临终仪式 Last Rites

“救…命，”沉船的水手哀求道。

“Help… me,” begged the shipwrecked man.

约里克无法推测这位幸存者在这里躺了多久，他多处骨折，鲜血流过沉船的残骸。他的哀嚎声很大，但却被岛上无数冤魂的声音彻底掩盖。他身边萦绕着一团幽灵组成的漩涡，垂危的生命像黑暗中的灯塔一样吸引着它们，新鲜的灵魂是它们永远渴求的食粮。那人惊恐地睁大着双眼。

Yorick couldn’t say how long the survivor had been lying there, bones broken, bleeding into what remained of his wrecked sailing vessel. He had been moaning loudly, but his cries were drowned out by the multitude of wailing souls that haunted the isle. A maelstrom of spirits gathered around him, drawn to his flickering life force like a beacon, hungry to reap a fresh soul. The man’s eyes widened in horror.

他的确应该惊恐。约里克看到过黑雾夺走游魂的样子，而他，他可是温热的活人，是暗影岛上的稀罕之物。约里克已经有多久——一百年？——没有见过活物了？他可以感觉到自己身后的迷雾在抖动，想要用冰冷的拥抱迎接这位陌生人。但是眼前这番景象激起了某种约里克早已遗忘的东西，这种模糊的感觉让约里克不肯放弃这个生命。这位壮硕的僧人将伤者举起来扛在肩上，带他向山上的古寺走去。

He was right to be scared. Yorick had seen what happened to lost spirits taken by the Black Mist, and this—this was warm flesh, a rarity in the Shadow Isles. It had been how long—a hundred years?—since Yorick had seen a living being? He could feel the Mist on his back quivering, eager to wrap this stranger in its cold embrace. But the sight of the man stirred something in Yorick he had long forgotten, and whatever it was would not allow him to surrender this life. The burly monk heaved the damaged man onto his shoulders and carried him back up the hill to his old monastery.

约里克观察着这位伤者的脸，每走一步，他都忍着剧痛发出呻吟。你为什么到这里来，生者？

Yorick studied the face of the injured man as he groaned in agonized protest with each step the monk took. Why did you come here, live one?

爬到山顶以后，约里克又带着他的客人走过了几条走廊，最后来到一间古老的医馆。他将伤者安放在巨大的石台上，检查他的伤势。这人大多数肋骨都断了，一侧的肺已经坍缩。

After completing the climb, Yorick carried his guest through several corridors in the abbey, before coming to a stop in an old infirmary. He eased the shipwrecked man onto a massive stone table and began to check his vitals. Most of the man’s ribs were shattered, and one of his lungs had collapsed.

“何必浪费时间呢？”一群浑厚的声音问道，约里克身后的迷雾异口同声。

“Why do you waste your time?” asked a chorus of voices, speaking in unison from the Mist on Yorick’s back.

约里克没有说话。他离开石台，来到医馆后方的一扇厚重的门前。门很难被推开，他的手只是在厚厚的灰尘上留下了掌印。他用肩膀顶主门板，用全身力量靠了上去。

Yorick remained silent. He left the table and made his way to a heavy door in the rear of the infirmary. The door resisted as he pushed, his hand doing little but leaving a print in the thick layer of dust. He pressed his shoulder against the wood and heaved his entire weight into it.

“再用力也只是徒劳。”迷雾戏谑着说。“交给我们把。”

“So much effort for naught,” sneered the Mist. “Let us have him.”

约里克再次用轻蔑的无言回应他们，终于将门顶开。厚重的橡木蹭着寺院的石砖，后面的房间里装满了卷轴、草药和瓶罐。约里克出神地望着他生前的这些遗留之物，努力想要回忆起如何使用。他拿起了几样看上去很熟悉的东西——绷带，已经发黄变脆，药膏，已经干结凝固——然后回到石台旁边照看那位伤者。

Again, Yorick answered it with contemptuous silence as he finally forced the door open. The heavy oak dragged across the stone tiles of the monastery floor, revealing a chamber full of scrolls, herbs, and poultices. For a moment, Yorick stared at the artifacts of his former life, struggling to remember how to use them. He picked up a few that looked familiar—bandages, yellow and brittle with age, and some ointment that had long turned to crust—and returned to the man atop the stone table.

“别管他了，”迷雾说。“他来到海滩上的时候就已经是我们的了。”

“Just leave him,” said the Mist. “He was ours the moment he came ashore.”

“安静！”约里克厉声说道。

“Quiet!” snapped Yorick.

石台上的人现在正在艰难地呼吸。约里克知道时间所剩不多，他想要包扎他的伤口，但腐烂的绷带刚一绑好就会碎裂断开。

The man on the table was now gasping for breath. Knowing he had little time to save him, Yorick tried to bind his wounds, but the rotten bandages fell apart as quickly as he could apply them.

他的呼吸越来越短促，突然一阵抽搐。他痛苦绝望地抓住约里克的手。约里克知道只有一样东西可以救他的命。他扭开了颈前的水晶小瓶，思忖着里面盛装的生命之水。只剩下很少一点了。约里克不确定这一点是否足够拯救这个人，而且即使足够……

As his breath grew more ragged, the man convulsed. He grabbed the monk’s arm in agonized desperation. Yorick knew there was only one thing that could save the man’s life. He uncorked the crystal vial at his neck, and considered the life-giving water it contained. There was precious little left. Yorick was unsure if it was enough to save the man, and even if it did…

约里克不得不面对现实。救人的行为只是他对自己昔日生活的追忆，那个时候这片诅咒之地还叫做福光岛。迷雾中的灵魂在嘲笑他，无情的现实在嘲笑他。这个人已经必死无疑，如果约里克使用了生命之泪，他自己也必死无疑。他拧紧了小瓶，将它挂在颈前。

Yorick was forced to face the truth. In trying to save the man, he was just chasing the memory of his former life, when this cursed place was called the Blessed Isles. The souls in the Mist had taunted him, but they’d taunted him with the truth. This man was doomed, and if Yorick used the Tears of Life, he would be too. He closed the vial and let it rest against his neck.

约里克从石台旁退了回来，看着那人的胸膛最后一次起伏。黑雾灌满了房间，恶灵充满渴望地伸出了黑爪。迷雾急切地颤抖着，将死者的灵魂从尸体中抽了出来。它发出了一声微弱无力的嚎哭，然后被新的主人瞬间吞噬。

Stepping back from the table, Yorick watched the man’s chest rise and fall one last time. The Black Mist filled the room, spirits clawing out from it in anticipation. The Mist shivered eagerly, then ripped the dead man’s soul from his body. It uttered a faint, feeble cry before it was devoured by its new host.

约里克一动不动地站在屋里，凭着依稀的记忆说出了一句祷言。他看着石台上的躯壳，苦涩地想起了他尚未完成的那项任务。只要破败之咒继续存在，任何来到这片群岛的人都会遭遇相同的命运。他必须让这片被诅咒的群岛获得安宁，但经过这么多年的搜寻，他找到的只有关于破败之王的传闻和轻语。

Yorick stood motionless in the room and uttered a barely remembered prayer. He looked at the soulless husk on the table, a bitter reminder of the task he had yet to complete. While the curse of the Ruination remained, anyone who came to these isles would suffer the same fate. He had to bring peace to these cursed islands, but after years of searching, all he had found were whispers about a ruined king.

他需要答案。

He needed answers.

约里克做出一个手势，一缕迷雾注入了尸体。片刻以后，它从石台上坐了起来，几乎没有任何自我意识。但它可以看，可以听，可以走。

With a single motion of Yorick’s hand, a thin strand of Mist poured into the man’s body. A moment later, it rose from the table, barely sentient. But it could see, it could hear, and it could walk.

“帮我，”约里克说。

“Help me,” said Yorick.

尸体摇摇晃晃地走出了医馆的门，缓慢的脚步声在寺院空荡荡的大厅中回响。它走进了墓地的瘴气之中，路过一排排只剩空壳的坟墓。

The body shambled out the door of the infirmary, its sloughing footsteps echoing through the halls of the monastery. It continued out into the foul air of the cemetery, walking through the rows of emptied graves.

约里克看着尸体深一脚浅一脚地走向岛屿的中央，最后消失在迷雾之中。或许这一个能够带着答案回来吧。

Yorick watched as the corpse trudged toward the center of the isles until it disappeared into the Mist. Perhaps this one would return with the answer.