A Scripta

So the muse whispered a story in my ear, a transparent moment like gossamer wings she wears...

It was a calling. Idaho paused a moment to turn and look out into the bay at Talos Island, away from the land and out into the ocean, westward.

Nate'd be proud of you, son.

Idaho turned, burst into flame like he did when he was startled. A white-haired, dark-skinned, bearded man with glowing white eyes sat among the boxes. He was transparent, like many people who wore invisibility cloaks.

The man wore a cowboy hat, long duster coat and carried pistols. He looked like he had stepped out of a western. He smiled. This was my favorite lifetime. I was a scout and later a lawman in the Dakotas.

"You read minds?"

He chuckled. I'm a ghost.

Now Idaho noticed the man's mouth didn't move. The man stayed there, seemingly frozen.

"You know my original?"

Knew. He's dead.

Idaho blinked. "D...dead?"

Your agent friend will tell you soon enough, Duncan, I thought you'd rather hear it from me. Yes, indeed, Nate would have been right proud of you. It's good you didn't see him as he was before he died, Duncan.

"Who are you?"

He sang a few notes and then said, That translates to Lodestar. I was his Kheldian bondmate. I loved Nathan Joseph Greene. I died in his body.

"Where..." Idaho's sudden tears dried as the fire caught them. "Where's the body?"

Lodestar faded away slowly. I now join my friends, he said smiling. You are not Masonry, you're your own man.

The last word faded among Idaho's flames and the ocean's wind.