The plank beneath their feet shudders as Penny and Ren step off it and onto the jetty. Water laps against the pillars of wood, tons and tons of barnacles stuck fast to them. The wooden jetty eventually transitions into a stone pier, one that meets with other branching wooden jetties.

The port town of Calysso is quieter than Ren expected. While there are many boats, ranging from yachts to rowing boats, tied to the pier, there is not a single soul in sight. No fishermen, no people out on the beaches or on the pier. This isn’t a ghost town now, is it? If it is, then Lissa wouldn’t have bothered coming here, right?

“Here we are,” Lissa says, stepping off the plank, slinging her arms around Ren and Penny’s shoulders, shoving her face between theirs. “This is Calysso. Weapons, armour, ale, medicines, they’ve got everything. You can explore the town as much as you like.”

“You’re not going to send someone to accompany us? To make sure we won’t leave?”

Lissa barks out a laugh. “Look around you. Does it look like there’s anywhere to run?”

Ren glances about. She’s right. Surrounding the town is a giant mountain range, effectively cutting it off from any other parts of the land, if these “other parts” even exist. Lissa’s grin grows wider. “Besides, I know you’re going to be back.”

Without another word, she strides down the pier and into Calysso, leaving Ren and Penny standing by the rocking ship, while most of the rest of her crew makes their way toward the shops. Penny straightens her robes, casting glances towards the empty boats and the lifeless shops. “Come on. We should get stocked up too. I need to find myself a new weapon.”

Right. Mira was knocked out of Penny’s hand when she was still on the Cascasia. Ren hasn’t gotten Ifrit back, and for some reason, he’s feeling a little less than safe wandering about without a weapon on hand.

Ren reins in a chuckle. How interesting things can change in a matter of days, to feel unsafe without Ifrit in hand.

The first stop Penny has in mind appears to be a tavern; the shop is rather quiet—is it supposed to be at this time of day? Not that Ren can tell, with the sky a perpetual crimson. Penny pushes the doors open and reveals, unsurprisingly, an empty pub. Empty tables, empty chairs, the only person in the place a barmaid polishing glasses behind the counter.

“Hello there,” she says, in a meek voice. “The…The usual?”

“The usual?” Penny tilts her head.

“Oh, um…the rum you always order?” The barmaid shrinks back against the kegs behind her, taps fitted to each of them. “Are you with the…the Witches?”

“No.” Penny glances from her to Ren. “What seems to be the problem?”

The barmaid nods. “I…I’m sorry. It’s just that you have those cuffs on. I apologise for my conduct earlier. It’s just…the Witches are in town.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Ren asks.

“They’re pirates,” the barmaid says, as if that explains everything. “They steal, they threaten, they make a mess of things…Calysso’s always dreaded their arrival. Cascasia’s only just a tad bit better, though…”

Ren frowns. Looks like neither Lissa nor Captain Percival are welcome here. Not that Ren likes either of their company, honestly. They’re both overbearing in their own way.

“Where did you hail from?” the barmaid asks, curiosity sparked in her eyes. “We don’t get travellers here often…if at all.”

“Well…it’s a long story. We’re from Gravelle, all the way across the ocean,” Penny says. “It’s a little bit of a lengthy journey, yeah.” She lowers her voice and continues, “If you wouldn’t mind, there’s something we’d like to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“What do you know about the Devil’s Coffin?”

“The Devil’s…” The barmaid’s mouth drops open in shock as she regards Penny and Ren. “The Devil’s Coffin is… Don’t you know about it? The legend?”

“The legend?” Ren repeats.

“It’s a ghost ship that travels the great seas, and people say that whoever encounters the ship never return. It signifies death.”

The more they learn about this ship, the more Ren has to wonder: how are they going to take down a ship like that? Does Lissa have a plan? If their adversary is truly a ghost ship, then they’re going to be up against some undead warriors.

“It tends to sail around the Encantado Archipelago,” the barmaid says. “At least, according to Bart.”

“Bart?”

“Bartholomew. A cartographer, and a retired sailor. He’d be able to tell you more about it. He lives up on the hill, by the edge of the town” the barmaid says. “You’d better g—”

Before she can continue, the doors to the tavern bursts open and three people stride in—all women from the Witches. They barely spare Penny and Ren a glance as they stride up to the barmaid, demanding their rum in boisterous voices. The barmaid’s gaze darts to the door, and Penny and Ren take it as their cue to leave.

“Bart, huh?” Penny says. “And he lives on a hill.”

The only hill that Ren can see lies behind a rocky outcrop, a withered tree standing atop it. Its leaves are all gone, branches nothing more than wrinkly fingers reaching for the skies. Beside it stands a small wooden hut—that must be the house that the barmaid was referring to.

“There it is,” Ren says, gesturing at the hill with his unchained hand.

Penny straightens her shoulders. “Alright then. Let’s go and pay this Bart guy a visit.”

*

The hut is utterly decrepit. The well next to it is rusted beyond belief, with hardly a hint of iron under all that brown. The grass is overgrown, weeds crawling up the sides of the house. Ren wouldn’t be surprised if the barmaid’s got her facts all wrong and that Bart no longer lives here.

Penny raps her knuckles upon the door and calls, “Hello? Anyone home?”

A set of pattering footsteps has Ren jumping in surprise; he really hadn’t expected anyone to answer. The door swings open, and Ren stiffens. The man behind it hardly reaches his waist, and he carries a gnarly wooden cane, the wood a sort of reddish colour that complements the brownness of his drab, stitched outfit.

“State your business,” the man, most presumably Bart, says in a gruff voice.

“We’d like to ask you about the Encantado Archipelago,” Penny says. “Any chance you could—”

Bart sniffs. “Who’re you lot with? The Cascasians or the Witches?”

“Neither,” Ren says. “We’re just travellers.”

“Travellers? We don’t get travellers around here.”

“We’re from Gravelle. It’s a colony across the sea.”

“Across the sea, eh?” Bart huffs. He scrutinizes them, eyes falling to their chained wrists. “Nice try, kids, but I know exactly which pirate band does that.”

Penny looks down at the cuffs. “Uh…”

“Either that, or you’re into something very wacky,” Bart says without batting an eyelid. “But I’m betting my money on the former. You’re with the Witches, aren’t you? What business have you got with me, eh? Last time I got a visit from them, my place was ransacked.”

“Ransacked? For what?” Ren asks.

Bart shakes his head. “What else do you think pirates want? Riches and gold, of course. Well, I suppose the fact that you haven’t drawn any weapons on me is pretty telling. You guys are either new recruits or you’re being truthful with me.” He steps aside and beckons them in. “Come on. Wouldn’t want the rest of the Witches listening in on us.”

And so, Penny and Ren take him up on the invitation, shuffling into the hut and Bart closes the door with a light click. The room is dusty, and the wooden walls grey. There stands only a bed under a window in one corner, a dresser in another, and a table and chair, meant only for one, in the middle of the room. The pieces of furniture look like something that can be bought at a store for children, given their size. Although, they do seem to fit Bart to a T.

“Ain’t got much. I don’t expect visitors often,” Bart says. He gestures to the bed, big enough for both of the duo to sit on, before dragging the chair over and plopping down into it. He places his hands on each other on his cane, the tip of it stabbed into the ground. “So, what is it you want to ask?”

“Well, it was the barmaid that pointed us in this direction. She said that you know where the Encantado Archipelago is,” Ren says. “And we want to go there.”

“Why the bloomin’ hell would you ever want to?” Bart stares at him as if he’s grown two heads. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Devil’s Coffin!”

“Yes. That’s precisely why we need to go,” Penny says. “You see, Lissa told us that they’re going to sink that ship.”

“That woman’s either very brave or very foolish,” Bart mutters. “Look, that accursed vessel’s the embodiment of Death. It ain’t going to be sunk anytime soon. No one sinks Death.”

“Well, have you ever tried?”

“Tried?” Bart barks out a laugh. “Ask my crew, all lyin’ dead at the bottom of the sea. I barely managed to escape with my life, hangin’ on to some piece of driftwood. Was on the verge of dehydration when I washed up on these Calysso shores.”

“Was it powerful?” Ren asks. “Like, how did it attack you?”

Bart slams his cane to the ground, and the flimsy plank splinters ever so slightly under the impact. Ren jolts at the sudden movement, pulse quickening. Bart eyes them, from Ren to Penny. Scrutinizes them, even. “Look, I’m not sending two youths to their deaths, alright? What kind of Brownie would I be? A heartless one, that’s for sure.”

“But things might be different this time,” Penny argues. “We’re…we’re the Luminaries.”

Bart snorts. “Any old fart can come up to me and tell me they’re the Luminaries. The best part? They can’t prove it. No one can. Luminaries are a thing of the legends, and perhaps it’s better if it remains that way.”

“Why do you say that?” Ren asks.

“Look, that Citadel’s up there in that sky. What trouble is it causing us? Nothing. Why in the world would you want to take it down? Ever occur to you that crumbling that Citadel will unleash something even deadlier than this here apocalypse?”

Ren furrows his brow. Now, this is new. What does he mean, exactly? Something far deadlier than the apocalypse? The Four Horsemen are running around uncontrolled, and there’s something worse than that? Bart must have noticed their puzzled expressions because he harrumphs and turns away.

“Look. Don’t deal with matters that you have no business with, alright?” Bart says. “And don’t trust deities. Not all this four spirits nonsense. What good have they done us, huh?”

“Well, we came from Gravelle, and the spirit of the earth, Gaia, offers protection to the people who worship Her,” Penny says. “Think what you want, Mr Bartholomew, but the spirits are protecting people from the effects of the apocalypse.”

Bart tsks. “Spirits aren’t all good. They used to be human too, you know?”

Before Ren or Penny can object again, he sighs and stands. “Alright. Even I’m perceptive enough to realize that I’m dealing with two foolhardy children here. You want to know the location of Encantado Archipelago that bad?”

“Yes,” Penny says, eyes lighting up. “Please. Do tell us.”

Bart hops off the chair and his cane goes clacking against the wooden floor as he plods over to the dresser. He pulls out a drawer and rummages through its contents, parchment rustling as he does. He finds what he’s looking for—a scroll—and drags the chair over to the table.

“Come on. Follow me, children.”

“We’re teenagers.” Penny sniffs but follows Bart anyway. “We’re eighteen.”

“Bah! Barely out of your crib, you are, in Brownie years.” Bart’s eyes twinkle with amusement. He sits back in his chair and spreads the parchment out on the table. It’s a map, detailing the seas of Ilecthia, and even lands that Ren nor Penny have ever seen before. They recognize the Ashen Plains, where they sailed from. Familiar names leap out at them: Frosgott and Ruk’vahn. Ren swears he’s heard of those places before, but where?

“The other quarters of Zenthos,” Penny says. Bart chuckles.

“You know your stuff, young lady. Most people don’t leave their towns and cities, ever. Not with the world in turmoil as it is.” Bart jabs his thumb at what appears to be a peninsula, and the green dots around it supposedly represent islands. “There it is. Encantado Archipelago. Don’t be fooled by the name, though.”

“Why?” Penny asks.

“Encantados aren’t the only things that live there. Mermaids, Selkies, Kelpies, every manner of creature makes its home on these islands,” Bart says. “It’s going to be a dangerous trip, especially if you’re not prepared.”

Prepared, huh? They’re hardly prepared, Ren has got to say. Penny still needs to grab herself a weapon, and he needs to get Ifrit back. They also still need to figure out how to contend with both Cascasia and Devil’s Coffin. According to Penny, Cascasia should be fought near land. Near enough that sailors can swim to it and await rescue, perhaps by Calysso’s boats. And the Devil’s Coffin is most likely to appear at Encantado Archipelago.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the Devil’s Coffin’s assault on your ship?” Penny asks. “Anything at all would be helpful.”

“They’re ghosts, mate,” Bart says. “Only magic works, and even then, not all.”

“Then what does?”

“Strong magic. Strong enough to make sure they never rise again,” Bart says. “You have to burn their ectoplasm to a crisp like you do them Hydra heads, and for that, you’re going to need a lot of magic.”

Strong magic; sounds like something they heard fairly recently. Is that why Lissa asked for Penny and Ren to sink the Devil’s Coffin with them? Because of Ren’s “strong magic”? But she did say that his weapon’s strength leaves much to be desired.

“Well, that’s all I can really tell you, lads. The Coffin comes when you least expect it,” Bart says. He rolls the map up, ties it with a ribbon from his pocket and hands it to them. “This here’d be yours. I reckon you’d need it.”

Ren wonders how long they’d be able to keep it before Lissa snatches it from them and keeps it for herself. And with that, Bart shoos them out of the house. Just before he closes the door, Penny asks one final question.

“Where may we purchase weapons here, Mr Bart? I’m in dire need of one.”

“Weapons? There’s only one shop here that conducts that kinda business. It’s in the slums, underground. Betty’s the shop you wanna go for.”

And with that, Bart slams the door in their faces. Penny scratches her head. She turns to Ren. “Oh well, I guess we’d better get going. I think we’ve troubled Bart enough.”

“He was really kind.”

“Yeah, for how gruff he was. He’s one of those people who are cold on the outside but secretly very nice on the inside.”

“Like a tsundere?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

Ren bites back a chuckle. Penny and Ren make their way down the hill. They hear raucous laughter from the streets below, to find a couple of the crew drinking rum by the jetty and chatting with each other. At least Lissa didn’t sail off without them. Then again, those words that she said before she let them roam free whispers ominously in Ren’s mind.

“Besides, I know you’re going to be back.”

She knows that they’re not going to leave, not with the rock wall surrounding the town. Not when they still need the Witches to find their friends, whom they’ve left back on the Cascasia.

Ren pushes those thoughts aside. What will come will come. For now, he shall look to the present—they’re on their way to grab another weapon for Penny. Till she gets Mira back, whatever this Betty’s got to provide will have to do.

*

If Calysso’s pier presented the quaint scene of a merry seaport town, then the slums nearer the towering mountains give off a sort of sinister vibe. Ren glances from shadow to shadow as he and Penny step into an alleyway, clothes hanging from above their heads dripping with water. A small mammalian creature bounds off at their approach—one that resembles a cat with two tails—and bugs that were gathered around the corpse of a bird scatter. Ren pointedly averts his gaze from the gruesome sight.

Most shops are closed, but even if they were open, they’re pretty dimly-lit. Uninviting at best, and frightening at worst. Many of them don’t have names attached either, save for a few posters and wooden signs nailed to several storefronts.

Ren is not the best at directions, but he is certain that after what feels like an hour of walking, they’ve gone around the entire maze of the streets before winding up back at the entrance again, and yet, they have not seen hide nor hair of the weapon shop at all. Did Bart get his facts wrong? Did the shop close down or something?

“Hmm…” Penny rubs her chin, looking from one shop to another. “Something’s fishy here.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s supposedly a weapon shop here, but I’m not seeing anything. Hell, I haven’t even seen anyone on the streets. This makes absolutely no sense. The ratio of houses to people is too big.”

“Maybe they’re just hiding in their houses because the Witches are in town,” Ren says. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be hanging around on the streets.”

“Then everyone would be hiding,” Penny says. “But the number of people is not the issue I wanna talk about. The lack of a weapon shop is. We didn’t see anything that looks remotely like one, did we?”

Ren shakes his head. He had been keeping his eyes peeled, but he certainly saw nothing of the sort. Not even the tell-tale glimmer of a blade through a display window. “Maybe we should ask someone.”

They enter the shop closest to them. A man dressed in a bowler hat and tattered rags seated behind the counter, thumbing through a book of sorts. He looks up at their arrival, closes his tome, and clasps his fingers in front of him.

“Welcome,” the man says. “How may I help you?”

The shop they’ve stumbled in appears to be that of a butcher’s, or a fishmonger’s. His display shelf is filled with meat packed tightly into that of paper bags, meat displayed on hooks for customers to pick and choose from. Ren cannot even bear to look at a chicken (or, what he thinks is a chicken. In Zenthos, you can never tell.) dangling by its neck.

“We’re looking for a shop that sells weapons, called Betty’s,” Penny says. “Could you point us in the right direction?”

“Betty’s?” The man peers at them, running his fingers along his stubble-lined jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lass. This place hasn’t had a weapons shop in ages.”

“There must be one,” Penny presses. “The Witches come here often, don’t they? To buy weapons?”

Now that Ren thinks about it, that does sound familiar. Lissa did mention something to that effect. Weapons, armour, ale, and medicine, right?

“You’re with the Witches?” the man asks.

“Well, something like that.”

The man chortles. “I see. I should have guessed. Only the Witches would do that.” The man gestures at the handcuffs between Ren and Penny. “But you’re not really with them. Hostages, perhaps?”

“How’d you know?” Ren asks.

“Because if you’re truly with the Witches, then you’d know where Betty’s is,” the man says. “Which means that Lissa doesn’t trust you enough, and she always trusts her crew. She places her life on the line for them, and they do the same for her.”

She does seem like that kind of woman. It’s not hard to imagine her leading her crew into battle with a swing of that mighty mace of hers. She’d fight alongside them till they have to withdraw, or when their enemy is entirely obliterated. He wonders whether she did the same when she was married to Captain Percival. Although, she probably didn’t even have the chance, now that he thinks about it.

“Now, what Lissa doesn’t want you to know, she’s going to make sure the rest of the crew will keep mum about it,” the man says. He looks about furtively. “And when she’s in town, she’s got eyes and ears everywhere. I’m not going to risk my neck telling you things you’re not supposed to know.”

“Then we’ve got no choice,” Penny says. She turns on her heels, dragging Ren with her. “Come on, Ren. Let’s go. We’ll find it ourselves.”

“Wait, aren’t we—” Ren starts, but is interrupted by a cough from the man.

“If you’re really with the Witches, then you’d be able to weather whatever’s down there,” the man says. “That’s all I can say.”

Penny pauses in her tracks, her hand already on the door. “I see. Thank you very much.”

The man tips his hat and settles back into his seat. “You’re ever so welcome, young lady.”

The door closes behind them as Penny and Ren heads back out into the streets. Ren sighs. “So, we’re back to square one.”

Penny shakes her head. “Not quite. That last line he said was a clue.”

“A clue?”

“Yeah, and we need to find a manhole.”

A manhole? Whatever can she be getting at? There are plenty of manholes around, dotting the streets of the slums, but what does that have to do with the location of Betty’s shop?

Well, it seems like Ren is about to find out. Penny makes her way down an empty alleyway, and the shops on either side of the road are closed. She squats by the manhole at the farthest end of the street and squats, taking Ren with her.

“Help me lift this,” she says, and Ren obliges. The manhole is not that heavy, unlike what he expected. It reveals a ladder, as well as the pungent smell of sewage. Ren pinches his nose with his free hand.

“How far down does this go?” Penny wonders, frowning as she tries to peer through. How she manages to stand this stench is beyond Ren. His eyes already watering from the stink.

“I have no clue,” Ren mutters, before gagging. If Penny notices, she ignores it.

“Well, we’ll just have to find out,” Penny says. “But, um…how are we gonna climb with this?”

She holds up their joined wrists, and the chains clink together. Ren shrugs. Maybe they don’t have to find this Betty’s after all. Maybe they can ask Lissa for spare weapons. She’s sure to have got some on board, doesn’t she? Trophies or spoils from her attacks on other people’s ships? Maybe she’d lend it to them with a bit of begging…

“We’ve got to do this really slowly,” Penny says. “Right, Ren. Let’s hop to it!”

Ren can only hope that something good actually comes out of this…