On the road through Galen, with Kiko’s first riddle still unsolved and the scent of burned soil in the air, I came across something that pulled me far off course. I had been walking along a volcanic path, mind fixed on puzzles and maps, when I heard it; singing. Not the kind you hear in temples, but something wild and tuneless, rolling across the cracked stone like the wind didn’t quite know what to do with it.

I followed the sound, careful not to lose my footing near the lava flows that snake through this part of the island. Eventually, I found him. A Nord, of all things. Sunburned, and quite obviously drunk, standing on a boulder with a fishing rod plunged into a bubbling pool of molten rock. I don’t know what he thought he might catch, but he watched that glowing line like a man expecting slaughterfish.

It took some effort to find a stone of my own to sit on. Most were too hot or too precariously perched near the lava’s edge. I finally settled on one and tried to greet him. He didn’t answer. Either he didn’t hear me or didn’t care. Between burps and half-finished thoughts, I recognized the song he was mangling: “To See My Systres”, an old sailor’s ballad from the archipelago. The melody came and went, hidden beneath slurred words and the occasional hiccup. Still, it was oddly beautiful, in its own unfortunate way.

He never asked my name, never looked up, just kept fishing and singing like the lava itself had ears. I stayed a little while longer, unsure if I should laugh or leave quietly.

Eventually, I stood. The riddle still waits, and no song, however strange, will keep me from treasure. At least, not for too long.