Once again, after what felt like an eternity, he had returned to a dream.
Gale woke within the dream and looked at the palms of his hands. Compared to two years ago, they were now much larger and rougher.
He was already fourteen years old. On the island, fourteen was the age at which one could live independently.
Most children at this age no longer depended on their parents for sustenance. The average age for marriage on the island ranged from sixteen to eighteen, but quite a few men married at fourteen.
According to the traditions for boys his age, if they had a partner they liked and a job that allowed them to support a family, most young men on the island chose to have their first child between the ages of sixteen and eighteen.
Gale had grown a lot, but… to the people he knew, he was still a child—someone curious, someone they could share stories of their life's achievements with.
This time, he was in a simple room—his study.
Here, whatever he wrote, he memorized almost instantly, as if some kind of drug helped him retain information.
This time, a rather enigmatic figure appeared on the other side of the mirror—a place where it was far from normal to hold a conversation.
It had been three years since the day he first dreamed of his first mentor.
He always remembered that day—August 27, 844—the day Historia arrived at the farm, and that very night, he met the girl in his dream.
After each dream ended, the next one would be longer, and the intervals between dreams would grow shorter.
At first, he could only see her once a month, but now it was approximately once every twenty-one days, and the time had extended to around two hours.
Over the course of three years, the intervals between dreams had decreased from thirty to twenty-one days. If this continued, he would be able to dream of that girl every day within another two three-year periods—assuming he was still alive by then.
"I must be far too drunk to be seeing this—sad-eyed boy, what kind of nightmare are you?" The man, wearing a hat and dreadlocks, approached the mirror.
That man was, in fact, a disheveled, eccentric, and recognizable pirate, characterized by dark brown dreadlocks adorned with beads and trinkets, a braided goatee, heavy smoky eye makeup, and an unsteady gait.
"It's not a nightmare, Captain. Let's say it's the connection of two brilliant minds in need of each other." Gale smiled, amazed to have the opportunity to meet Captain Jack, a man who had earned the love of the entire world.
"I don't need anything from children." Jack turned, searching for his bottle of rum.
Gale then said, "But I do. It just so happens I'm embarking on a journey across the sea, and I could really use some good advice from the famous Captain Jack Sparrow."
Jack stopped mid-step, the bottle already in his hand, and slowly turned his head. His gaze, filled with suspicion and curiosity, scanned Gale from head to toe, as if deciding whether he was even worth answering.
"Advice?" Jack muttered, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds suspiciously like responsibility… and if you know me, I avoid that as much as I can."
After saying that, Jack took a long drink of rum and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, swaying slightly before stepping closer to the mirror again.
"But…" Jack added, leaning in closer, almost pressing his forehead against the glass. "If you're speaking with the great Jack Sparrow… then clearly you have good taste. And that already puts you above most."
Gale did not look away. He knew that if he hesitated, he would lose this opportunity to have a proper conversation with this man.
"I want to sail beyond what everyone believes is possible," Gale said firmly. "I want to cross the sea… to discover what lies beyond the island where I've always lived."
Jack let out a dry laugh. "Ah… the classic mistake of youth: believing that the unknown is better than the known."
"Let me tell you something, boy…" Jack said, raising a finger. "The sea is not your friend. Nor is it your enemy. It's… something worse."
"It's honest."
Gale frowned slightly.
"The sea doesn't lie. If you're weak, it sinks you. If you're foolish, it devours you. And if you're afraid…"
Jack smirked. "Well, then it lets you live just long enough to regret it."
Silence settled between them for a few seconds.
"So… what advice do you give me?" Gale asked, knowing this man could give him the qualities he needed to become a good navigator.
This time, Jack looked at him seriously—no jokes, none of that carefree air.
"First, decide what you're willing to lose."
Gale blinked, slightly confused.
"Because every real journey," Jack continued, pointing at him with the bottle, "demands a price. Friends, home… even who you think you are."
The reflection in the mirror seemed to ripple slightly, as if the world itself hesitated to sustain that conversation.
"And second…" Jack smiled again, returning to his playful tone, "Get yourself a good ship—one that's ready to face the end of the world and bring you back alive."
Gale couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."
Jack turned around, but before disappearing from the other side of the mirror, he raised his hand in farewell. "Ah, and boy…"
Gale looked up. "Never trust anyone who doesn't have a plan… unless that someone is you."
Gale stared at the mirror for a few more seconds, his expression slowly changing.
"Tell me how to navigate without a compass."