Everyone felt a lot less tired by sunset, though the sailors agreed that it was best to wait until morning before beginning their journey into the island’s unwelcoming depths. Granted, time was precious, and it wasn’t like they were completely safe on the beach, but delving into the jungle at night would have been even riskier.

  A small campfire burned amidst the sleeping men, giving the fine sand a rich, golden hue. Many had argued against lighting the flame up, of course. The hardened seafarers didn’t really need it for warmth, nor did they have any food to roast over it, so nearly half of the group had insisted not to risk attracting any nearby beasts. The rest had convinced them that it would be better not to fight the monsters in complete darkness, should any choose to attack anyway.

  Marnok was among the few men still awake. Heeding Micky’s advice, he’d volunteered to join the small team on guard duty. It was the best way to take advantage of their Insomnia trait without revealing its existence to anyone else, allowing them to continue working on their projects. They’d have to pretend to sleep tomorrow, of course, but that was neither here nor there.

  Micky had also told his host not to activate the new core immediately, as it could draw unnecessary attention from friend and foe alike. Either way, Marnok was still about a day away before he was done clearing enough channels for it. Micky wasn’t much closer to forming a stable rune inside their first core either.

  “Eatin’ that crap will give ya the runs,” the sailor with the red bandana told another, drawing Marnok and Micky’s attention. The man had kept his voice low so as to not wake up everyone, but his words couldn’t escape a Yellow’s ears from only a few metres away if they weren’t sleeping already.

  The second person was munching on a pile of seaweed that the waves had washed up. Micky found the notion of eating the slimy leaves disgusting. Not to mention that he personally wouldn’t have dared to step any closer to the dark waters, afraid of the abominations that might still be lurking in their depths. The fact that the rising tide had brought the sea closer to the group over the past couple of hours certainly didn’t help with his paranoia.

  Marnok’s crewmate didn’t seem to care about the danger in the slightest. Nor did he appear to mind the texture of his meal. “Better this than starvin’. Unless ‘ny of ya is hidin’ more of ‘em crackers, ‘tis all I’m goin’ to get tonight.”

  The sailor was referring to a funny scene that had unfolded on the beach earlier. One of the others had secretly tried to eat a small pouch of food that he’d managed to bring out of the sinking ship. The seawater had turned the crackers soggy, though that hadn’t stopped him – nor had it deterred the naked guy from wrestling him for the food. In the end, they’d split the meal, but only after providing some much-needed entertainment to their crewmates. Marnok chuckled, as did the man with the bandana, though nobody said anything else.

  Micky wasn’t as worried about the food as the rest of the group, carrying some rations in his spatial seal. He didn’t have too many – they would barely last Marnok a week or two, so sharing them with anybody was out of the question.

  Either way, Micky’s host was going to outlast his crewmates if they failed to find anything else. Then again, that wasn’t a good outcome either. Marnok would find it exceedingly difficult to survive on the island by himself – relying on nothing but a pair of Yellow cores.

  ‘Fingers crossed for a good affinity,’ Micky thought.

  A rare or composite mana type would be best – especially if it was one that he was familiar with. He’d even settle for water to fuse with air into ice, or anything solid that he could more easily draw runes with. Of course, the Moirais’ Decree had never much cared about his wishes, so he was under no delusion that it would start listening now. At the end of the day, they’d have to make do with whatever they got.

  He was about to resume working on his project, when somebody sat next to his host. It was Flammy – the life user that had tried to heal them as soon as they reached the island – and who Micky guessed was Marnok’s close friend. As if to confirm Micky’s assumption, his host leaned closer to the healer, whispering in his ear. “Thanks for the treatment earlier.”

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  Flammy grinned, his golden teeth glinting as they reflected the playful flames of the campfire. “Don’t sweat it, mate. I’m a wee bit surprised ya noticed though. Felt like me mana vanished the moment it entered yar body. Wasn’t sure it did anythin’.”

  “Nah… I definitely feel better now,” Marnok replied vaguely, not bothering to explain the Decree’s shenanigans to his friend. “I ‘ave to admit, I didn’t expect to see ya alive and well on the beach. Thought the fish would ‘ave eaten yar face off – given yar affinity and everythin’.”

  “Got worried about me, did ya?” Flammy asked, his grin widening.

  “Worried? Nah… Would ‘ave been an improvement,” Marnok replied, cracking a smile of his own.

  Both men burst into laughter, before Flammy moved to a more serious topic. “Say, did ya buy that crap about the Cap’n gettin’ drunk?”

  Marnok shrugged. “He was always drunk – that much I ain’t doubtin’. Not so sure about ‘im getting the ship wrecked though. Ol’ Harrosh knew ‘is shit better than ‘nyone I know. He could ‘ave stirred that boat into a storm while sleepin’, and I’d ‘ave bet on him makin’ it to the other side in one piece.”

  Flammy sighed. “So, ya also thinkin’ somethin’s fishy?”

  Marnok shrugged. “‘Tis Robari, mate… There’s always somethin’ fishy goin’ on…”

  Flammy nodded. Patting Marnok’s shoulder, he was about to stand when Micky’s host grabbed him. “What’s yar plan, Flammy? Ya still interested in the treasure?”

  “What choice does ‘ny of us ‘ave? Commodore’s goin’ to skin us alive if we fail. Besides, me family in Ravisport’s gotta eat. Why? Ya thinkin’ of bailin’?”

  “Bailin’, no,” Marnok said, shaking his head. “Where would I even go? We’re all stuck ‘ere ‘till they send ‘nother boat lookin’ for us. Just thinkin’ we should be focusin’ on survivin’ rather than treasure. We can worry about the Amber later.”

  “Ya heard the others, Marnok. Two’s the same thing now. Can’t get food without goin’ in the jungle. And… if we go in the jungle ‘nyway, might as well head to the tomb.”

  Marnok nodded, begrudgingly letting go of his friend.

  ‘Are you all in this to feed your families?’ Micky asked once his host was alone again.

  ‘Most of ‘em are,’ Marnok said.

  ‘Not you?’

  ‘Ain’t got a family no more. Not since the Lys-Clair fleet raided Narrisport ‘n butchered me wife ‘n kids. Now, I’m just hopin’ to help Commodore Vent-Noir get strong ‘nough to kill that Lys-Clair fucker. Still, I ain’t desperate ‘nough to throw me life aside on a random island for no reason neither.’

  Micky nodded internally. He hadn’t realized how intense his host was. Evidently, offering him a ticket to the Vault to save his ass was probably off the table. Not that Micky wanted to spend his vacation dealing with Metatron. He’d have to go back to the artificial world sooner or later, but he wasn’t quite ready to clean up the mess he’d left there the previous time. Besides, he’d rather make some progress with his current project first, to get a better idea of what books he’d need to buy from the cube for the next step.

  The rest of the night passed uneventfully, though Micky doubted that they’d keep getting this lucky.

  Once the sun was up – and all the sailors with it – the group started walking along the coast, circling the island. This was arguably going to take longer than heading to their destination directly, but they wanted to travel the shortest possible distance through the jungle, as that was easily going to be the most dangerous part of the journey.

  Nobody spoke much – all the seafarers probably trying to preserve as much of their strength as they could. That suited Micky and his host just fine. It was mostly quiet, save for the sailors’ muted footsteps on the sand, or the soothing sound of the waves washing against the coast, allowing Micky and Marnok to focus on their tasks.

  Micky managed to whip the concealment rune into shape multiple times, though the enchantment never survived more than a second or two, leading him to believe that he would have to come up with some other trick to get this to work. As for Marnok, he’d already cleared over two-thirds of his new channels, bringing him that much closer to discovering his second affinity.

  The relative quiet served them better as a group too, since it allowed them to keep their ears open to any potential threats. It also helped Micky notice something else, however. Something that he found more than a little odd.

  Three of the sailors were coughing.

  Not much – it was just a light cough every minute or two. Thinking back, Micky realized that two of them had started since the night before, though nobody seemed to have paid much attention to it. Micky probably wouldn’t have noticed it either, under normal circumstances.

  After all, it had only been the Orange-borns at first. Their bodies weren’t that much stronger than a Red’s, and they had just swum out of a shipwreck earlier that day. The water hadn’t been very warm either, so it was entirely conceivable that they’d caught a cold.

  ‘But why has the Yellow-born joined them?’ Micky wondered.

  It was the same person who had eaten the seaweed while on guard duty – which again, Micky would have chalked up to food poisoning, had it happened in isolation. Still, he didn’t think this was a coincidence.

  ‘Better keep my eyes open,’ he decided. He couldn’t put his finger on it just yet, but he couldn’t shake a strange sense of unease from creeping through. Something about this place was off…

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