Chapter 30 – The Boat and the Traveler

We packed our sleeping bags, preparing to leave the tranquil oasis beneath the tree, the endless starlit sky and the shimmering lake a fading memory.

“Noah,” Luna yawned, stretching, “Luna slept good! Not like… Abyss!”

“I know,” Yuri said, looking around, a wistful expression on her face. “So peaceful… it’s almost like… a dream.”

I nodded, checking our gear. “Time to find the way down to the ninth floor. Let’s explore.”

Morning and night were indistinguishable in the Abyss, time a fluid, ever-shifting concept. We searched the clearing, our gazes scanning the shimmering lake, the starlit sky, the gently pulsing pattern on the ground, searching for… a clue, a sign, a path.

“Where do we go from here…?” Yuri murmured, her voice echoing softly in the stillness.

I nodded, my gaze sweeping across the dreamlike landscape, searching for… something. Something… different.

And then I saw it. A small rowboat, resting quietly at the edge of the lake, its wooden hull gleaming faintly in the dim light.

“Noah! Look!” Luna pointed excitedly.

We approached the boat cautiously. It was old, weathered, yet strangely pristine, the wood smooth, dry, untouched by the water. A faint pattern, the shimmering fragments we’d come to recognize as the symbol of the eighth floor, was carved into its bow. So this is it. Our way down. I ran my hand along the smooth wood, its warmth a surprising contrast to the chill of the Abyss. It felt… welcoming. As if it had been waiting for us.

“A boat…” Luna murmured, circling the rowboat, her eyes wide with wonder. “We… take boat…?”

“Maybe,” Yuri said, peering into the empty hull. “There’s nothing… inside.”

A small sign stood beside the boat, its surface etched with faded writing. Unlike the indecipherable patterns we’d encountered before, these words… I could read them.

I am a rowboat, you are a traveler.

You tread on me with muddy feet.

I carry you across the water.

I carry you across deep or shallow, swift currents.

If you do not come, I weather the wind and rain, waiting for you from night to day.

You cross the water and leave without a backward glance.

But I know you will come again someday.

I grow old day by day, waiting for you.

I am a rowboat

You are a traveler.

“A rowboat… and a traveler…?” Yuri frowned, reading the words aloud. “What does that mean?”

“Traveler…” Luna said, pointing to the sign. “…we are travelers… boat… waiting for us…”

“But it says the traveler leaves without a backward glance,” Yuri said, tapping the side of the boat. “Is that… a good thing? Or a bad thing? Is it telling us to… go? Or to… stay away?”

I read the words again, a strange melancholy settling over me.

I am a rowboat. You are a traveler.

I carry you, muddy feet and all, across the swift currents, the deep waters.

But you leave without a second thought, without a backward glance.

“It’s… sad,” I said, my voice quiet. “Like… the boat is… used… then forgotten. Or… is it asking for… a price? A sacrifice?”

Yuri knelt beside me, her gaze fixed on the boat. “A price? So… if we take the boat… we’ll lose something?” She sighed. “Well, that’s pretty much par for the course in the Abyss.”

“But boat… not saying anything,” Luna said, peering into the empty hull. “Just… waiting… to take us… somewhere…”

“So, Noah,” Yuri asked, turning to me, her expression uncertain, “what do you think? Do we take it? Or do we try to find another way?”

I hesitated, looking at the rowboat, its silent presence a question, a challenge. There was no other path, no other sign, no other way forward.

“I don’t like the sound of that poem,” I said, my voice low. “But… I don’t see any other options. Maybe… this is another test of faith.”

“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we, Noah?” Luna said, squeezing my hand, her voice filled with quiet confidence. “Trusting… our instincts. This time… will be no different.”

Yuri sighed, her gaze still fixed on the sign, a flicker of doubt in her eyes, then nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it. But please, Abyss… no more traps.”

“Alright,” I said, stepping onto the boat. “Let’s go.”

The boat rocked gently as we settled into it, the still water of the lake reflecting the starlit sky above. As I reached for the oars, a gust of wind rustled the leaves of the lone tree, and the words on the sign seemed to echo in my mind.

I grow old day by day, waiting for you.

I pushed off from the shore, the oars dipping into the water, the boat gliding silently across the lake, the gentle ripples spreading outwards, the starlight shimmering on the surface. We were suspended between the sky and the water, a small boat on a vast, still lake, the distant shore a fading memory.

“Where do you think it leads, Noah?” Yuri asked, her gaze fixed on the distant shore, a faint light shimmering in the darkness.

“To the ninth floor,” I said, hoping I was right.

“That light…” Luna murmured, pointing towards the faint glow. “…it’s… calling us…”

“Maybe it’s guiding us,” Yuri said.

I rowed on, the silence of the lake, the vastness of the sky, both comforting and unsettling. What awaited us on the other side? What price would we have to pay for passage?

“Noah,” Yuri said, breaking the silence, her gaze fixed on the water, “what do you think they were looking for? The others who came down here?”

I paused, my oars resting on the water, considering her question. “Truth? Treasure? Salvation?” I shrugged. “The usual, I guess.” But my answer felt hollow, incomplete.

“Truth… treasure… salvation…” Yuri repeated, her voice thoughtful. “It’s all so… vague. And yet… I think I understand.”

“Why… come down?” Luna asked, her voice quiet, her question simple, yet profound. It wasn’t what they were looking for, but why.

“Why put themselves through… all this?” she continued, her golden eyes wide with a childlike curiosity, but her words cutting to the heart of the matter. “It’s… hard. Why come down… if it’s so hard?”

“It’s a good question, Luna,” I said, smiling at her. “But people… they’re not always… logical. Sometimes… they just… go. Even if they don’t know… why. There’s a… a pull. A need… to search. To find… something. Even if they don’t know… what it is.”

“But… what’s the point… if they don’t know… what they’re looking for?” she persisted. “What if… they don’t find… anything? Then… it was all… for nothing…?”

“Not necessarily,” I said quietly. “Sometimes… the journey… is the destination. Sometimes… you have to reach the end… to understand… why you started.”

“What if… there’s nothing there… at the end…?”

“Then… that’s the answer,” Yuri said, her voice low, thoughtful. “Sometimes… you have to see… for yourself. To know… for sure. Before you can… move on.”

Luna frowned, tapping her foot against the bottom of the boat. “If Arka not ask… Luna stay home. Same… everything. Scenery. Food. Family.”

“True,” Yuri said, smiling softly. “But if you stay home… you never… learn. Never grow. Never… discover.”

“Discover… scary…” Luna murmured, her gaze fixed on the shimmering water. “Luna like… pretty. Stars. Lake. That’s… enough.”

“It is beautiful,” I agreed, my gaze sweeping across the tranquil landscape. “But it won’t last. We have to… move on. Eventually.”

“And in moving on…” Yuri sighed, looking up at the stars, “…we lose things.”

“Like the poem said,” she continued, her voice quiet, melancholic. “The boat carries us, but we leave it behind. It grows old… waiting. Just like… the others who came before us. They came here, searching… for something. And they lost… something, too.”

“Lose what?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

“Memories. Senses. Even… themselves.”

“Noah…” Luna whispered, her small body trembling, her golden eyes wide with fear. “…Luna doesn’t like… endings… scary…”

I gripped the oars tighter, pulling them through the water, the boat gliding smoothly towards the light.

“I don’t know what the ending means, Luna,” I said, my voice soft, reassuring. “But we have to… keep moving forward.”

“You’re so… determined, Noah,” Yuri said, her voice quiet, almost… admiring. “Always pushing forward. Never hesitating.”

“It’s not about determination, Yuri,” I said, my gaze fixed on the light. “It’s about… choice. We made a choice. And now… we have to… see it through.”

“And besides,” I added, my voice low, “we have to go down. That’s… the only way.”

The boat glided across the still water, the starlight shimmering on the surface, the silence broken only by the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull, each of us lost in our own thoughts, our own fears, our own hopes.

The light on the distant shore grew brighter, closer.

The boat reached the shore, grounding gently on the soft earth. We stepped out, the solid ground beneath our feet a welcome sensation. The light, now brighter, closer, beckoned us forward. The path to the ninth floor.

But we hesitated, our gazes lingering on the rowboat, its silent presence a reminder of the poem, of the traveler who crosses the water and leaves without a backward glance.

Luna stepped back towards the boat, her expression troubled, uncertain.

“Don’t… wait…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Yuri and I exchanged a look, then turned to Luna, watching as she stood there, her small form silhouetted against the shimmering lake, her gaze fixed on the rowboat, as if… saying goodbye. The boat, motionless on the still water, seemed to… understand.

I grow old day by day, waiting for you. The words echoed in my mind. Luna… she didn’t want the boat to be left alone, to grow old and forgotten, waiting for travelers who would never return.

“Goodbye, Mr. Rowboat,” she whispered, her voice filled with a strange mix of sadness and… affection. “No need… to wait… anymore…”

A moment of silence, then a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the lone tree, and we turned, following the path towards the light, leaving the rowboat behind, its silent presence a fading memory.