Chapter 11:
Where the dead dance

“But how can this be?” Ionyr asked. “The story of the Sea Monkeys is centuries old!”

“Simple, really. I’m immortal.” Roger chuckled heartily. “Rather, I was. Before you two came along.”

“W-why? How?” Rayza stammered, taken aback. 

“Relax. I’m rather thankful, actually.” Roger said, inhaling deeply and sighing happily. “Spirits, the air hasn’t tasted this good in ages!” He stretched his back, groaning as a pleased expression graced his features. “You’re holding the answer to both questions, lass.”

“What?” Rayza looked down, finding a cute little star gazing back. “You mean Ciel?”

“Right you are!” Roger said, plopping down on the tree stump and lighting his pipe again.”You two did what none of us could. You passed the Creators’ test.”  

As Roger finished his sentence, dozens of figures stepped into the clearing. Ionyr recognized one lady as the innkeeper – the townspeople! So they all…

“We were once like you. Adventurers with a spark in their eye. Something to strive for. But when the Creators glimpsed into our souls…” The storyteller sighed. “They found us wanting.”

“H-how so?” Rayza asked, scooting closer to Ionyr. He protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“You know, that’s an excellent question.” Roger laughed and shrugged. “Spent an eternity and a half thinking about it in that grey, lonely place. Still got no clue. But now…that eternity is at an end.” He raised an arm towards the innkeeper. “If you please.”

She grabbed his arm and hit it with her knee full force, and there was a loud shattering noise. 

“What are you-”After a moment of brief shock, Ionyr realised just how unfitting that sound was – why did it sound like shattering glass? It was all too familiar…

“No worries, nothing we haven’t done before. Don’t try this at home, though.” Roger presented his now cracked arm. Shards orbited around it – it looked exactly like the Creators’ magic! Moments later, they all returned to where they came from, restoring his arm. Although some cracks remained, and dust trickled from them. 

“We couldn’t be hurt. Couldn’t age. Couldn’t leave either. Prisoners in our own bodies, minds slave to another. Everlasting props on the stage the Creators built for us.” He grabbed his lantern from the end of his staff and sat back down. “Have you heard?” He showed them his purple flame. “Souls are like fire.” 

“Yeah. Not too long ago.” Ionyr said, nodding.

“In the moment of death, the most dominant energy is deeply inscribed upon it.” Roger said, wiping the ash and soot off the lantern. “If you’re grief-stricken, that’s how you will remain. Lose all hope, and you’ll never find it again. Die while seeking revenge, and that will be your fate forevermore.”

“So you’re all…”

“Ghosts. Spirits clinging to the last thing they felt before perishing.” Roger interrupted him with a chuckle. He jumped up onto a branch, leaping as high as a small house with ease.  “We have long since overstayed our welcome on this earth. However, now that the Star has found its home, our sentence is at an end.” 

As Roger hung his lantern from the branch, Ionyr noticed a bunch of other, similar looking lanterns hanging from the trees, all with colourful flames dancing inside them. Roger hopped back down and landed gracefully, as though his body weighed nothing. Cracking his neck and knuckles, he let out a pleased groan as dust fell from his joints.

“Did I mention that this place was where the dead dance?” Roger asked, grumbling as he scratched his chin.

“No, why?”

“Darn, I must’ve forgotten this time.” Roger chuckled and sat back down. Dust fell from his body with every step.  “Well, then you’re in for a surprise. Enjoy the show.”

The innkeeper suddenly began glowing, cracks appearing upon her body. With a smile, she raised her arms and completely fell apart, becoming nothing more than a shimmering dark green orb of light in a cloud of dust. The light took the shape of a young woman. Laughing and crying, she jumped and floated into the trees above. 

As the sounds of her overjoyed sobbing echoed through the clearing, the other townspeople quickly followed suit, one after the other. They all happily accepted their end with a peaceful smile. Every last colour of the spectrum, every last drop of emotion they’d been forced to hold back was released all at once, bathing the clearing in an ethereal glow.

“Wow…” Rayza said beneath her breath, watching the spectacle in awe. Ionyr could barely hear her over the ghosts’ happy cries. This whole ordeal was truly worth it, he thought, if only for this sight. He could see Ciel also watching it, the lights reflecting in her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, like she too was awed by the festive dance of the dead.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Roger said wistfully, puffing out smoke. “We’ve been alive for so long, clinging to a death that was taken from us…but now that it’s finally been granted, we feel more alive than ever.” He chuckled. “I kinda want to dance, too. Well, soon it’ll be my time to join the stage.”

“Wait, why haven’t you?” Rayza asked, leaning in closer. “All the others are dancing, so why…?”

“The good captain would like to spend a little more time with the heroes that saved the day.” Roger said, playing with his pipe. 

“Heroes, huh?” Ionyr laughed. “We’re just explorers. Adventurers at best.”

“Har! That may be, lad. But to me and all those happy souls, you’re a hero.” Roger inhaled another puff of smoke. “You know, you’re not the first I’ve guided to the sanctuary. Though you’re the only ones that weren’t put in these accursed vessels.”

“Actually, something’s been bothering me.” Ionyr said, narrowing his eyes. “The Creators said that should we fail the test, our memories of this adventure would be erased. But that doesn’t match up at all with what you’re saying.”

“Funny. They told me something similar.” Roger said sourly, brushing his thumb across his pipe. “After failing their test, I woke up in this body. Still wonder if I’m the same guy who took the test.”

“What do you mean?” Ionyr asked, taken aback. 

“There are two options, lad. Either they were lying, and erasing memories was never on the table. Or they were telling the truth…but then, why can I remember everything?” Roger’s face was marred with an expression of dread. “If the real Jolly Roger lost his memory…then that must make me…”

“The lost memories.” Ionyr finished Roger’s sentence. The old man nodded, and inhaled deeply from his pipe. The sounds of the dancing ghosts had quieted down, like they were listening in and sharing in Roger’s fear.

“Aye. Jolly Roger’s memories and emotions, mind and soul, captured like a painting and placed in this eternal body.” Roger played with the pipe. “I have no way of knowing if I am the true captain, or an imitation created for the Creators’ designs. The only thing left from his life is this.” 

“The pipe…?” Rayza asked, tilting her head. After a brief pause, her eyes widened. “Wait, is that the small memento you mentioned in your story?”

“Good catch, lass.” Roger nodded with a smile. “This pipe belonged to the good captain’s best friend and first mate. It was the only thing I…that he could save from the storm.”

They sat in silence as Roger stared at the pipe, lost in thought. Even the ghosts and horses had fallen completely silent. Was it to apologise to Ionyr and Rayza, having knowingly led the young couple towards the same cruel fate? Or was it to mourn the ghosts’, born as imitations to exist solely for a single, solitary duty? 

Perhaps it was more than that, even. Maybe this moment of silence was dedicated to the fact that despite their centuries of suffering, all of it will be pointlessly forgotten by history, lost to the jaws of time once the two last witnesses pass on.

Roger’s left arm cracked and fell to the ground, dispersing into a cloud of dust. Looks like he didn’t have much time left.

“I’ve wondered for a long time why the Creators didn’t pick me. How I failed their test.” Roger said, breaking the silence and paying no heed to his missing limb “But seeing you two…I think I figured it out. The reason you succeeded where we failed.”

“Roger, your arm…” Ionyr said, but Rayza placed a hand on his knee and shook her head. Sighing, Ionyr picked up and stirred his soup. “Why is that?” He asked.

“When the Creators glimpsed into our souls, they found something twisted.” Roger said, playing with his pipe. “Some of us desired fame. Others wealth. I desired revenge. Long story short,” he sighed, “they found us wanting.”

“Literally or figuratively?” Ionyr joked with a small smile.

“Both, lad. Both.” Roger chuckled mirthfully. “When I first met you, I thought you two were the same as us. Twisted souls yearning for a certain something to complete them.”

“But…we were!” Rayza interjected forcefully, but quickly piped down when Ciel let out a cute little groan. 

“Indeed, I saw your past when I led you through that fog – as well as your dreams. How strongly the both of you yearned for them.” Roger leaned back and chuckled heartily. “The innkeeper told me all about it.”

An echo of ghostly laughter came from the trees above. Rayza’s cheeks reddened as she remembered the night before.

“Shut up.” She hissed, gritting her teeth in annoyed embarrassment. Ionyr pat her shoulder, making her back down.

“I think what Rayza is trying to ask is this.” He said as Rayza went back to cuddling with their daughter. “What makes our dreams so different from yours? What makes your soul twisted, and ours not?”

Roger paused for a moment, his mouth hanging open.

“I believe…” He paused again, seemingly trying to find the right words. “I believe it’s not about the dreams – it’s about you.” He brushed his thumb over the pipe, leaving a trail of dust on it as his fingers began to crumble. “Tell me, if you had never found the Creators or founded a family, would you have regretted the choices you made?”

“No, not for a single second.” Rayza said without hesitation.

“Nope.” Ionyr said without missing a beat.

“There you go!” Roger said, chuckling. “No matter what, you lived life to the fullest, enjoying every second chasing after your dreams together. That is why they chose you.” As he continued playing with his pipe, his thumb broke off and fell, becoming nothing more than a pile of dust. “Unlike us old codgers, who gave up on their grand dreams so long ago for our fleeting, selfish desires.”

Roger’s other arm cracked and broke off, causing it to disintegrate on the ground. His pipe just barely poked out from the heap. Sighing, the storyteller leaned back in his seat.

“My time is nearly up, it seems. Ah well.” He cracked a smile, dust falling from his face and beard. “It was a good ride.”

Ionyr wordlessly handed his bowl to Rayza and went over to the good captain’s side. Picking up the pipe, he lit it again and held it to Roger’s mouth. They exchanged a meaningful look, upon which the old man smiled and inhaled deeply from the pipe.

“What was your dream, Roger?” Ionyr asked, brushing the dust off the pipe, revealing the initials C.D. on it.

“You know, it’s been so long I can’t remember.” The captain said, puffing out a large cloud of smoke. Staring at those initials, his eyes wistfully glowed with nostalgia. “I wonder…what would you answer, old friend?”

“For what it’s worth,” Ionyr held the pipe to Roger’s mouth for another inhale, “the stories of the Sea Monkeys truly inspired me. You taught me to never stop smiling and enjoy life to the fullest. Without you…” Ionyr held the pipe to his own mouth, inhaling deeply. “I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

“Never stop smiling, hm?” Roger muttered pensively, exhaling the smoke before chuckling. “I wish I was able to live up to that ideal. Then again…wasn’t that why we set off, old friend? To spread joy and laughter to the Isles?” He gazed at the pipe as a singular tear ran down his cheek, leaving a wet trail on his dusty face. 

“Thank you, Ionyr. And thank you too, Rayza. For helping me see the light.” Roger grinned, and with a loud crack, his body shone with a bright light and burst into a big cloud of smoke. The only thing left of him was a glowing purple orb, which soon took a humanoid shape.

“I’ve never felt quite so alive, now that I am dead.” His voice echoed, before bursting into joyful laughter. ”Come now, my fellows! Let us dance!” 

As the ghosts began hopping and twirling among the lanterns in the trees, Ionyr sat back down next to Rayza. After taking one last look at the pipe, he pocketed it and took his bowl back from her. 

As they ate, they watched this magnificent spectacle – truly, despite how exhausting this day had been, it had been worth it, if only to witness this graceful dance. Among all the cheering and laughing, crying and sobbing, there was one phrase that echoed through the clearing, again and again.

A single emotion that every lost soul here shared.

“I hope you enjoy the lights, little Star.”