Beyond a grey misty sky, rain trembled and darkened the grass. Daisies overtook stubbier pathways. Tatun, floating as a fragment, felt the grayness cast an obscure omen over anything in its direction. Anything with intelligence deciphered its intentions. Grey turned to pastel blue eventually, and would allow the green and white on display. White was always a good omen, and it never left the valley. Not a flower nor fairy had shriveled up in millions of years. However, Tatun came through the tall, distant hills with a ominous mind. The universe would laugh, as nothing could crack its fibers.

  Towards the edge of the slowly formed mesa, eighteen straw huts and an unlit fire held the duration of the elements from destroying the village. An outrigger canoe sat at the bottom of the hill on an infinite lake. River paths extended, its wooden structure and white sail growing Tatun's interest. Reaching the lake and inspecting the frame, a traveler exited one of the houses. There were consequences to being spotted. The traveler pushed through the storm and reached the boat. Looking it up and down, they tilted their head covered by a vague deer mask.

  Not only was their boat empty, but was now a darker yellow, its white sail with a black line in the middle.

  They turned around, and said "such an odd occurrence. Not one ship that traversed the planet looks like this."

  Hesitant, they stepped inside, their heart sinking realizing that everything was missing. The village leader stepped onto the short dock. Inspecting the waters, a light aura surrounded the two and the ripples around glew a white-ish gold. He removed the rope from the rails and let go. With a wave, the chief in a fish mask watched them leave. His eyes shone a bright yellow underneath. Slowly, the storm parted and the sunset came to view. Some dark clouds now had a pink tint, the sun and the horizon's colors quietly drifting through the sky.

  The traveler adjusted the sail to their liking. It already seemed well fixed, but everybody had a preference. As they took the trail through the right side of a forked path, the water seemed to speed up a little. Small luminescent stones lit up the shallow floor. Blue and indigo captivated the traveler, miles of it to be anticipated. They had taken this trail fifty times and had never dealt with this, not even in the growing night. The village of Volum never shone.

  Their now light golden boat joined the lights in glow, and the traveler awed. "A sorcerer has to have cursed my canoe. This is impossible."

  Just as lights ended at another water body's shores, without consent, the boat sharply steered right. The traveler stumbled, holding to the thin mast. "Quit it, there's no currents, you-"

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Whatever was on land had triggered their seemingly non-sentient boat. Luckily, their deer mask did not crack in the struggle. Searching through an obviously empty boat for the issue, their foot kicked open a long, almost large compartment. Inside was an equally fit black box. Upon inspection, the traveler let their hands feel down a long, overgrown staff. This would be useful for the future, perhaps. There was nothing here to see, so they tried to get back on; only for a mysterious force to push them away.

  Suddenly, the rather large line opened up into a black colored eye. The traveler had already seen enough by now. Taking the staff, properly handling it and casting, the barrier disappeared.

  "I'm growing impatient, you poor voyager." the traveler spoke.

  The eye stared down upon them, before taking a hard right side eye. Looking in its direction, there were some rapids they had attempted to avoid many times.

  Sighing, they replied, "do not surprise yourself if we both perish."

  Rain returned where it had been at the village of Volum. Instead of the downpour, it was light and bearable. Upon contact with the rapids, they seemed to clear the way. With surprise, the traveler wondered what this thing even was. How could such a take on the dark arts even take the form of a ship, and not a divine entity of sorts? Every direction the eye turned seemed to steer the two in one direction. Waters relented at their passing, and the traveler took the time to listen in. Worry had caused them to never think, just push through.

  Calming crashes against the shore where the rapids didn't contact the boat soothed their wary mind. Tatun finally came to a decision to stop as they finally reached another forked path. The traveler stared up at the eye; it did the same back, so they observed the surroundings. Each one lead to a dead end and a trail through the pine trees. Arches provided a slightly glamorous entrance for the traveler and their boat, but they were mossy and covered in gloomy, dark flowers. These did not glow in the presence of the boat, to their surprise.

  The moss shone a pastel green, however, and it was possible the flowers may have died. Not turning back to double check, the anemones let out a small portion of black smoke. Tatun's eye jerked back, but did not stop itself from moving. It was familiar for flowers not to open, due to their independence, but to sound an alarm was concerning. However, this path was not usually dangerous. It let the event into a frame in its mind, and shortly reached a dead end.

  "What in the..." The traveler didn't finish, as the same force lightly pushed him off of the seat.

  They took notice and stepped off. Immediately, the boat grew shaky, white mist surrounding it and violently pushing the traveler back. The boat recolored back into its old wood, as Tatun formed through the dust. Silence entered the area besides the occasional crickets or bat.

  Trying to recover from everything else, the traveler said "you took my outrigger, dragged it here, so tell me where to go."

  It did not have a word to say, besides gesturing to the path. Floating forward in front of the traveler, they tied up their boat and followed, staff in hand.