The following excerpts are transcribed from Vyse Dyne's personal journal. Year Minus One, Before Eternal Era. Documents were shared with the author and reprinted with the captain's consent. Some content has been omitted for the sake of privacy. You're welcome, Vyse.

Day One: Our entry into the South Ocean started this morning and at first the only remarkable thing was how barren the stretch of sky ahead of us was. Even in the most remote parts of Meridia, you can usually peer ahead to something on the horizon. Windmill Isle can spy both Shrine Isle and Green Cliff. From there you're close enough to Aster Island that you could send a proper semaphore message between lookouts on the clearer days. In South Ocean, there's little more than clouds and the smallest spits of rock that pass by; there's hardly a view downwards either. The mouth way into the crossing is all clouds and possibility.

It's easy, in that sense, to see why so many people have tempted fate and sailed further inwards. For a while, there's nothing wrong. South Ocean sky corridors touching the Mid Ocean lanes are deceptively calm. We sailed at least six hours today in relative calm. It was almost boring, if I'm being honest. All the excitement of sailing into new skies gets undercut by the fact that there's nothing at the start of the South Ocean to catch your interest. No wreckage or odd phenomenon. It's sky. Vast and brimming with possibility that never seems to manifest. That's how the South Ocean catches you off guard.

The wind was at our back heading into the South Ocean and that apparent wind compounded with the Jack's small frame to the point that even if we didn't have our fresh engines, we'd have kept accelerating apace. Aika was pleased since it meant time away from the engine room; she's taken Fina up on magick lessons during the journey. From the bridge, I was able to watch the two of them train out on the ship's deck. With quiet guidance and a smiling face, Fina outlined fundamentals for magickal control until Aika's crystales pillars spiked higher than ever. Fina dissipated them with a sweep of Silver obviation. It was like they were working together to create beautiful statues one after another. Aika would focus inwards and release a swirl of purple light that snapped into a fresh, icy configuration that Fina would inspect before dispelling with Old World techniques. I don't know what words they shared during those lessons but I do know they seemed at ease, and I felt equally comfortable watching them. It's hard to think of Aika as some sort of battle mage and yet her growth with spellcasting in the month or so since we've met Fina are clear.

I wish I knew how to tell her how proud I am. She's growing so fast! I wish I'd found the strength to thank them for making the sailing pass with such magickal beauty. Ice and silver and smiles make for a mighty fine combination even if all of us know that whatever crystales spell Aika next casts will likely be in service of destroying some Valua machine or warding off a Moon Crystal's guardian. Yet, even knowing that, I didn't feel dread watching that lesson from place at the helm. It felt reassured. It'll be good to join in the next lesson if I can.

As we struck the afternoon, the South Ocean revealed itself in earnest. No more wind at our backs. It was a mix of crosswinds and a truewind that pushed back against the Little Jack. The deceleration was subtle but started to grow more and more. That's when all hands were needed and the lesson ended. I kept at the helm with Drachma to help guide me on the best ways to beat into the wind. Aika and Fina slipped back to the engine room to prime our stolen parts. They're a good pair for the taks; Aika's a natural gearhead and Fina's got all sorts of knowledge swimming in her head. It helps that the toys we stole from Belleza are so impressive too. The first is an experimental regulator cap that allows the energy from burning moonstones to exceed what you'd consider "reasonable" limits. Even a ship like the Little Jack ignores commercial standards but to press against the South Ocean winds, the engines need to push far beyond any acceptable baseline. Without that regulator and Aika's innate sense for feeling when an engine will kick on a moonstone chug, we probably would have been blown backwards. Which brings in the second of our stolen toys: a purple moonstone coil. The coil affixes to the engine and creates a sort of cooling system. The regulator means faster speeds and that means more heat strain on the engine regardless of the stones we're feeding her. The coil prevents any overheating by flash-freezing when it detects a certain temperature threshold. The question is: will the winds increase enough that we'll be putting that thing to her limits or did Drachma's junker-rigging place the Jack in steady enough hands?

I think the most likely scenario is that increasing winds will mean working in more deliberate shifts. For the moment, me and the captain are alternating shifts at the helm. Aika and Fina can handle engine room matters as needed but we'd need to talk about who is on call during what hours. Aika isn't ready to forgive Drachma as easily as the rest of us, so if there's any need for long hauls with a partner she'll probably run with me. For the moment, it doesn't seem necessary; the engine's holding fine enough. Heading deeper into unmarked territories of map? Well, we might have to take those shifts.

We're not sailing entirely blind for this first leg. About ten years ago, a group of Rogues led by Captain Vane tried to build a base some league deeper into the South Ocean. The idea was that no one would ever look for them there. They called it Breeze Cove and by all accounts it was a fair enough hideout save for the fact that it wasn't quite so hidden enough from the Valuans when the time came. Captain Drachma used to do business with Vane and apparently knows where the outpost is. We're going to swing there tomorrow, see what excess supplies might be found, and try to map out a forward path from there. It's mostly an excuse for one final bit of leg stretching before the long scump through the ocean. Breeze Cove is about as deep into the South Ocean as anyone was foolish enough to build so plotting a course from there to the Green Continent so it's not like there's much to go on. We'll make port there tomorrow and see if there's anything left to pilfer before pressing on. It's hard to imagine that Vane and his crew didn't at least make a few scout trips further west so maybe there'll be some information on what to expect.

It's a good start and for whatever the hell else comes our way, we'll adapt. It'll take more than the skies' most dangerous wind corridor to stop us from ruining Valua's day. Whatever they're up to in Ixa'taka now after all these years, whatever damage they caused, will be answered for and we'll clip off with the next Moon Crystal before they even realize who hit them. Figure we owe Doc Ortega that much.

Day Two: To hear the story told, Captain Charles Vane danced the line between Blue Rogue and Black Pirate. Drachma huffs his name with enough venom that it's clear there's no love lost between the two men. Vane needed supplies and Drachma needed somewhere he could barter for stolen Valuan goods. Breeze Cove was out of the way but Drachma would sail to the Moons if it meant getting better weapons to aid in his hunt. Which Vane always seemed to have in excess. He was a raider through and through; even I've heard stories of the months-long rampages of the Ruby Heart and her crew. Violent, swirling into patrol paths like a storm and leaving no Valuan breathing save for the rare bastard they'd maroon with a day's water and a flare. Very few survived long enough for patrols to find them. Cruel stuff but Vane always targeted Valua first and foremost. I think it's the only reason people like my father or Drachma feel comfortable talking about him at all. If Vane turned his ire towards the common man, he'd be more hated than Mad Eye Oakes.

When we arrived at Breeze Cove, I was surprised that it didn't splinter into pieces the moment Drachma stepped on the dock. From a distance, the remaining structures seem to sway perilously in the wind. Maybe that's part of the charm. When you place your foot down and find solid wood beneath you in spite of every part of your mind screaming that you'll fall through the moldy planks and into the deep sky? Well, it's kinda impressive. Breeze Cove is a stubborn place hanging on by a thread. It's not some mighty pirate base; it's a rickety old whisper of a dream. Vane's dream was the dream of any pirate: free skies. A stake of your own and a place where your crew might live without reservations. The catch is that most people opt for safer skies than South Ocean. For one thing, there's less wind knocking everything over and secondly there's actually places nearby to flee to if you need it.

Which Vane did. You can only screw with Valua with that level of ferocity for so long before they come looking for you. We all know that lesson damn well by this point but where Galcian decided to bombard everyone back home, Vane's foe was more patient. Drachma doesn't know how the Valuans found Breeze Cove; he thinks that some boatswain named Renshaw might have snitched in the end. Whatever the truth of it, Vane's dream died slowly. Admiral Gregorio, the old emperor's brother, sailed out from the mainland and set a blockade around Breeze Cove that lasted for about two months. The cove is exhausted as far as supplies are concerned. We peeked into the storehouse and found it had little more than dust and a few specks of rotted grain. The dining hall held some sorry skeletons slumped over old goblets and the only remaining flag that I could find was slashed into ribbons. What was once a picture of an arm holding a red gemstone heart was little more than strips of fraying cloth holding together out of spite alone. I don't think Vane or his men did that; no pirate would ever shear their own standard.

Drachma says that Gregorio offered quarter to anyone who would surrender but no one did. Some gave up in their own way but even when the admiral offered to let the rest of the crew go in exchange for Vane alone, the Ruby Heart's crew stayed hunkered down in Breeze Cove. Then, the old man says, they had a party to end all parties. Popped the last of the loqua and laced it with whatever poison they could so that they could drink their way into the afterlife. He says you could hear the music all the way from Sailor's Island. Which is definitely a load of crap but makes for a great story. Songs and sex and drinks and laughter ringing from continent to continent. The party to end all parties. Revelry and then silence. I could think of worse ways to die.

Aika said it was a waste. That they should have packed ships with however much powder they had and blown as much of the Armada's blockade into pieces. I agree but you have to wonder if they even had the strength to do that much. Months on dwindling supplies, isolation pulling at your brain. I'm in favor of giving the Valuan's a crack in the jaw whenever there's a chance but that assumes you have the ability to raise a fist. Vane wasn't going to surrender but without the means to really land a blow against Gregorio, a different course was taken. I think Aika is right; in the end, the Ruby Heart's crew chose to give up. At the same time, it was a shared choice between friends and lovers and shipmates. We saw plenty of musty skeletons today in Breeze Cove but were they cowards' remains? I'm not smart enough to make that call. Life is best lived on your own terms and maybe that means choosing the how and when of leaving it behind as well. If anything else, I don't think my father "gave up" when he turned himself over to Galcian. He was trying to save lives. Vane and his crew took a less noble path but they flipped off the Empire in their own way.

If there's one thing that bothered me today, it was how Fina seemed pained with each new corpse we found. Drachma took it well in stride; a few times he'd even offered his greetings to someone he clearly had known in days gone by. Fina? Well, it almost seemed like something was clawing at her. I asked about it and she tried to explain that Silvites, because of their study of life and death magicks, feel the ripples of violence and death more keenly than other folks. For her, it was like Vane and the others were still around. Or at least she said that she could feel an echo of that evening; the mixture of happiness and resignation cut with burning anger at the end of it all. I can't rightly claim to understand it but I don't need to. What mattered was that she was in distress. But when I asked if she wanted to return to the ship but she smiled and say no. Explain that even if we couldn't hear it, there was still music playing in these halls. She kept close afterwards and her eyes looked at each fresh corpse as if it was an open book.

Our visit risked becoming a distraction save for the fact that Aika found navigational charts in what I can only assume was Vane's office. The wind current maps are probably out of date but it confirms that the Ruby Heart made a few attempts to push further into the South Ocean. Two landmarks in particular have been reliably charted: a rock caught spinning in place that Vane called "Beak Rock." Seems like it might have been a full island at one point before the winds tore it down to a nub in the shape of a hawk's bill. The other is a coral reef that makes the furthest point Vane ever reached. We're taking the charts and leaving everything else as it is. If we took much else, Aika'd probably worry about ghosts for the entire trip. Besides, I gotta imagine that if Vane were alive and kicking he'd tell us to screw off and test the winds if we felt so damn inclined to beat his own forays westward.

"Go and best me, lad. If ya think that damn dinghy's got the gusto." Okay, old timer. Watch me.

Day Three: The wind is rising. The last two days were manageable but we're starting to hit near gale winds and beyond. It meant a lot of work inside the ship and not on the deck. I spent the morning with Aika affixing magick cannon attachments to the Little Jack's main gun battery. In some ways, they remind me of the coil we stole; you snap the augmentation rings around the neck before the muzzle swell kinda like how the purple moonstone coil affixes to the engine. Drachma thinks that it's meant to make modifications easy on a mass level. Makes sense to me. If two snot-nosed Rogues could handle a slew of guns by the afternoon, a Valuan cruiser's engineers could outfit far more in less time. Honestly, I find the technology impressive and scary. These parts alone have opened up new travel possibilities and battle options for a ship that's at least two decades old. What does that mean for new ships, and by extension what's that mean for the sky? I feel an excitement thinking about what's across the ocean and how we now have a means to reach it but I'm left with a worry: what happens when we run out of empty spaces on the map?

I don't know if that's even possible. The sky could stretch on forever although plenty of people think that if you sail far enough, there's an edge that you fall right off. If that's true, it means that if we sailed long enough we could see everything. That sounds romantic until you realize that "everything" means there's nothing left. The idea of a map where everything is known? Makes me sad to even think of. There's a version of history where the world starts off feeling big and then becomes smaller and smaller. We're in the middle of unwinding that history and technology is making that process speed along faster and faster. Imagine looking at the sky and not having anything left to wonder about. Seems pretty terrible to me. And yet, here we are in a ship that should, by all means, not be able to handle these winds. We're sailing along with the aid of compact and easily implemented modifications to a "new" continent full of discovery. If the sky way packed with engines like this? All sorts of people could meet and learn from each other but that seems the utopian way of looking at it. There's also the other truth: technology like this will make it easier for Valua to spread. What might make for new connections and discovery also can facilitate conquest and violence. I dunno what to make of that tension.

Hard to consider that we're heading to a place that is supposedly "undiscovered" even if the Empire is already there. Especially since there were people living there already too. If I mark things down in my journal and share them with the guild, they might even say I "discovered" new things about the Green Continent but that's not true. If I came back to the guild with a brand new fruit plucked from a tree or whatever, it's not like I discovered the fruit. Chances are people in Ixa'taka have eaten it for centuries, and yet the guild would have the balls to say "What an amazing fruit you've discovered, Vyse." Sits wrong in my stomach to think of that and yet that's where my mind wanders today. There's so much to see in this world and our journey will mean a chance to see and report so much back to the guilds and everyone else. But at what point is one man's "discovery" nothing more than a type of thievery?

I can't think of anyone who has reliably sailed to the Green Continent and back besides the Valuans, so I wonder what happens if we pull it off. Does the name "Little Jack" get woven into books that later generations will read? Ever since the fight with Recumen, my mind's been reeling with an understanding that this journey is one where history is going to be made. It's a trip that will take us under each and every Moon; only Daccat's ever managed that and not even he had records left behind. But when we go somewhere, I'm going to write as much about it as I can. The people, the animals, the land, the magicks, the food, the sights. I want to relay it all respectfully. With the right mindset, an explorer is a guest in new lands. With the wrong mindset, they are invaders.

Maybe that's a weird thing for a pirate to say. Especially since we need to take the Moon Crystals from wherever we go. I can only hope that we're able to explain our mission to the right people when the times come and help them understand what's at stake. I cant imagine what might happen if another Gigas woke up. Hell, the winds are a good reminder of that. Fina says there's stories of how the Blue Gigas, some type of grand bird, cut through the sky from nation to nation and made fresh rifts in its wake before it was called back to the land under the Blue Moon. Fina thinks that the South Ocean itself could be remnants of that rampage. Recumen cut a fresh canyon into Nasrad with those damn energy blast so the idea of a bird flying fast enough that the wind simply never stopped afterwards? Doesn't seem too improbable to me. I don't want to imagine what else a Gigas could do to the world.

The afternoon is winding down now. Fina used the cannons to blast a mixed sacri and wevles magicks ahead of it. It's cleared out some of the chop up ahead. Blue and green particles are dancing on the wind but it's only a temporary respite. Seeing those small shimmers of light give me hope though. If anyone will help us bridge gaps with new peoples we meet, it'll be Fina. Just like the wind has calmed thanks to her magicks, her kindness will go leagues to proving the sincerity of our mission.

I want to be the world's friend. Let Valua see the world as something to claim. Let them measure it in miles and minerals. I choose to embrace it as something far more important than that.

Day Six: Vane's chart shows us closing in on his furthest venture inwards, which means we'll be sailing without much sense of anything after that. It could be only a few days or a few weeks but it'll be a damn pain one way or another. We fired off another mixed magick burst to dull some of the winds while they were still fair enough to be controlled. The buffer space around the Little Jack provided enough calm that I could find some time with Aika and Fina on deck for a magick lesson while the captain took the helm.

I've never been the best at magicks. Fire spells are easy enough but the common consensus even among lay people is that destruction magicks are easier than something like restorative green magick spells or especially illusory magicks. I've been able to handle a snap of pyri for some time and even pyres when the occasion called for it but nothing's ever come to me as quickly as it seems to snake into Aika's mind. I asked Fina about that: what exactly was the difference that made Aika the more natural mage? The answer was complicated and not anything I'd really known. I assumed it was innate talent and Fina says that's probably some of it but that magicks are a matter of biology as well. Didn't understand what she meant until she laid it out plain. According to her, our bodies contain pathways that carry magickal energy the same way that blood is carried in by veins and arteries. Some people have a high density of these "circuits" in their body and that means they have an easier time channeling and shaping spells.

All Moons and their stones give off a sort of energy, Fina says. The Silvites call it "glimmer." The nature of each moon and their stones alters what that glimmer is capable of. In the Old World, stones weren't needed to cast spells because people simply had more of those fancy magick circuits in their body. After the Rains fell, something changed. Fina doesn't have a good explanation for that part except that such a widespread calamity would have tossed stones around in ways that caused plenty of strangeness. Odd energy waves, glimmer disruptions, maybe even some gloom coverage that blocked off a generation or two from basking in the Moons' glow. Long story short: Aika's able to perform magick more easily because her body simply has more pathways for the glimmer to flow through. It's why she can learn purple spells without too much of a fuss even if her father lived under the Red Moon and she was born under the Silver. I don't like like entirely. I like the idea that anyone can do whatever they want with hard work. Fina didn't disagree; she simply stressed that it's a hard fact that magickal potential changes from person to person based on more than determination and grit. Anyone, in theory, can cast whatever spell they want so long as they have the right moonstone.

Which left me sweating through the afternoon as Fina walked me through the steps of a different kind of magic: enhancement. Instead of lashing out with magickal energy, you let it swirl and build inside you. For red magicks, the most basic version is a spell called increm. Apparently, the same focus that goes into creating fire can be recycled in the body to increase your own strength. Make you jump higher, swing a sword with a bit more bite. That sort of thing. It's not the easiest concept to figure out at first though; I'm pretty used to using a stone as this "in-between" thing. Fina says the word is a "focus." I picture the fire, feel the stone in my hand, and then the energy leaps out of the stone and at the target. Increm is a bit different. I need to ignore the world around me for a moment and feel nothing but the energy in the stone. Then I need to imagine myself as being stronger.

Magicks, Fina says, are partly a matter of belief. The more powerful we believe a spell will be, that helps make it so. The more ferocity you can muster for your flames, the hotter they'll burn. The more empathy you have for the wounded, the greater your healing spells will mend. But until you've felt invigorating magicks jolt through your body, it's pretty hard to clearly imagine the effect. It wasn't enough to think "stronger" or "better." Those were too limiting, Fina said. The trick was to find the things in my heart that I wanted to become stronger for; to focus on the reasons I'm fighting and use that to power the magicks.

The spell hurt to start with. I think I wasn't entirely prepared for the change that would come from making that sort of inner strength into something real. I scooped Aika up and lifted her right over my head. She protested a little but we all mostly laughed. That laughter is what I'm fighting for. Moments where the three of us can be content and happy. The world is on the edge of a dangerous change if Valua finds even one Moon Crystal. What I want is a world where worrying about that could be a thing of the past. Free skies. With the two of them. Laughter and light and excitement. The moment I think of that world, of the sort of life we could have in a world free from empire and greed, the magicks flow without reserve.

Did I tell Fina any of this? Of course not. I think Aika might've seen the change that came over me in the moment leading up to my successful spell but that's not a surprise. We're all fighting for each other. For Fina. I don't know how long this journey will last or what it will demand but there's nothing I won't give for a world like that. It's bound to call for some blood and pain, no doubt. I don't have any illusions about the fact that there will be moments where it feels easier to give up than to keep going. But I picture clear skies and them at my side and it all makes sense. It fills me with strength even when I'm not casting a spell.

I want to make that world a reality because anything less than that seems like a damn shame.

Day Nine: This is as far as the maps go. A wall of coral touched with wispy energy. It's a pretty dramatic sight. As the Little Jack came on the marked position from Vane's chart, a smattered blast of islands and rock drifted through the haze. Twisting growths of coral and glimmering skyweed grasped most of the sides, which seemed to form a bottleneck pass the closer we drew to them. I've never seen anything like it; there've been times I've caught sight of what you might call a reef but this is as vibrant and full a collection of sky life that I've seen. If the winds were calmer and there was less risk of running afoul of the walls, it'd easily be one of the most popular fishing sites in the entire sky. Then again, there's a small catch to that..

As we drew closer, the air started to grow hazy with spores and a bittersweet smell like burning sugar. I'd never experienced anything like it but it stirred the nearby fish into a frenzy. They surged along the reef and around the bend. Didn't believe what I saw when the Jack took the turn. It was like a flower of sorts, a huge and protruding bloom from one of the largest rocks that ended in wriggling arms and odd tentacles. The fish, particularly the larger tuna, slipped closer and closer as if hypnotized and then, without any warning the damn thing pulled the biggest of the fish inwards and tightened the tentacles around it. A few of them even lurched towards the Little Jack but I wasn't going to risk even a single drag on our side.

Fina says it's called an anemone. Some type of living sack that's a bit like a fish that never finished whatever the hell process goes into becoming a fish and instead splat its rear against a rock. There's a mouth and some type of digestive system and it is "alive" but mostly survives by drawing in fish with those strange spores and then subsisting on whatever draws close. I think if we'd realized what was here, and the wind made it possible, the better course would have been to cut the Jack around the reef entirely but we're at the sky's mercy here. Cutting through the reef meant less crosswinds to knock us about; it just also happened to mean slinking by one of the damn ugliest things I've ever seen. I know about barnacles and other such things but this thing is huge. Big enough that it could probably snag a Spectre with the fattest tentacles and pull it inwards. Dunno if it would be able to digest the ship but I've no doubt that it would still try. Doesn't seem to have enough sense to determine what's a fish and a boat.

Makes me wonder if this is as far as Vane's charts go because something happened. There's enough ship wreckage here that I can guess that a few souls pushed this far and didn't play things so safe. Grabbed by something half-way between flower and monster. Nature saying "you might want to turn around right now, pal." It definitely feels like a warning sign. The sky beyond the reef looks darker and far less manageable. Which is saying something considering that we've barely had a reasonable journey here save for our engine upgrade and a bit of magickal intervention. Feels like we're crossing a line in the sand. That difference between a spot where things are difficult but bearable and one where things are complete Hell on the winds. Plenty of people would turn back.

I wouldn't even if there was a choice. Whatever is on the other side of the line, I'll face it. With Aika. With Fina. The captain muttered that we'd have to be the "right kind of daft" to keep going forward. I'm happy to oblige and I get the sense that he's even secretly enjoying it as well. This is the smallest drop of the strangeness that can be found in the sky. It's beautiful and terrible and scary but that's the fun. When you see something new, there's this moment where the world inside you grows too. Hour by hour, league by league, I feel myself becoming more myself. I don't know what the final result will be but if I'm lucky it'll be enough to get the job done and maybe test some of the same skies that Daccat did. Won't be easy, sure, but few things worth doing are.

Day Thirteen: Starting to think I've tempted fate a little bit with the words here. Each day beyond the reef led to darker skies until yesterday's full out storm. The winds started to swirl hard enough that forward progress slowed considerably. We're lucky to not be tossed backwards right now but the engine's holding true even if the coil seems fit to burst. Aika's been keeping a close eye on it and thinks that if the winds somehow pushed further, the damn thing might shatter and leave us for a lurch. The minute she said that was the minute things started getting worse. It started as odd hits against the hull, a series of pings and dings from something swirling in the air.

It was gold. Actual piece of gold twisting around and hitting the Little Jack. Huge towers of wind and clouds, taller than anything I've ever seen, began to form around us. Cyclones. Wind spinning in a circle like huge columns. Even one of this size could pick us up and toss the Little Jack halfway across the sky. This storm has three of them and from the looks of all the lost bounty and wreckage that's twirling around the air, these things managed to snag anyone who might have pressed beyond the anemone. If we had different nets, the Jack could let them low and pull up a haul of gold and odd trinkets. Beautiful if it wasn't for the fact that one movement too close to any of those twisters could leave us spinning here in the South Ocean until the end of days.

We're working in full shifts now. Captain insists on having his hand on the helm for the night time and Aika's sucked up her pride to take those hours so Fina doesn't need to alter her sleeping. Not that anyone will likely sleep standard hours; Aika's got too much invested in the engines to close her eyes and leave them for her dreams. She's popping up about every two hours to give a look over and check in. Captain's made a few wayward trips to the bridge too. He says there's never been a storm in his memory that's lasted this long with all this strength. He expected it to die down heading into the second six hours but there's been no sign of anything slowing down. Instead, there's the constant churning of wind and peppering strikes of wreckage against the hull.

It's not all doom and gloom. We at least know that if we keep at a relatively equal distance between all the twisters, the wind seems to stabilize a little bit. It's in the straying even a degree off that point where the ship threatens to get sucked away and ripped into shreds. The battle, at least at the helm, is a bit like those strange wire acts you hear about. Don't move too much to port, don't cut to starboard. Hold a forward course and aim straight ahead lest the storm split the damn hull down the middle. The acrobats say that the trick for walking a wire is to not look down or think too hard about what you're doing. This navigation is similar. You turn enough that you can keep from being pulled astray and the best way to do that is to imagine your destination right in front of you instead of hyperfocusing on any of the storms around you. I guess that's a good way to handle anything, right? Picture the goal instead of obsessing with the hazards.

Damn if this isn't going to drive me daft if it keeps up though. There's reward in hard work, sure, but this is the most grueling sail work that I've ever done. You don't realize how hard your hands are grasping the wheel until you let go. Gotta imagine that Valua's lost plenty of ships on this route even with the new tech. In some ways that makes me less nervous about what we might find in Ixa'taka. It's too risky to commit ships to this route without taking on some losses. My gut says that they've kept just enough forces on the Green Continent to get the resources they need and nothing else. Which'll probably mean easier sailing than I first imagined.

That's a meager balm when you're caught between storms this large however. You'd think that sailing on the winds surrounded by gold would be a pretty romantic thing, and I guess for moments there's something captivating in the swirl, but when you're in the thick of it? Well, you can't afford to forget things for what they are. We're a wheel's slip away from death but I guess it's not really fun otherwise..

Day Sixteen: We fell asleep together last night. In spite of the storm building and the sky brimming with bursts of thunder, the three of us passed out in the girls' cabin bed. I feel damn odd about it to say the least even after sharing a room in Maramba. Four days into the storm and alternating shifts, the pressure of everything crashed down like a wave. I think we all just hit a wall at the same time. Started with Fina; even through the winds I could hear her crying. I don't blame her. She's not a sailor and hasn't ever dealt with even lightly choppy skies. For her first storm to be something like this? I'd be a mess too.

Hazarded a knock on the cabin door and it was nearly two whole minutes before she opened up. Tried to wave everything off, acting like she was being silly or over-dramatic. I could see the marks on her face where tears fell and ask what I could do for her. In so short a time, she's become an astounding friend. One of the most important people that I've ever met. Took her a moment before the word managed to slip from her mouth: "stay." So I did.

Didn't know what to say, so I started rambling about this storm that hit home when I was around seven. The thunder would crack and then Pow would mimic the noise. Tiny pup trying to compete with the storm. Pow, pow! Said that in a way, and this sounds corny I guess, that we're kinda like that. Small thing barking at this big swell strong as to make Fina feel like she was caught in the Rains of Destruction. Said it was okay. Storms pass, right? We survived Recumen together so we'd survive this together. Fina was shaking during the largest thunderclaps so I just placed my arm around her and we sat on the mattress as the room rattled around us.

She asked if I was scared. I told her "of course," but I didn't explain that I was talking about more than just the storm.

I don't remember much more of it after that. Everything slowed down and then it faded. Woke with Aika smirking down at me so sharp that I felt my face burn with heat. Thought she was going to say something but she smiled. "I get it," she said and it was like she'd given me permission to let all my pent up nerves melt from my body. Been carrying myself on edge for days now, gripping the Little Jack's wheel with so much worry because of what it would mean to get tossed even a splash astray. Three words and Aika made it feel okay to let my own guard down. Which is damn hard. I haven't felt the same since Valua. I might never be the same.

Haven't really talked to anyone but Belleza about it and yet I get the sense that Aika understands some of what's going on. People back home were treating her differently too. But out here in the storm? We're all just a bunch of damn fool kids who chomped off way more than anyone's ever chomped. "I get it," she repeated and, you know, I grinned so hard. She didn't need to say anything else. Hell, even when I got up to leave for my shift all she did was shake her head and that was enough to get the point across.

The winds outside were still swirling but the thunder was gone. Something was changing throughout the air and even if I probably should have made my way to the bridge, I fell back down to the mattress and slipped to bed. Woke up a few hours later and snuck my way out. Captain Drachma raised an eyebrow but not much of a fuss. I'm sure he'll give me shit for everything later but I think even the old man knows, in spite of not being able to do it himself, that sometimes you need to exhale and take time to properly reforge your mind. For me, that just meant a few hours with the girls but it felt like I'd rested for a year. Swapped off and was left alone with the ship in my hands. The skies ahead were cleaning up and all that was left to do was keep apace towards the horizon.

Day Twenty: There's leaves in the wind. We're close…