A Fisher’s Last Cast

“The waters compassed me about, even to the soul: the depth closed me round about…” -Jonah 2:5 The flood of pain now subsumes me. As the last vestiges of my humanity evaporate like sea foam, I know that the time has come to reflect on the event that led me to this chair, this incurable injury, and this great sense of loss. Ages ago, my brother was known as the Fisher King. Together we served King Artorius. One day, we went fishing like usual, casting our nets into the sea. When out of nowhere, we hear something emerging from the depths. I will never forget that sound, like impending doom. In my darkest nightmares and my brightest hopes I hear it. You will see why. A monster, like a seething wall of muscle and slime blasted out of the water, smashing our boat like a child’s toy. One moment, my brother was standing next to me. The next, a gaping maw pulled him in like a riptide, and then, gone, swallowed behind a row of teeth. No! I swam after him, but the teeth slammed shut, severing my leg and my bond with my brother. I have not been whole since. The wound refuses to heal, but this is nothing compared to the loss of my brother. He was never seen again. Something about that damn fish prevents it. But I know he’s still alive. And I will find him. I have been following Gladys for ages, tracking her patterns and behavior. I know where she will reappear next, and what bait will draw her out. Alas, I am too weak to cast the line myself. To whomever reads this: you can still save my brother. Catch the specified bait and go to the attached location. If my timing is correct, Gladys should appear shortly. Perhaps you can succeed where I failed. Oh, my dear brother, I fear that our years apart will soon be stretched into eternity.