The sights of the lighthouse island were both familiar and unrecognizable. The dry, rocky land had changed little, with patches of grass clinging to life amidst the salt-encrusted debris that populated the entire surroundings. However, what had once been a desolate place was now teeming with life, as people sought refuge from the chaos of the Rigg and other shattered lands.

Upon arrival, Macha confined himself to his bed, not only due to his physical injuries but also weighed down by his own despondency. His gloom stemmed from a deeper fear that had taken hold of his heart. He had witnessed formidable fights and relentless storms, yet the harsh realisation of how fragile and exposed his world was had shaken him. The disheartenment was short-lived, but his determination to carry on was as weak as his own legs. Despite his desire to find AhLong, he found himself aimlessly wandering around the island, with the conviction of setting sail towards the challenges ahead, but lacking the motivation to do so soon. It didn't help that the lighthouse keeper had been completely absent since their arrival.

Joy had mentioned that AhLong was very busy and once he finished his work, they would set sail together without delay. At the same time, Oleg, alternating between drunkenness and hangover, had somehow found the clarity to explain that the madman was completely obsessed with an important task in his warehouse. Locked up with a padlock and chain, he hadn't left the company of his birds for quite some time. Besides Joy's visits to bring him food, he didn't allow anyone to get close.

Macha finally reached the shore, but not before stumbling over a stone and then tripping over a piece of metal. Oleg, along with a group of survivors from the Rigg, was labouring to clear away the island's debris. As soon as Marie set foot on land, she assumed control of the island and downgraded Oleg to work on making some space for additional huts, a punishment for the ineffectiveness of his administration he took with resignation. AhLong, who was known for his inclination to question, criticise, and directly confront those who challenged his decisions regarding the lighthouse, was absent amidst his own tribulations and posed no issues.

Macha shuffled toward a group of sailors and rangers, their tools held tightly, as if they were weapons. Standing before the crowd with a stoic presence, Marie was accompanied by her new assistant, a girl whose talents appeared wasted on serving soup every day.

"Why do we have to share our houses?" yelled a dishevelled woman from the nearest decaying pier. A tall, equally filthy man stepped forward, brandishing a stick with a tip brimming with rusty nails.

"When you arrived, we offered you food and shelter, and now that we ask for your help, do you close your eyes? You are despicable!" Marie's assistant said, her voice trembling with rage.

From the floating villa, mumbling excuses and protests arose, but Marie's commanding voice silenced them all at once. "You took that wood from AhLong's work shack pylon, didn't you? That belongs to the Kingdom. And the coast where you've placed your houses is Kingdom territory. If you wish to live here, you must share. If you refuse, the ship departing this evening to the south has room. These men came to repair your roofs, not to threaten. Raise that stick again, and they'll return armed instead of with tools. The choice is yours."

Thoughts of Ced stirred within Macha's mind, his heart burdened with uncertainty. A small ship had been dispatched south on an expedition, assigned with the mission of locating any survivors. As he contemplated the fate of his friend, Macha couldn't help but ponder whether Marie truly possessed a heart of wood, as the men claimed, or if she simply concealed her grief beneath the weight of new responsibilities.

Marie strode away, muttering profanities, and raised a palm to halt Macha's questioning. It was evident that she was exhausted and preoccupied. Knowing that he asked the same questions day after day, she no longer made any effort to display the last remnants of friendship she had left.

Macha turned toward the shore, the rhythmic crash of the waves providing a sombre backdrop to his thoughts. "Marie received a note from AhLong this morning, Mister Macha," Marie's assistant said, startling Macha, who hadn't expected to be interrupted. The desire to inquire about the girl's name, to engage in casual conversation as normal people do in markets or taverns, or simply to savour a little moment of companionship felt burdensome. Instead, Macha tilted his head, silently signalling the girl to continue. "He plans to sail north in a couple of days. So be prepared."

"About time! I wonder what's been delaying him so much," Macha complained.

"If you want to see, go to the kitchen and get the bag of bones," Marie's assistant said, gradually backing away with each word. "Since I'm helping Marie, Joy is the one feeding the birds, but he won't do it until evening, and the guard won't ask."

As Macha expressed his gratitude from a distance, a sense of urgency compelled him to quicken his pace. The feeling of having wasted too much time compounded with the shame of not having done enough to prevent it. Depending solely on AhLong, the only one who knew where to go, was not his fault. However, he felt remorse for having acquiesced to AhLong's delay.

He tried not to dwell on how the birds survived on a diet of such and with a blank mind, retrieved the sack of bones from the kitchen. No one questioned him, not even the ranger guarding the warehouse from a distant post, who with a mere lift of the bag, granted him pass with a lazy nod.

"AhLong, it's me, Macha! I've brought your bird's food!" Macha said.

Bouncing things and engaging in muttering conversations with himself, AhLong was obnoxiously loud half of the time. The other half was the complete opposite. Two personalities coexisting within the same body: an extremely unpredictable jester and a silent predator whose menacing eyes always sent chills down Macha's spine and to him, neither of them was a pleasant person to be around.

Shouting his arrival once again, Macha impatiently welcomed the rattling of chains. There had been no protests or loud footsteps before the door creaked, a clear indication that the foolish side of the lighthouse keeper was opening. AhLong's face, smeared with grease and dirt, accentuated the intensity of his piercing eyes. The rest of him, equally filthy, emitted a potent odour of sweat, even stronger than the already pungent stench that emanated from the thousand bird’s nest.

"What ya want? Told Marie two days," babbled the lighthouse keeper, rubbing his face with a grimy hand and only making the mess worse. "Me no liar!"

As Macha's silence seemed like a persistent demand, AhLong grunted and cleared his throat, his tense body relaxing as his voice softening. "Alright, alright. Tomorrow, aye? Young Macha on important mission, we know. But we do important mission too!"

"What are you talking about?" Macha asked, unsure if he should have even asked. AhLong burst into loud laughter, indicating that his friendlier side was taking over. After giving Macha's shirt an oily pat that ruined its cleanliness, AhLong unceremoniously grabbed the fabric and shoved him inside. "You worry too much, lubber boy! Heh..."

Moving stealthily amidst empty cages and scattered debris, the old crazyhead motioned for Macha to follow him deeper into the heart of the shed. "My Petita is real quick! We'll make up for lost time, don't ya believe? AhLong never lies! Come, come, you'll see him soon ‘cause we're sailin' together. But keep it hush-hush, aye? It's secret!"

With cautious steps, Macha entered the dimly lit space, the air heavy with the remnants of past inhabitants. The chickens and pigeons, used to feed the many hungry mouths outside, had mostly vanished, leaving behind only a lingering scent of their former presence. The atmosphere was thick, and faint rays of light struggled to penetrate through the dusty air and tiny feathers floating around.

Curiosity mingled with caution as Macha sought an explanation for the inclusion of "we" in AhLong's words. Was it merely a mistake in his eccentric manner of speech? Or did it imply that his journey was to be shared with someone else? A flicker of hope crossed Macha's mind, the illusion that, for some inexplicable reason, Lim was hiding in this foul place. Yet, it was not only a remote idea, but a foolish one—a dream from which he abruptly awakened as he reached the centre of the warehouse.

The small work station, strewn with rusty gears, shattered machinery, and forgotten tools, resembled a separate room with walls composed of empty cages. As if emerging from the depths like a mythological creature, a terrifying figure rose from the corner, causing Macha to stumble and collapse onto a stack of empty boxes.

It became clear that the ´we´ AhLong referred to was not Lim or any other human being. Instead, before Macha stood AhLong's creation, an imposing being that surpassed human stature. Its slender body, entirely crafted from glistening metal, possessed elongated limbs adorned with thin, claw-like fingers akin to a beast's, while its oversized feet were wrapped in bundles of cloth rather than shoes. The skeletal machine's attempt at human clothing included pants that seemed disproportionately short for its long legs and a shirt that resembled more of a vest, barely covering its intricate frame. Its head, a colossal sphere constructed from the same metallic material, featured only two porthole lanterns, their flickering light simulating the blinking of two immense eyes. "Well, well, what a delightful surprise. Good to see ya again, Macha, you scallywag!"

“"M-Me? Scally... what?" Macha stammered. "Ro-Rob?"

"Correct. I've been informed that we need the help of Otoke, and it is your task to fulfil her old promise. Our forces are in dire straits, and time is of the essence. We also need to navigate the maze, so we will take you to coordinates thirty-four degrees, seventy-two west. Pigeon has been dispatched to arrange the meeting. We are currently two days, thirteen hours, and two minutes behind schedule. But fear not, instead of following AhLong's suggestion to go to the Wreck, we will adhere to my chart, heading north to twenty-two degrees, sixty-five, then veering right at forty-five, seventy-two, and left at thirteen, fifty, nineteen, two, left again at twelve, right at ninety..." Rob's words accelerated into a long, tedious stream, and only as he neared the end did he return to a meaningful speech. "By recovering one hundred percent of the lost time, and perhaps even more with a stroke of luck. Please let me know if you have any corrections to propose for the course. I will consider, although I will most likely ignore them, as my route is undoubtedly the most efficient and fastest. Ahoy, let us set sail, you landlubbers!"

Macha's gaze shifted to AhLong, who chuckled beneath his greasy cover. "I said his speaking is boring and strange. So he learning proper common from good old AhLong! Great idea, eh?"

AhLong was completely oblivious to irony or sarcasm, so when Macha agreed, there was no need to hide his mockery on the matter. "Did you also tell him he talks too fast?"

"Too fast and too much! He almost as chatty as Joy!" AhLong replied, giving Macha an incredulous look that triggered more talking from the machine.

"Do not be taken aback, my matey! You wouldn't believe how many times Joy can utter 'yes' in a single day! That was a jest, I am aware. I am honing my comedic skills, under AhLong's tutelage, exploring the intricate nuances of human humour. It is a challenging endeavour, but if my calculations hold true, I shall master it in ten days, two hours, and forty minutes..."

As Rob delved into another rapid stream of words, Macha exchanged a bemused glance with AhLong, who shook his head and pantomimed a talking hand gesture. "You may doubt my resolve, old sea dog, but mark my words! I shall be as quick-witted as daddy in due time!"

"Dear Ishna... is he always like this?" Macha asked.

"Nay, nay. Sometimes he quiet like Daddy, sometimes annoying like Marie. He different persons in one. Crazy machine is funny!"

"Certainly," Macha whispered, feeling a sense of dread as he realised the journey ahead would be shared with those two. His gaze wandered along cages and debris until it settled on the piercing glow of the machine's torches.

"He said I’m funny," Rob chimed in. "I told you, I am learning."

Macha mustered a forced smile, only sure of three truths: the darker side of AhLong might be more menacing but was more sufferable. The older Rob might be dummer but was less irritating, and, above all, the voyage ahead might be of greater significance than any other taken with Em, but it was not destined to be better.