In the tense days after the ghost ship encounter, Shoji tended to Bayan and the most shaken sohei, many of whom had suffered spiritual or mental trauma from their contact with the crate. As their minds cleared, Bayan requested to see the contents again.
Bangqiu claimed the mirror — the most obviously magical item. Bayan identified a functional astrolabe and chronometer among the odd metal pieces, intuiting their purpose. Bo-Jing quietly pocketed a set of intricate keys, believing they must unlock something important. The jar of dark liquid, too strange to keep and too dangerous to discard, was entrusted to Shoji.
The remaining contents — oddly-shaped metals and rotting books — were given to Bangqiu for future study.
But the real threat was hunger. Hyamsam shared his food with the sailors, and Captain Won asked Bangqiu to requisition rations from the sohei. Bangqiu agreed — enforcing shared rations across the ship. The crew’s mood improved, and with long oars, they rowed day and night, trying to escape the stillness of the sea.
Then things broke.
During sparring with Bo-Jing, a sailor hurled a hammer at Captain Won. It missed — but signaled a mutiny. More than a dozen sailors attacked. Won cut down several, even as Hyamsam turned against him, firing magic missiles. The rest overwhelmed him. Bangqiu appeared on deck, commanding them to stop.
The sailors, afraid, obeyed. Bangqiu demanded answers. The crew confessed: Won had threatened that if they didn't obey, he was going to let Bangqiu eat them. As Won stood up and killed another crewman, Bangqiu struck him down with a blast of blue-green energy. The sailors finished him off.
They named Hyamsam their new captain, who promised to sail to “Party Island” — a myth Won had used to keep them in line.
That night, Bangqiu searched the captain’s cabin, uncovering the truth: Won had long since given up on escaping the doldrums. In his cabin, Bangqiu took out Sakatha’s ring. He turned it, imagining faraway places. The ring turned to lead and cracked.
A wind rose. The ship turned north. The current swept them east. In five days, they saw land: a vast continent.
That night, the crew danced. Shoji led meditations, joined by Bo-Jing and three students. But inside the ship, the jar of dark liquid boiled violently, shaking as if possessed. Shoji hurled it out the window.
It exploded.
From the steam and shattered glass, a man emerged, newborn and slick-skinned, but Shoji recognized the face — twisted, skeletal, now soft and blank — the undead captain reborn.
He hit the water and disappeared. Bayan, awake, saw the figure in the moonlight, clutching something to his chest as he sank beneath the waves.
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