Celicia Port plus 27
Acting Captain’s Log
Coalition Calendar Year 477
27 days from port
I haven’t slept in a few days. Cyril has stood at the tiller around the clock, even taking his meals there. The crew huddle below-decks, listless. The Bones encroach on us from all sides, and the sails remain furled.
Cyril has not told us where we’re going, and none of us are brave enough to ask. We work in shifts, using the foremast’s broken shaft as a brace to keep us from striking the rocks.
It grows harder to discern day from night in the growing twilight of the Boneyard.
What’s worse, the crew have begun to hear voices echoing off the rocks. I don’t know whether it is my own fears or actual sounds, but I’ve begun to hear them too.
I despair of ever getting free of this place.
(Continue to Celicia unknown entry 1)