The Resolute cuts steadily through the water, its sails full as the journey continues. Life aboard begins to settle into a rhythm, though unease and curiosity are never far behind.

Hatsu Toshitsugu begins by retrieving the Book of Vathros from Dash Heidmann. Within its pages exists a pocket dimension that holds countless displaced souls. Once the book is in his hands, Hatsu reaches inward, forming a mental link with Vathros, the Shadowed.

Weslyn begins by reaching out across the veil of dreams, seeking Amelia. In her sleep, he asks for help with the Bastion and the growing number of new townsfolk. He is uncertain whether she understands the message as anything more than a strange dream, but the attempt is made all the same.

Eldrin returned from his prayers to the unsettling sight of a ship on the horizon. Even at a distance, its silhouette was unmistakably military, and it was cutting through the water at an unnatural speed.

The group pauses to consider their next steps. Dash suggests that their priority must be shelter, food, and homes for the survivors of the Siege of Saigo no Toshi, the people they managed to teleport away and bring safely to the Bastion.

The world dissolved into drifting leaves the colour of nothing he had ever seen in the Isles. The sky glowed pink like spun sugar, with light that never dimmed. The ground swayed in gentle waves like the ocean underfoot. Even his shadow didn’t mimic him, its pose shifting independently.

The fires of Saigo no Toshi were still burning when the group gathered around Dash’s still body. The blood moon had not faded, and the city’s ruin pressed in on all of them.

The storm over Saigo no Toshi had not yet settled. The blood moon still loomed high, its crimson glow bleeding through the clouds as the aftermath of chaos rippled through every street and soul.

The siege drags on, and the group pushes through another frantic stretch of chaos and discovery in Saigo no Toshi.

The night began with the group pressing forward on their infiltration of Saigo no Toshi while the sky churned with the promise of rain and the approaching chaos.

The night before everything changed, Weslyn woke with a start. His dreams had been too vivid, too heavy with truth. Dr. Harrow had spoken to him there, as real as any waking voice. But when he opened his eyes to the dim light outside Saigo no Toshi, he decided not to tell Slate. The truth of it felt too sharp to hand over. Instead, he found himself standing awkwardly beside Dash’s tent, waiting for the man to stir.

The group lingered on the outskirts of Saigo no Toshi, studying the barricaded walls that once welcomed travellers and merchants with open gates. Now the city stood silent, its beauty smothered beneath cruelty and decay. They needed a way in, but every route seemed sealed.

The group stood before the walls of Saigo no Toshi, and what once had been a city of warmth and grace now looked more like a tomb. Corpses hung from its ramparts, its great gates sealed shut, the air thick with the smell of death.

A large, black-furred predator, upright and unnaturally lithe, moved with the patient cruelty of a thing that relished violence. Its fur drank the light around it. Its eyes were small, bright coals, and its mouth opened on a cluster of needle teeth. Long, hooked claws flexed and flexed again, and an old, ragged scent of iron and old rot clung to it like a halo.

Eldrin held the unconscious Chicken close, his hands steady but his mind reeling. There was something profoundly calm about it, a peace that washed through him like sunlight filtering through leaves. Whatever had changed in the little fox, it brought him a quiet strength he hadn’t known before.

The party’s story in Asazaki continued with Eldrin visiting a shrine dedicated to Tempestas, a marble pillar crowned with the bust of a bald, bearded man radiating power.

The companions found themselves in Asazaki, where old ties and new revelations intertwined.

The night began with raised glasses and sharp stakes. Slate, still disguised as Dash, continued his drinking contest with the dread captain, Sarran.

The night began with simple conversation. Rest was fleeting.

They had been trapped in the book realm for what felt like a thousand years—surely their shared struggle warranted something to bind them in name as well as deed.