Wenzley's Voyage

Day 17, the first of Duskmire, 214

My faith that I will make it to Salem frays like old rope. If only I checked on the voice last night, maybe he'd still be here. Benjie went missing, Last anyone saw he was on his cot. We looked around the ship but the only thing out of place was a puddle near his cot. Thoughts of the witch Captain rambles about begin soaking my thoughts. The thick atmosphere enclosing all of our chests, suffocating any conversations that may have wanted to breathe. Some of the men murmured hollow theories of suicide. I have a hard time believing that, why would a man who boasted about Orion industries want this. They knew him better so I can’t truly speak on this.

 Most of the day was spent going about our tasks necessary to keep the boat in running condition. There is no time to spend mourning here in the great waters of Electia. I don't believe much in the divine but the sunset tonight was one painted by Orion himself. I walked outside hoping the cool air and sunset would help me feel real again. Sailing closer to our equator now invited a warmth to the rather cool air. Looking off the railing my eyes got lost in the sunset. The waves caught the twin suns' crimson glow with gilded caps. Thoughts of you hugged me I almost thought you were really here. My attention came back as sable shadows swallowed the deck. I noticed a wall of rain off the stern, moving towards Zeikiel coming from that cursed island. I was excited at first thinking of how refreshing the rain might feel after the burn of being confronted with death. As the rain climbed aboard the ship a glassy sheet followed behind as if a sheet of crystal was being fitted to the ship. I began to worry so I ran for the door, the rain was faster and it began to burn as the rain met my skin. Blue icy veins covered my exposed skin. I reached for the door but I met the deck first. I crawled the last couple steps to the door. Ice sealed me out, I still had my tool belt and broke the ice. A few good tugs and the door opened to an inviting warmth.

 I ran to tell captain Borgan but he acted as if he already knew this was going to happen. Anguish nor happiness exist on his face, just a cold stare. Maybe he was trying to think of a plan, a minute later he finally spoke “get warm” he looked me in the eye with sorrow like he wanted to say sorry but knew it wouldn't help, ”her feast only begins”. I could no longer believe this witch was just a fairy tale. I was angry with myself and the crew for not believing him sooner. Maybe we could have been more prepared, maybe Benjie would still be here. I finally found the words to say to the captain “how can I prepare for what is next?” Borgan rubbed his beard and looked at his compass, I noticed it was pointing every which way “For now convince the rest of the men”. I didn't get a chance to ask him about the compass before I was ushered out.

 Having the slightest idea of where to start I made my way to talk with Ryclair, our navigator. I asked how much longer until we got there but he said the weather was too bad to give a good estimate but he told me 17 maybe 20 more days depending on if this rain holds up. I showed him my arm and the marks the rain had left on me, I told him it was the doing of the witch. He scoffed in response, “oh great the Captain's withered brain is corrupting you. What next, O.I. is run by wizards?”. I actually had to think about that for a second but I shook my head. “No, I am serious, there is something wrong. I was outside when the rain started and it instantly froze as it hit the ship, and my skin”. He knows as well as I do it is nowhere near cold enough to naturally explain that. Telling him the rain came from the island straight towards us helped plant more doubt into his mind. I could see a shred of him start to believe, this would have to be good enough for now. Dr. Pentz and I crossed paths and I asked if he could take a look at the icy veins left on my skin from the rain. He walked me to his examination room to take a closer look. He told me it was chemical burns from earlier in the day that didn't react until it made contact with the rain. The tone of his voice sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. According to him he is a man of science and doesn't have time for kids' stories. I couldn't stay and try to convince him any longer. It was getting late and there were another 17 crew I had to convince. His remedy of choice was a shot of whiskey, he handed me a bottle from his personal stash. I took a shot or three to help steady myself and find the courage to talk to these men, burly as some are.

 Two hours later, that's 200 minutes or 20,000 seconds, I have convinced but only one other. James, he was the youngest of us at a mere 10 years old. He's still just a young man barely out of school, for his mothers sake I hope this witch is merciful. After many sour looks, scoffs and eye rolls I rolled myself into my hammock where I write this for you now my Love, I hope you find yourself in warm blankets tonight. I love you my dearest, until our hearts meet again

Sincerely Goenero