The rain pours down in cold sheets all around you, but you remain impervious to it. A blessing, or a curse, of being a saltborn creature. The elements never affected you the way they did regular humans, or other people. Nevertheless, visibility remains poor, so you shield your eyes as you make your way down to the Cradle Lighthouse, where you first started your journey.
The walk through Skyspear Climb is long and arduous, and you know that this detour is a fool’s errand. Time was monotonic, and the chorus grew louder and louder. But something about the old man’s plea compelled you honour his wish. A whole day passed, filled with nothing but walking. The island was mostly devoid of trainers now. The infection had taken over every human being. Only Suit and his players were left. And even then you were not sure if the players were just mere conjectures to satisfy Suit’s needs. Red was gone, killed by your own hands. And that just left the old man.
You kept walking and walking, your mind consumed by thoughts. And before long, you arrive at the pier. He was there, looking over the sea. You place yourself beside him and join him in his silent survey. The sea looked… angry. Despite the cold rain, you feel a strange kind of heat emanating from it. Seamother…
After a few moments of standing in silence, the man spoke.
“I was created for a purpose, same as you were, same as any Wanderer is. And I took that burden willingly, same as you did, when I rose from the shallows.”
You are silent, waiting for him to continue. His gaze over the sea seemed to grow longer.
“I shed that burden willingly, when I met my daughter, Kara.”
“I do not know by which method or madness she was never infected. I knew that she wasn’t a Wanderer. And yet, she was safe.
For a time we looked after each other. At first, it was difficult, living with a human. They have needs and wants that are simply not in their control. Food, for instance. I learnt how to fish so that I could satisfy my daughter’s hungers. It wasn’t perfect, but we survived. But such a survival was meaningless. I knew that. And I knew my Kara knew that too. But I never expected her to confront the matter in the way she chose to do.”
He paused, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“One day, she told me she’d made up her mind. She would challenge the Champion. I refused, of course. But she was not one to be shackled. My anecdotes could only strengthen her resolve, instead of breaking it.” He let out a short laugh. “In that regard, she was more of a Wanderer than I was.”
“We fought; I told her she couldn’t do it. And she set out to prove me wrong. It has been ages since we last spoke.
He turned to face you. You turn your gaze upwards to meet his eyes. They’re filled with a strange sort of resignation.
“I don’t know if she has forgiven me, and I don’t know if she can. As a father, I had only one purpose: to prepare my daughter for what’s to come. I like to think I have succeeded in that regard. But that purpose is at its end.
And as a Wanderer, I gave up my role when I chose to shoulder the responsibility of raising Kara.”
“…You’ve fought Red, haven’t you?”
You are surprised, you clutch your bag protectively, where the Azure Flute rested.
He chuckled. “I met Red a long time ago. When he too, was like you. Full of energy and vigour, and a wish to see the champion gone. But then he found out about the truth of the Island’s woes. And his spirit broke. When I last saw him. He said that he was going to wait out the rest of the island’s days with Arceus. But he’s gone now… and you have the flute with you.”
“I’ve told you my stories. That’s my offering to you, as a fellow Wanderer. As a father, I only ask you to exercise caution. The monster will not be easily defeated. But my time is over as well. I have one last request.”
In that moment, when he caught his breath, you realise what he’s about to ask of you. And you decide right there that this was one wish of his that you couldn’t-wouldn’t honour.
“No,” you say, your voice hoarse from disuse.
The old man looked resigned. “I understand. What I’m asking is not easily done. But…”
“No,” you say again, more forcefully this time. “This has gone on for long enough. I will not kill another. The only one that deserves to go,” your voice rises, and with it the finality of your statement falls upon the both of you with a hammer. “Is the monster.”
For the first time since you’ve met him, the old man seemed truly surprised. “I… knew you had a fire in you, a willingness to overcome all odds no matter what, but this…” he trailed off.
“Red’s death will not be in vain. My journey is nearing its end. And after, we’ll go, together to search for Kara. I promise you this.” You speak with so much conviction, you wonder if you’re trying to convince yourself of your words.
The old man turned his gaze towards the sea. “Very well, then. I will wait for you here. Now go. Time is running out. I wish you farewell at the Journey’s End.”
You catch a final glimpse of his figure, tiny against the sea, as you’re swept up into the clouds by the Memory of Flight.