What Sanders Left Behind

It took another week of searching.

I followed every remaining clue on the map, checked every cove, every half-collapsed ruin, and every place that looked like it could hide something worth hiding. Most of it led nowhere. Dead ends, washed-out trails, and more than a few nights sleeping rough with nothing but cold wind and the sound of the sea for company.

But on the seventh day, I found it.

A small, lonely island a fair distance from the coast. Far enough that swimming would be miserable, but not impossible if you were desperate. From the mainland it looked like nothing special. Just rocks and wind. But the final marking on the map pointed straight at it.

I waited until nightfall, then swam out. The water was cold and rough, and by the time I dragged myself ashore I was half-frozen and cursing Sanders’ name. On the western side of the island, hidden from the mainland, I found a small, weather-beaten rowboat tied to a rotting post. Probably how the old bastard got out here himself.

Further inland, behind a cluster of rocks, was the chest.

Old, iron-bound, and heavier than it looked. It took me almost an hour to get it open with what little tools I had.

Inside wasn’t a king’s ransom. No mountains of gold or legendary artifacts. But there was coin. Real coin. Enough to last a good while if I’m careful. Some old nautical instruments, a few sealed bottles of something expensive, and a small bundle of letters and personal effects that Sanders apparently couldn’t bring himself to part with.

I sat there for a long time just staring at it.

It wasn’t life-changing wealth. But it was enough. Enough to walk away from Westfall with my head held high. Enough to prove that all those weeks of chasing ghosts hadn’t been completely pointless.

I took what I could reasonably carry, left the rest, and rowed the old boat back to the mainland under cover of darkness. No point in being greedy. Besides, some legends are better left with a little mystery.

As I stepped back onto Westfall soil, I realized something strange.

For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like I was running someone else’s errands.

I felt like I had done something for myself.

And that felt better than the coin.