an enchanted boat! Get in, it’ll take you to the treasure! But I warn you! The curse of Blackbeard isn’t something to be trifled with!”

The second villager loudly grunted and started for the cellar. His smirk disappeared when a meaty hand landed on the back of his collar. The bartender, a man Barns recognized as Gr’rok—another villager—growled, pulling the second villager from the building and tossing him out into the street. Gr’rok then eyed the watching crowd.

“None of you heard that, right?” he asked, his tone low but his volume loud. “Cellar’s off limits.” He gave everyone present a glare before returning to his bar top.

It was then the first villager stood and practically pranced to the door. He motioned the second villager back in, and both gave a bow—like one of those theater actors the nobles like to watch.

A ruse? Barns asked himself. He looked at his friends, finding them equally confused.

Still paralyzed from the suddenness of the fight and announcement of treasure, the tavern was eerily silent. At least, until Gr’rok yelled from behind the bar.

“That was a show. Part of the park’s attraction.” He pointed at the cellar in the corner of the room. “You’re all supposed to head through there. Obviously.”

Now that Barns was aware of it, the cellar was rather welcoming. It was a big cutout, a far cry from the usual closet-sized tavern cellars he was used to.

“But you said it was off limits,” Mel yelled.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Gr’rok forced himself not to roll his eyes. “That’s the point.”

Mel squinted. “Oh…” He then trudged over to the cellar. He took a step down, then paused, looking back to Gr’rok. The barkeep shuffled his fingers forward like he was brushing Mel away.

The goblin shrugged and entered. The rest of the Crew followed.

Thick cobble stones lined the walls and floor, and illusions of skittering roaches and rats darted from crack to crack. Water dripped from the ceiling, pooling within the recesses. The scent of raw fermentation billowed from offshoots and storage nooks—bubbling barrels of wort sat wrapped in thick cloth.

Erin grabbed onto Barns as they made their way through. Similarly, Arlo and Wail stuck close, distracted by each other more than the decrepit hallway. Tank took the lead, with Mel one step behind the cyclops.

The path snaked away, eventually leading into an antechamber filled with chiseled statues. Barns noted the statue’s big bushy beard, connecting the dots.

“Blackbeard’s curse,” he muttered. “This must be Blackbeard’s smuggling route.”

As occasional smugglers themselves, the Crew recognized a secret passage. But the statues gave them pause. No self-proclaimed smuggler would create statues of themselves, which meant Blackbeard was no smuggler. This was something different, something more…

Cultish? Barns asked himself, not wanting to say his thoughts aloud. No reason to scare Erin, not yet, at least. Is the World Walker a part of a cult, or is this more “show?”

The statues each held a different item: a cutlass, compass, shovel, and a small chest brimming with riches. Yet, a fifth statue sat crumbed near the exit. What item it held, Barns didn’t know.

Stranger and stranger, he thought.

The hallway leading from the antechamber was similar to the first. Illusions of torches and hidden light glyphs lit the way, flickering the Crew’s shadows onto the rough walls. Blocked hallways kept everyone moving forward, but a quick glance through the debris showed a grisly sight—skeletons chained to the walls.

“This isn’t a smuggler’s passage,” Erin whispered. “We’re in a dungeon.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Barns whispered back, noting Arlo and Wail were holding hands. Mel and Tank, however, were not.

The Crew continued forward, eventually stopping behind a group of packed-in people. They were park guests, that much was obvious, but what were they standing around for?

“Um,” Barns said, “excuse us.” He tried to push past.

“Hey!” snapped the closest person. “No line cutting! Don’t make us get a park employee to kick you out!”

“Cutting? Is this a line?” Erin asked.

The person scoffed. “What’d you think it was? That we were just standing around for no reason? You saw the tavern had a sign for Whirlpool Plunge, right? You didn’t think you were just exploring for the fun of it?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Barns said. “We didn’t know what to expect.”

The guest rolled their eyes. “The pre-ride show wasn’t obvious? They were rather explicit in their storytelling.”

“Really?” Mel asked, his tone verging on irritation. “Cause the barkeeper had to literally tell us to come down here.”

The guest made a face. “Barkeeper? Not the two shadowy figures in the corner of the tavern?”

“The what? There was a bar fight, and the winner forced information about a hidden treasure from the loser.”

“For us, the show had two shadowy figures. One was loudly buying information from the other. Explained about the secret passage carved into the cellar and an enchanted boat.”

“We heard about the boat as well,” Barns said. “Did you hear about the curse?”

“Blackbeard’s curse, yeah. The information broker said he once carried an artifact that summoned storms—the same storms of the Stormcorsair Harbor.”

Barns hummed. “Then, the port was made to hide Blackbeard’s treasure. The curse is probably the dangerous seas the storm will surely produce.”

The guest nodded along. “The information broker mentioned that the enchanted boat always comes back empty. Anyone who rides must fall off and drown.”

Erin loudly gulped, her hand reaching for Barns’. “I don’t think we should be looking for the treasure, then.”

The guest shrugged. “Goddess Tippy blessed the park, should be safe enough.”

The passage eventually led to a ramp leading up. Emerging from an old outhouse, the Crew followed the slow-moving line onto a sandy beach. They switched back and forth like cattle in pens, eventually arriving at a small dock and the vast and rough seas. As far as the eye could see, water and the dark storm loomed.

Barns scanned for boats, finding—he gasped. Breaking through the waves, a simple rowboat appeared. It was empty—just like the curse said—and it magically floated on over to the dock where it stopped itself.

“Next aboard,” a villager said, standing with one foot on the edge of the boat. Barns recognized him as Franky, one of the oldest orphans.

A group of six guests climbed into the boat, sitting two in a row. The kids in the group loudly proclaimed adventure, while the adults gave them pensive smiles. It seemed Erin wasn’t the only apprehensive one. Franky then removed his foot, and the boat drifted off, disappearing among the spray of water and crashing waves.

The Crew stepped closer. Another boat came, empty again, then another. Group after group the line continued until it was the Crew’s turn.

“Barns?” Franky asked when he approached. “Hey man, long time no see.”

“Hi Franky,” the street gang leader said a bit lethargically. This was going to be the worst part of leaving Sneerhome—the pitiful looks from the villagers. Everyone in Emberwood surely knew of Barns’ criminal status, as well as his failure as a criminal. Despite all of the Crew’s escapades, it all came crashing down because of one spiteful old woman.

And yet, Franky’s smile only stretched as they punched each other’s fists. “It’s been like, what, five years? How’ve you been?”

“Good, good.”

“Are these your friends?”

“Hi!” Erin said, stepping forward with her fist out. “I’m Erin.”

Franky punched her and each Crew member when they offered greetings. “And you all are joining the park, eh? Security, right? That’ll be a nightmare for you guys! Can’t say I envy you!” He loudly laughed. “Some guests think they own the place! Just ask Luka if you don’t believe me. There was this father looking for a bathroom and this swordsman trying to get free food. Both made a scene!”

Franky clapped Barns on the back. “I much prefer working the rides. Just look at this—” he gestured around, emphasizing the open ocean. “I could stand here all day and watch the waves. I know it’s not real, but still. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Barns said as another boat appeared from the waves. Empty, again. “Hey, Franky, this ‘ride’ isn’t dangerous, right?”

“Hmm? No, completely safe. Luka stayed up all night testing it, and each time he jumped out, Goddess Tippy’s blessing activated and either allowed him to fly or kept him glued to the seat.”

“That…that doesn’t make me feel any better…”

Franky kicked his foot out, stopping the boat… or maybe the boat stopped itself and Franky just did it for show? “Either way,” he said, “time to set sail.”

Barns climbed in, followed by Erin. Arlo and Wail got the middle two seats while Tank and Mel took up the rear.

“I can’t see!” Mel yelled, sitting too low in the boat.

“I can,” Tank mused, speaking for the first time since the wagon.

“Well, la-de-da.”

Franky leaned over. “See that square by your arm? Press it in.” Mel did and was quickly pushed up—like a booster seat for children. “Luka and Aunt Sol worked for like an hour trying to figure out how to accommodate short people. Mechanical seat extender was what they settled on.”

“Did you say ‘short?’” Mel darkly asked.

Franky pursed his lips. “Did I?” Before Mel could respond, he pulled back his foot, letting the boat set off from the dock. “Let’s share some puff and catch up later! Bye Barns and friends! Keep your hands and arms inside the boat at all times!”

Barns turned and watched Franky shrink as they got further and further away—until a wave crested behind them. When the water settled, the dock was nowhere to be seen.

There was just an empty ocean.

A thought occurred. “Uh, are we supposed to row?”

Erin looked at him like he was stupid. “Enchanted boat, remember?”