Did you accidentally trigger the wrong location? If you were heading to BB14 at the pier to battle the monster with the Book of the Sun, then keep following the map to that location to continue the story you’ve chosen.
The water, normally so placid, rushes up to meet the shore, tearing loose the protective netting around the artificial lagoon. Trees sway around you as an unnatural wind howls in from the sea. The Old One lumbers towards the shore, revealing its great, crab-like head and grasping, clacking claws. Beneath the claws is a writhing mass of lashing tentacles, whipping around in a mad frenzy.
You and Abramelin skid to a halt as, pushed by the wild tidal action, the cowboy pontoon slides against the beach. The pontoon is sitting on the sand, bent at the waist and shaking its head. Made of foam and bleached by the sun, the cowboy looms over you like a giant, crusted with salt spray and wet sand. As the Old One rears back and bellows, a sound that triggers a genetic memory of terror, deep unbridled fear from the dawn of time, the Cowboy struggles to its feet.
“Well,” it says, in a rumbling baritone. “This is a rough one.”
“Who the hell are you?” asks Abramelin.
“I am everything kissed by the sun, every wild splash in the ocean, every wave caught and every gnarly wipeout!” says the Cowboy, putting its faded foam hands on its hips. “The spirit of endless summer, of hot rain and blue skies. I am the guardian of this place, and I’m racked off about this bloody mess.”
Abramelin stares up at the Cowboy, slack-jawed.
“The spirit of the Gold Coast?” you ask.
“The Genius Loci, yes,” says the spirit.
The skies begin to darken, reddening like spilled blood.
“But you’re a pontoon,” says Abramelin.
“Right now, sure. This isn’t a time to be choosey about manifestation. Utility is king in a pinch.” The statue frowns at Abramelin, then turns to you and its foam expression softens. “This is it. The great defining moment. They happen all the time, in all kinds of places, but this is the first for here, and the first for you. You have the book. You have the will. Now don’t bugger it up. Climb on and do your duty.”
“But what do I do?” you ask.
“You’ll know,” says the Cowboy, laying back in the water. “You really should read more.”
You scramble atop the pontoon and it lays flat, paddling out in the water towards the Old One. As the pontoon travels against the wild tide, water tainted with black foulness sloshes over the cowboy and stains the foam. You flip desperately through the pages of the Book of the Sun. There, on the very last page, is an incantation to summon the sun itself. If you time it right, for just an instant, you can bring down the full fury of Sol on the corrupt creature lurching out of the ocean.
You close your eyes, feeling rather than reading, letting the magic flow through you. Your fingertips brush over the words and you speak them, power sparking and crackling in the air around you. Above, against the red sky, the sun begins to blaze white hot, larger and closer than ever before. You feel the heat against your face, a rushing roar in your ears drowning out even the twisted alien speech of the Old One.
Your own voice rises higher than the apocalyptic crescendo building around you, your back arches with the strain. You raise your hands, letting the book fall into the sea and you pull down, dragging the sun from the sky, focusing the full force of its destructive power onto the slimy, armoured body of the Old One, like a child with a magnifying glass and a luckless ant on a bright day.
There is a long, terrible shriek that rips through you, pain exploding in your ears and chest and then blackness so complete it seems nothing has ever existed at all.
You wake, alone and adrift, floating on the pontoon, now silent. Seagulls wheel overhead, careless against a blue, cloudless sky. In the distance, you hear Abramelin calling from the shore. You can’t make out what he’s saying, but he sounds delighted.
Hope he doesn’t mind you lost the book.