Lost Continent - Vera Ars Vitae

(Prologue, Part 1)

 It wasn't long before I got sailing in the right direction. North north west, just like my father had told me too. I didn't know what I was looking for, there were no islands anywhere above our one, but he did mention tat it wasn't marked on any maps. And so I kept sailing.

I don't know how long I had been sailing for, but I hadn't strayed from my NNW course. The sun was beating down hard on me, the storm long since passed. I was constantly scanning the horizon, hoping to see signs of the island. It took several hours before I spotted the island. I sailed as fast as I could to get there. The island wasn't very big, maybe 10-20 kilometres across, almost completely made of sand with only a bit of rock on top and covered in trees from a few metres inland. I reached the island and sailed around to the western-most side, just like it said in the letter. I looked all around in the water, looking for the book. I see a black book in the water and jump in. The waters up to my waist when it settles. The book has shining, silver letters on the cover, it says "Vera Ars Vitae". I remember someone telling me about it. It's supposedly a legendary spell book. The title means "The True Art of Life" in Latin or something, I can't remember. I do remember that it tries to kill everyone who takes it though. I look to my right and see that I'm standing at the bit where a river meets the sea and the waters still flowing around me. I looked back down, staring at the book. The title, there was something about the way it's written. It's almost as if it's beckoning me, telling me to come closer. I lower myself to my knees without realising. The water's up to my neck, I can taste the salt on my lips from the spray. The book opened, maybe because of the flowing water which had seemed to increase in speed. I leaned forward, trying to read it, moving against my will. My face goes in, then my head and I'm fully submerged, caught in a trance created by the book. I get closer but the book moves further away, forcing me further underwater. My eyes are still open, longing to read the words on the page, but the water makes them impossible to make out. Then the words began to rise from the page, or maybe it was my imagination, but no, it couldn't have been. They circled upwards, towards me. They reached my lips and slipped in. I opened my mouth, letting words and water flow in. I reach out and take the book, still open, words still flowing out. They tasted sweet on my lips, but filled me with a terrible, burning pain. I knew I was going to die here, after only just starting my journey. Tears streamed from my eyes, mixing with the salt water that was all around and inside me. The book was so heavy, but I couldn't let it go, even if I tried. I was sinking. Going down through the deep cold water and heavy silence, shadows stirring in the gloom. This was it, this was my tomb. Just like my father, I was going to die at sea, mere metres from the safety of land. I feel shame for failing this early, and regret for not saving my father. I let the sea begin to take me, feeling the water fill my lungs even more. Then, just as I loose all hope, someone or something jumps into the water next to me. They grab me around the waist, taking me to my death. But no, they pull me up and carry me forward. The place me down gently on the land. They take the book from my hand and pound on my chest. I feel the pain from the hit combat against the pain of my water filled lungs. They pinch my nose, open my mouth, press their lips to mine and blow air in, getting air mixed in with the water. The pound my chest one more time. I cough, spraying water all over the place, not that it matters, I'm soaking wet anyway. I keep coughing, each time more and more water comes up out of my lungs, being replaced by air. Finally, when all the water's gone, I lay on my back, staring up at the red sky of the setting sun. I blink my eyes and whisper my thanks to the person next to me. I still haven't looked over to see who they are, I don't even know how they got to me. I'm almost certain there was no one on the island. I look over to see the person who saved my life. Their pants and black shirt were soaking wet, just like my clothes. I had rolled my head too far and could only see their body, but I knew who they were. "That was too close" They say. Their voice was shaky and I could tell that they were crying, or had been. I  look up at their face but the suns behind them and I can only see a silhouette of them. Her long black hair was waving in a gentle breeze. 

"Thank you Jess, I owe you my life." I said, as I looked down, saw the book, and closed my eyes, letting myself drift out of consciousness.

 The Ferryman. I laugh at the irony and what I had just experienced. Once again, I fell asleep, dreaming of my father and the book. Vera Ars Vitae, the true art of life.

(Part 3)