After discovering I was nowhere near any of my friends, and meeting up with them wasn’t in the foreseeable future, I decided to start working on my quests. The side quest was definitely high on my list of priorities. No desire to do any dying. I could see no way at this moment to complete the main quest, which left me just the Local quest. Explore the island. Getting up, I brushed the sand off my body and looked around to decide which way I should go. My movement must have triggered something, as a warning popped up in my vision.

  

  [Dehydrated]

  ‘It has been too long in the sun and sea, your body is in need of fluids.’

  ‘Penalties to focus, stamina and regeneration, scaling the longer this debuff is in place’

  Decision made, I turned towards the stream and hoped it was drinkable.

  The stream crossing the beach turned out to be the overflow of a small lagoon, which had made a cut into the nearby forest before being stopped at a short five-metre-tall cliff. Sadly, it seemed the lagoon got flooded at high tide. Despite a waterfall cascading down the small cliff into it, and the fish circling in its depths, it wasn’t drinkable. I followed the edge around to the far side and stepped up some rocks to get closer to the stream. I couldn’t quite stand under the flow, but I was able to get within reach of one of the falling streams. I put a cupped hand into the falling water to take a sample, I gave it a sniff test, took a small taste…and then turned my hands into a funnel, directing it to my mouth and drinking my fill.

  Once my thirst was quenched, I started redirecting the water to flow over my body and wash the salt from my hair and clothes. I turned, trying to get the flow to hit my back and noticed something I hadn’t expected to see…a door handle.

  The door wasn’t locked, and despite letting out a squeak, it smoothly opened inwards. When it was closed, the seams just seemed a natural part of the rock, though now that I knew where to look, the irregular edges stood out a little.

  The path inside was lit by the occasional shaft of light filtering in from above through a ceiling damaged by nature, slowly reclaiming the space. Stone detritus litters the ground; at some point, someone had moved through the space and cleared a path. I could see scratch marks in places where a particularly large rock had been dragged out of the way. Water dripped occasionally, creating an echoing plink noise as it fell into a slowly growing stream that led deeper into the cave. One side of the room looked to have been carved from the rock, straight lines standing out in comparison to the rougher-looking opposite side. Roots from above, intermixed with vines drinking in what light they could, had broken through. In places, I could see where the roots from above had broken the ceiling, revealing rusty metal bars buried deep inside what I was increasingly convinced was concrete.

  The corridor cut left. The stream disappeared into a hole near the bottom of the wall opposite the turn. I stepped around the corner to reveal two ramps on either side of a short flight of stairs, leading up to what must have been the same height as the top of the cliff. At the top of the stairs, the room opened up into a well-lit space. The raw concrete wall continued on a distance towards a double door, but opposite it must have once been a large glass room like a conservatory or a greenhouse; half the glass was gone, vines hung down, and piles of leaves gathered in corners. The windows looked out over what must have once been a clearing, surrounded by several buildings, but the jungle was well on its way to reclaiming it all. Near one hole in the glass, someone had set up a cooking pot, hung from a tripod over the remains of a cooking fire. Not far from it was a rucksack, a five-foot-tall walking stick, an old fishing rod and a knife stabbed into a block of wood someone had used for food preparation. A camp bed had been set up in the corner under the most structurally sound part of the roof. Lying on the cot was a skeleton, one of its legs clearly broken and its arm almost pointing at a glass bottle, which, at a guess, had rolled away from it. There was a note inside it.

  Picking up the bottle, I worked the cork out and carefully removed the note from inside.

  ‘To whoever reads this.

  Be this my last will and testament.

  I lived a long and happy life and can think of few regrets in it, but the one which torments my final days. After burying the love of my life in the place which brought her so much joy and excitement, little brought me pleasure.

  In our first days of exploring this island, we came across the lagoon out back, and I do confess it is easily one of the best fishing spots I have discovered on any of these islands.

  With the anniversary of our marriage approaching, I thought to make her favourite meal in her memory. Roasted Fish. Old fool that I am, I fell and broke my leg. I managed to drag myself back to this cot, but my strength fails me already, and I can feel the end approaching.

  I bequeath all my worldly goods on this island to whichever kind soul that buries my remains, alongside that of my wife, in the mausoleum overlooking the Institute’s dock to the south and passes on my apologies to her Echo for failing to keep my promise.

  Francis McCoy

  Explorator.’

  Below the writing was a hastily but quite detailed drawn map of the island, with a cross on the southern side, not far from a cove surrounded by cliffs, a path drawn from a squiggle which resembled the lagoon.

  At some point, I had squatted down and found myself alternating between reading the letter and staring at the skeleton. Right in the feels…I nodded to myself, having made a decision.

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  Standing up, I checked out the rucksack. Other than a bottle I could use for water, once I had given it a good clean, I had no use for the contents, so I emptied them out. If the bones were anything to go by, it had been here for years, but the rucksack still seemed remarkably solid.

  With respect, I carefully packed the bones into the bag, finishing with the head last. I went to lift it onto my back and stopped. I looked over at the rod and made a decision. I changed my equipped title.

  I pushed open the doors from the shelter and stepped out into the Jungle. The pack was surprisingly comfortable; I had had to make some adjustments to the straps, but it was now sitting high up on my shoulders. The fishing rod, the knife and the two fish I had caught were safely stored in [Inventory], and the walking stick was in my hand. The thought of storing the remains in my [Inventory] seemed somewhat disrespectful, so I hadn’t even tried.

  He had been right, fishing in that spot had been very pleasant.

  The jungle was hot and humid. The heat felt oppressive and punishing. I was just a few steps in, and I was already sweating. Initially, I had thought the path to be compacted mud, but in places, the dirt had not quite covered up the smooth flagstones that it consisted of. My route had me curve up and around the hill that dominated the middle of the island. Pulling out my compass, I ensured I was heading south as I slowly rose above the tree lines.

  After about fifteen minutes of walking, the path levelled off. Now above the tree lines, a cool breeze helped to drive away the humidity, making the pounding of the sun just that bit more bearable. The path made for a relatively pleasant stroll, giving me time to enjoy the view. Below me, the trees created a dense green canopy down to the golden beaches below. In the distance out to sea, I could just make out other smaller islands of the chain.

  I continued to follow the path in a southerly direction until I crossed over a ridge, and the destination I’d been heading towards came into view. The hill split into two ridges that sloped down and curved into the sea, forming a wide, sheltered cove. Nestled within the cove, a small town of whitewashed walls and red-tiled roofs in a Spanish colonial style. Built in tiers, it rose from the docks at the water’s edge up the slopes. A single large building sat at the highest point, almost overlooking the town below.

  The path I followed came to a split, one moving down towards the large building, the other continuing on around the hill, heading further east and before, I assumed, turning back north. Heading south led me into the grounds of the large building, once a palatial garden, which was now overgrown with weeds. Just past the building, to my right, there was a set of stairs leading down into what I originally thought was a small walled garden, until I noticed what was unmistakably a gravestone, sticking out from the overgrowth.

  In the corner of the small graveyard, on the side looking towards the sea, was a small stone mausoleum building that I took to be the mausoleum. This building wasn’t constructed quite the same as the others I had seen in my approach. Smallish bricks, roughly carved from stone similar to the ridges, expertly put together by a skilled craftsman, yet still feeling roughshod in comparison to the neighbouring buildings. Inside, someone had laid out two sarcophagi. One was sealed, on its top, the following words had been expertly carved:

  ‘In loving memory

  High Explorator Wendy McCoy

  The Spark

  Talented Mage,

  Loving Mother,

  Patient Wife’

  Without saying a word, I carefully took the pack off my back and transferred its contents into the empty sarcophagus.

  It didn’t feel quite right to do it in the graveyard, so I moved out into the house's grounds, changed my title, and, using the wood I had collected on my walk, built a small cooking fire. By the time I had the two fish gutted and spitted, the fire had calmed down into what I hoped would be a good cooking temperature. Neither of the fish was particularly large, and just over 10 minutes later, I had a prompt informing me that I had successfully created 2 [Good] Roasted unknown Fish.

  I stepped into the mausoleum and placed one of the Fish onto the sealed sarcophagus.

  “Errrm, Assuming Echo is a ghost, he asked that his apologies be passed on for failing to keep his promise…” I put the letter and its bottle in with the man’s bones and tried to move the lid closed…it didn’t budge. I’d need to find something to lever it with, and turned towards the door.

  “Sort of, but then also not at all,” a voice spoke out behind me.

  I spun around in shock to see what could be described as a force spirit. A blue-toned, slightly translucent woman in her mid-30s to early 40s stood leaning over the open sarcophagus.

  “It is said that we all leave echoes of ourselves when we die. Ripples caused by our actions extend long after we have moved on. One of the side effects of the integration, for those who reach high enough levels of attunement, at least. We can leave a copy of ourselves when we die; we call these our Echos.”

  “Loveable fool,” she muttered. She turned and looked at the fish with an indecipherable expression on her face. “My romantic idiot.” She waved her hand at the fish, and it floated up into the air, across and then down into the open one. The lid, with a scraping rumble, shifted closed. On its surface, someone had crudely carved.

  ‘Francis McCoy

  Explorator.’

  “That won’t do.” She waved her hand again, and the words changed into a more elegant script

  ‘Here Lies Grand Explorator Francis McCoy

  Warrior without match,

  Father to loved children,

  Husband to a cherished wife,

  Hopeless romantic to the very end.

  “Now, you.” She turned to look at me. “Respecting his wishes, most of the possessions we had can be found in the large house. If you can use it, it’s yours. We always believed gear should be passed on, not sold. So I ask that once you find it is of no more use, and if it is still serviceable, please pass it on to someone who can make use of it. Now you did more than meet his last wishes; you also completed his last mission. That deserves a reward. Sadly, echoes fade over time. We can do almost everything we could while alive, but we can’t regenerate energy. Eventually, we run out. Once it is gone, we’re gone.” She flickered and appeared in front of me. “I can only offer you knowledge; unfortunately, I won’t last long enough to give it to you the traditional way.” She leans forward, and before I can react, her head penetrates my own.

  Once more, the world went black.