Whilst joy persevered in truth, they marched onward.
A day earlier, when land was a mysterious spectacle, others walked in pure caution. Dangling leaves brushed their hair. Their spots had eyes within them.
Carrying a blue cooler in her hand, it sloshed in a golden miracle. Then she sneezed.
"Bless you," Kamil said within stubble, sweating through a tank top. His frog charm swayed with each step.
"Thank you, Kamil. We gotta get past these things soon. They get my allergies flaring like hell," Amaya said, adjusting her glasses. Turning, she asked, "Say, Lias, what are you looking for?"
Wearing all black, his red hair swooped to the side on top of eyeliner. "I'm looking for metals I can use for the ship. I just can't accept the ship is done for."
Kamil smirked. "Funny. I feel the same way for other things."
Lias imagined the forest as the dreaded hull. Every ray of sunlight was a blue light from an engine, every leaf was a lever, and every tree was a collection of metal.
He felt disappointed when he grabbed something, thinking he could work with it, but it melted when he used the soldering tool.
Lias distracted himself as he shook his head. "What's the cooler for, Amaya?"
Amaya tapped it as she spoke. "Every land that doesn't have a name has a chance of having that toxin. It's better to be safe than decay, you know."
Kamil remembered what she spoke of, and he took note of every passing tree.
The more they passed, the more spots they had. Some had dark spots which smelled awful, and others had golden spots which smelled like fresh fruit but triggered Amaya's allergies.
Lias flipped his hair. "It's odd you're with us, Kamil. I'd expect you'd be with Samir or Captain."
Kamil clenched his fists. "They're back at the ship. They'll be fine. But for some reason, I feel like this place isn't what it seems."
Amaya looked around. The forest seemed normal. "Elaborate," she said.
"I remember years ago, I was the first new crew member on board, and Malik was still layin' in a crib. On our travels to different rendezvous points for the Messengers, I'd see those trees and get that same feeling. Some were bright, and some were dark."
Lias asked, "So that means it's normal then?"
"Common is a better word. Normal... eh. But I noticed somethin' about these trees and the people that lived around them. Some of them were the happiest you'll meet, others scared to death. Some still can't let go of things that happened in the past, and others let go of things too easily."
Amaya speculated, "Wouldn't that mean you just met a lot of people with different personalities? There's all kinds of people when you travel coast to coast, at least back then."
"At the time I thought it was weird. I wrote it down every time I saw the pattern, and wouldn't ya believe it, results always aligned."
The trees hummed, and there were ants in single-file lines, all following different paths.
Kamil sighed. "But I could be wrong. Maybe there's somethin' more to it all."
They kept walking, passing an assortment of plants, as Lias scavenged for any possible parts to use in the infinite hull he viewed.
When the shade of large leaves hid the sunlight, he thought he would need to ask for a lantern. Instead he stayed silent.
Amaya joked, "Oh, you're really trying to find something, aren't you, Lias? I know I've asked this before, what got you into welding and building machinery and such?"
Lias stared at the ceiling of the hull, covered in leaves. "I wanted to build and put beautiful things back together, since I thought my life at the time had been destroyed. Then he saved me."
Amaya understood what he meant and decided not to ask him about it anymore. She remembered why she never got a clear answer, but she knew who he spoke of.
He wasn't here right now, so she would only get half the answer she was looking for.
Kamil noticed and shifted the conversation. "Look guys, doesn't matter how we got here. It matters that we're here, and we gotta get past it. If we focus too much on what happened before, we'll lose where we are now."
Silence settled. A flock of gull cries circled above the thick leaves. Lias noticed it, but he was too distracted with the azure hull to discern it.
Suddenly, when they peered at the trees, they noticed it this time.
Dark spots were corroding the wood of the trees, practically consuming it far worse than before. Its odor was foul, and it smelled like lies.
Above, the cries silenced. Their wings still soared, but in hushed beaks.
Amaya pinched her nose. "Ok, I take it back. The gold ones might've given me allergies, but at least they didn't smell like your welding, Lias."
Lias rolled his eyes. "I see how it is." He inspected the dark, empty spots, reminding him of what was missing. He saw the missing parts in the darkness, and he tried reaching out for it, but nothing was there.
Amaya laughed. "Oh c'mon! Not everyone's raised with those kind of fumes."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, dissociating. Then he saw something.
It blinked. It was a gift that brought a cold smile to his pale face.
Quickly he rushed, tool in hand, and he grabbed it.
"Yes!" He raised it in his arm like a gold trophy.
He held a motor in his hand, a part that could fit within the puzzle of the propulsion and thrust with enough care.
It looked too clean, like it was brand new, only rubbed with dirt.
"I told you guys I'd find something, and you told me to be realistic." He mimicked their voices as he spoke.
Kamil gave an endearing grin. "See how I said things will work out eventually? You can always strike gold even in dull places."
Lias scoffed. "Dull doesn't always mean bad, Kamil."
Kamil peered closer at the conniving motor, as if it mocked him in Lias's hand. "True, but even gold's deceiving. Reminds me of how he acted when he jumped out first."
Amaya turned her head. "You mean Malik? He did act a little too happy now that I think about it."
Kamil added, "It's not about how happy he was. It's more like the land welcomed him, but it tried to push us away."
Winds breezed smoothly, as the leaves caressed each other, forming a melody reminiscent of connection, only natural.
They walked aimlessly, attached to a hope of reconstruction.
Lias felt misaligned with the outdoors. He didn't enjoy the musk of the forest.
The sky above began to bruise purple. And from it, a bright presence was imminent.
He imagined rebuilding the machinery in his mind, but looking up, a distinct cry of harmony flew.
Whirr.
A white harmony, with a mechanical cry, like the hum he recognized.
Lias saw it before it saw them and immediately shoved the other two further under the shade.
It flew, its beady eye seemingly snapping a picture. Then it whirred, disappointed as it went to its next destination.
Amaya gasped. "You almost gave me a heart attack, Lias! What the hell was that for?"
Tightly holding his welder, he put a finger on his mouth, signaling.
They understood and quickly wrapped their bodies around the trees. They now saw the gold and black eyes and were up close and personal.
The spot of a golden eye was bulging, bright, and youthful. However, it looked like it told lies only with a glance.
The spot of a dark eye was dull, tired, and nearly shut. But it looked honest to a certain extent.
Lias muttered under his breath, "That thing isn't a seagull."
They waited another second to make sure it wouldn't return. After a brief moment, they got their stuff and walked carefully this time.
Tiptoeing, avoiding every branch and blade of grass that lay on the ground waiting to be crushed under their feet.
The sky of bruised purple blended with mauve, on the brink of nightfall soon enough.
Lias held tightly onto the smiling motor as he maneuvered through a collection of engine-like trees with hanging levers.
Kamil snuck about, making sure the shade covered him. He asked, "Lias, if that isn't a seagull, then what is it?"
Lias responded, holding the motor like a blade. "I'm not sure, but I recognized that sound. There was no life in it. And it flew like it had only one purpose—to observe."
Amaya hugged the cooler with both palms. "I get the weird feeling that whether it might be trees, seagulls, or that storm from before, it all connects."
Kamil agreed with her but withheld his words. He decided that right now wasn't the right time to speculate.
He noticed dread in their faces, and he shut out the rudderless sentiment in his heart.
He ordered, "Right now, we have to move. Can't get lost in another maze like this forest."
They copied, and Kamil led the way.
That old Cap would've wanted me to take action. If he's not here, then who else would fill that role?
As time passed, their steps became calmer as the seagulls hadn't returned.
. . .
Later, night fell.
The once-mauve afternoon soon corroded into the blackest night. There were no lights guiding, no aurora, only what felt like an eternal eclipse.
They gathered a bunch of sticks and broken logs, and Kamil formed a bonfire with enough friction.
Lias set up the tent, as Amaya scouted about the dark forest, scrounging for any materials.
After they established their spot for the night, they softly sat on the ground. They spoke in hushed voices, as if even the ground would be listening.
"We gave the others enough materials, right?" Kamil asked.
Lias scanned through his bag, grabbing random rusty metals, short poles, and old hammers at once.
Amaya answered for him. "We did, but what I'm worried about is that they keep it together here. Anything can happen in this darkness."
Exhaling, Kamil nodded. "But they've got the only person who claims to see through that darkness. If anything, we should be worried about ourselves."
Amaya placed her hand on her hip. "You think he sleeps well at night, through all that light?"
"Rarely. But I don't think it's the light that bothers him. I'd go as far to say it's what keeps him dreamin'. Good dreams? Unlikely. Bad dreams? Probably," Kamil responded, fiddling his frog charm.
After a moment of silence, they both stared at the bonfire, their only source of light on this enigma labeled an island.
Meanwhile, Lias rubbed together pieces of metal and welded them together, forming the skeleton of an engine. He also formed a tube-like metal with the tool which seemed like a thrust.
From his bag, he grabbed what appeared to be a miniature model of a propulsion. He spun the propeller like a windmill with a look of frustration.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his makeshift propulsion and carefully inserted the motor inside a gap. Then, taking the thrust, they clicked as they merged together.
He looked around the hull and the blue lantern surrounded by bolts that allowed him to see in the dark.
Grabbing a nozzle-like pump from the emptiness of his bag, he felt sweat drip off, but he persisted.
Wrapping it around, it carefully traveled the steel crevices and made its way to the propeller.
His eyes bulged in surprise, and quickly he took a thin metal rod and inserted it between the gaps, expecting the motor to run.
All of a sudden he heard the machine start. It began to whirr full of life.
A smile almost crept to his face, as the machine smiled back. It didn't smile proudly; it more smiled with pettiness.
Then it dismantled. Bits of metal and a broken motor sprawled across his lap.
It took a second for Lias to process. Then the smile that dared to creep had become neutral once more.
He scattered the bits of metal off his lap and facepalmed, even letting go of his soldering tool.
"Stupid! Stupid! How could I have ever even thought that would've worked?" Lias slapped himself in the face.
Looking around again, he didn't see a hull anymore. He saw a campfire, trees, and a black sky.
He refused to look at the metal around him as he stared further into the blaze.
Kamil tried to calm him. "You did the best you could. Don't beat yourself up about it."
Lias muttered with disdain, "You don't understand. I'd spent countless hours making those before everything went downhill. And lo and behold, everything crashed down at the worst possible time."
He continued, "It's almost like this place is laughing at me. It gave me what I needed to have a chance at starting this ship again, but it seems like it broke because it felt like it."
Amaya tried de-escalating. "None of this is your fault. Nobody would've predicted that entire machinery would've just vanished."
"Methodically, perfectly even. It was surgically removed by a scalpel without any struggle. I made smaller substitutes, and the real things weigh hundreds of pounds. They've beaten us on all metrics now."
"Who's they?" Amaya inquired.
"Whoever did it. That flood? Sure, maybe it could've been the storm. That hull? That was anything but a coincidence," Lias spoke, barely keeping his words together.
Amaya shook her head. "But it doesn't make sense. If we've been on undocumented waters, how could anybody have gotten there and found us?"
Suddenly, a light lit up in Lias's head. "Do you think it could've been those pirates?"
She interposed, "I don't think they were adamant on keeping us alive, considering they launched a cannon at us."
Lias murmured, "It all goes full circle."
Kamil stayed quiet, Lias submerged his eyes in the fire, and Amaya kept her cooler close.
The dark forest began to whistle in soft breezes as only their breathing prevailed.
A quiet one they haven't heard in a long time, and one they didn't know they needed.
In spite of that, it would rather respond than only listen.
Suddenly—
Gurgle.
. . .
A chewing. Far too grotesque to be natural.
Kamil waved his hand for them to stay put.
He grabbed a log, and it absorbed the bonfire, forming a flame that lit the way.
They all smelled that odor, that odor of dull shadows.
Kamil carefully walked out in the direction of the sound as the others watched his back.
Holding the log like a lantern, it pointed forward into the gloomy night.
He thought it could've been an animal. He hoped it was.
Then he scouted, making sure he wouldn't step on a fallen branch.
When he thought there was nothing to worry about, he saw it at the corner of his eye.
It was chewing, gnawing at flesh. Its unnerving groans as it swallowed continued.
Kamil's eyes widened. He saw its figure devouring.
It was consuming a body, all too human-looking.
Kamil noticed a keychain on the body. It appeared to be a man.
It was shaped like a heart, and it was one only a father would wear.
He froze. Then it turned around.
Its empty eyes stared, as its mouth was stained in blood. It wiped the pulped organs off its decrepit mouth.
When it saw him, it stood up. It didn't growl; it more weaned.
Kamil stepped back and held the torch like a mace.
Regardless, its uncanny figure kept moving.
Even with the fire, one can't discern what it is.
Instantly—
"Get away from me! What the hell are you!?"
. . .
Crunch.