Captain NorthStar Lightwalker's Arc

Chapter 2 of 14

Back on the houseboat the next dawn, NorthStar laid the silver ring on the table beside the blank note. He could not bring it to Voss. He could not bring it to anyone. An empty promise would only chase a real person away. He walked outside to the twin gazebo he had built years ago. One bench was worn smooth. The other had never held a person. He sat in the unused one this time and felt how wrong it was. From his pocket he drew a second ring, a polished signet with a blank face. He had carried it for the same reason. Two rings. No names. He set it on the railing and stared at the moss-draped shrine he had raised at the path's edge, a quiet sign that he was ready to be found. Move first, he told himself. One foot. One order. He took the blank note and tore it in half. Then he wrote a new line at the top, in steady ink: To whoever sits across from me. Not a name. A seat saved. He folded the note around the silver ring and tucked both into his coat. The promise was no longer empty. It had an address now, even without a face. He climbed back toward the shuttle, lighter, and knew the next person he met would matter more than he was ready for.