OJ knew he was getting close when he heard the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. The trees gave way to once again reveal the clear blue ocean and sandy beach where his friends were waiting.
Stepping out of the tree line, OJ gave a sharp whistle to get their attention. "Alright, guys. Status report," he demanded.
Duster stepped up first, his trousers rolled up to his knees and his shoes and socks discarded. "Well, the S.S. DCMC is D.O.A." He held up a half-eaten oar, the only part of their boat he'd managed to salvage from the sharks.
"And Magic's mushrooms are definitely NOT safe to eat," Baccio noted.
"Guys?" Magic called out from where he was lying on the sand. "My fingers turned into snakes again."
"You're fine, Magic! Sweat it out!" OJ ordered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shimmy? I could use some good news."
Shimmy Zmizz, at least, seemed to have some luck. He was accompanied by what OJ could only assume was a local. "I met this chill beach bum here who said he'd be happy to give us a ride home."
The large, red octopus smiled and tipped its hat to the quartet. "I'm overjoyed to help. You know, it's times like this that remind me why I love beachcombing so much; you never know what the tide might bring in. You say you're musicians?"
"You got that right," said Baccio. "If you can get us home in one piece we'll be sure you get tickets to our next gig."
"I've never been to a show before," the octopus responded. "That sounds like fun. I'm Ocho, by the way."
"Tonda gossa, Ocho," OJ answered him.
"What about you, OJ?" Duster asked. "Did you find anything further inland?"
"Not a trace, Lucky," OJ groused. "It's all forest as far as the eye can see."
"Oh, you won't find anything here," Ocho helpfully informed them. "Nobody lives on Tanetane Island. Well, nobody but me, but I'm just here for the beautiful beaches. The only other person I ever see around these parts is a grungy-looking guy with a cart full of all sorts of weird knickknacks."
"Hang on. Where's Kumatora?" Duster inquired.
OJ raised an eyebrow at the bassist. "Where do you think? She wasn't about to wait for the rest of us to get our act together."
Duster paled. "You let her go off on her own?"
"You say that like I could've stopped her," OJ pointed out. "I'd have gone with if I could keep up, but you know how she gets when she's after something."
"Do you at least know which way she headed?" Duster asked.
"Looked like some hills in the distance," OJ noted. "My instincts say there's nowhere else she'd go."
"What is she thinking?" Duster grumbled. "We get shipwrecked and the first thing she does is head off into the woods. I'm going after her."
"Hold up," OJ stopped him. "So your response to Kumatora wandering away from the group is to wander away from the group yourself?"
"Well we can't all go." Duster looked at Magic, who was holding a very deep conversation with his fingers. "Besides, I can handle this."
"Well I'm not about to stop you," OJ relented. "I gotta let a bird like you fly free."
"You're not going up to the bluffs, are you?" Ocho asked. "That place is dangerous! There are some super intense guys that hang out up there."
Duster gritted his teeth. "Then I'd better hurry."
Despite his haste, the thief was not nearly as quick on his feet as Kumatora was, and she had a big head start. The princess reached the bluffs well before he had a chance to catch up. Looking over the steep cliffs all around her, even Kumatora felt some small trepidation. This would be a pretty bad place to lose her footing. Still, a quick scan of the horizon confirmed that there were no signs of human habitation on the island. It was nothing but green woodland sprinkled with snow, cerulean skies and calm seas in every direction.
As she scoured the bluffs further, though, there was one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb: a strange, purple, entirely out-of-place monument. Perhaps this was finally the trace of the Magypsies she'd been searching for. Kumatora came to this island after learning it had been home to one of them. Lucas said her name was Mixolydia, and apparently she made exceptionally yummy pickles.
As she approached the summit, Kumatora slowed down. There were three of these bizarre things, and even dusted with snow as they were it was clear that this was no natural formation. They looked to be some kind of statues, each with an engraving on its chest.
"Barrier Man," she read aloud, circling the figures. "Barrier Gal. Barrier Dude."
The trio stood in formation around an empty spot on the ground. If they were supposed to be a barrier as their names suggested then they should be guarding something, but as far as Kumatora could tell they were the only things up here.
Kumatora began to draw closer, but a shiver ran up her spine and she pulled away instantly. The statues were radiating enough PSI to give Kumatora a brain freeze from merely getting too close. These things –whatever they might be – were alive, and they were watching her. If there was any doubt before it had all vanished now: they were made by a Magypsy.
"Hey!" Kumatora called out. "I know you can hear me! What's your deal?"
The trio did not answer. They didn't even flinch, but there was a slight shift in the psychic energy coming off them. They'd heard her, alright. That made their silence even more unsettling.
"Who made you?" Kumatora asked. "Was it the Magypsies?" Again, her questions garnered no response. "Answer me!"
The only sound was the wind howling over the bluffs. Kumatora pondered rushing at them to provoke a reaction, but that same shiver held her back. As things stood, these statues weren't looking for a fight, but she knew that if push came to shove any one of them would be a force to be reckoned with alone, nevermind all three. Besides, engaging in a fight wasn't likely to make them any more cooperative, and she needed answers.
"So 'Barrier Man', what are you doing here?" she asked. "You've got to be guarding something, right? Otherwise what's the point of a barrier?"
Their silence began sounding more and more like they were mocking her, but Kumatora kept her head together. Losing her cool now wouldn't do her any good, having finally found some proof of the Magypsies' existence.
Of course she knew all along that the Magypsies or someone like them must have existed. Psychics like herself, Lucas and Claus don't just appear out of thin air. That fact had been what started her down this whole journey in the first place: the only way to learn PSI is from a master. These strange creatures were something else altogether, though. They had actually been created by inhuman hands, imbued with life by otherworldly breath. These could not be the handiwork of any run-of-the-mill psychic. They were the last physical memorial to an ancient and forgotten race whose very existence had been purposefully scoured from all history.
It was the same for the Pigmask army, she realized. Like the Magypsies, almost every trace of them was wiped clean, both the things they had built and all memory of their existence. Yet the people brought to the islands by those Pigmasks remained. She, Lucas, and Claus remained. Now, Barrier Man, Barrier Gal and Barrier Dude remained as well.
"Is it because you're alive?" Kumatora wondered to herself. "Is that it? Can whatever did this not get rid of living things?" As soon as she asked, she knew it wasn't the case. The Magypsies were alive too, but their whole existence had been purged. Even if they'd died, that wouldn't be an issue. Lucas's "Dragon" had apparently brought both Claus and Hinawa back from the dead. Why not the Magypsies? The answer was clear: whatever changed the world wanted to get rid of the Magypsies every bit as much as it wanted to wipe out the Pigmasks.
"Why are you still here?" Kumatora asked the trio. "If some all-powerful Dragon wanted to get rid of all trace of the Magypsies, why leave you? Why leave a huge gap in my memories instead of filling that space with something?" None of it made sense. The way the world had been reset seemed so . . . haphazard. Could something powerful enough to remake the world and erase everyone's memories really make so many mistakes? Was all existence hinging on the whims of an absent-minded God?
Kumatora didn't have much use for faith. In her experience, even the craziest, most out-there events had entirely human explanations. She wouldn't pin everything that happened on some invisible Dragon when there was a simpler explanation. An all-seeing, all-knowing Dragon might not make mistakes, but a person would.
As cold as it was, Duster was still thankful for the snow: it made Kumatora's trail especially easy to follow. Having reached the summit, he found her standing before three purple statues with her back to him even as he called out to her.
"We found a way off the island," Duster announced as he got into speaking range. Still failing to get a rise out of her, Duster grew concerned. "Kumatora? What's wrong?"
"Forget it," she snapped.
Duster winced and backed off. This hadn't been the first time he'd stumbled upon her in a foul mood, and he'd learned that the best way to handle it was to give her space. Turning his gaze to the statues, he mouthed the engraved words to himself. This place was strange, but no more so than some of the other bizarre sights he'd witnessed in Kumatora's company.
He was about to turn away when he felt it: a deep thrum, not unlike a note his bass might play. The unexpected sound gave him pause, and he closed his eyes, unconvinced that he'd really heard it. After a moment he felt it again; it was low and distant, but powerful enough to rattle his bones. As slow and as deep as the sound was, there was something almost melodic to it.
"Is this your ideal world?" Kumatora asked suddenly.
Duster's concentration was shattered. "Wh-what?" he stammered.
"This world," Kumatora persisted. "If you could make it any way you wanted, would this be it?"
The princess asked very peculiar questions sometimes. "I don't know. It's pretty good, so I don't think I'd change anything."
"That's not what I asked," said Kumatora. "If you were creating the world, would this be the world you'd make for yourself?"
Duster hesitated, but ultimately had to answer honestly. "Probably not." As much as he loved his friends, they weren't a substitute for a family.
Kumatora shook her head. "Me neither."
"What's going on?" Duster asked.
"Don't worry about it." Kumatora cracked her knuckles. She knew someone who could say this was his ideal world. Someone that conveniently remembered the way things used to be when nobody else did. That someone had let her family die so that his might live.
Kumatora had her answer. Now she needed to figure out what to do with it.