You can't remember when the world first started shaking, this little fragile patch of reality with so many cracks and such little support to keep it from breaking apart, but something was always going to give. It was just a matter of time. Nobody knew what really triggered the fall. Was it the breaking of the chains which kept your little quiet island floating in the sky all this time, imbued with the energy which kept it going for so long? Was it the final earthquake that split the lands of the humans, far below your precious little civilisation? Or was it something else?

It's easy to blame the humans who live beneath you, blame them for every little thing that goes wrong in the world. You're high enough to avoid the worst of the toxic gases that they leak into the atmosphere; you're smart enough to know not to drain the planet of what few resources remain to be cultivated; you're fast enough to hide yourself when they create a multitude of new dangers, unleashing terrors into the wild.

There is no war here, no government, no violence, no weapons or need to do anything but survive on your own and help each other out. The air is thinner here. Humans find it hard to breathe at this altitude without special equipment of their own. You pity them, but at the same time you admire them for being resourceful enough to create tools enabling them to come all the way up here. Then you remember what had to be sacrificed for such tools to be made, and you no longer admire them so much.

The island you've lived on for your entire life, along with your family and friends...is beginning to fall.
> You proceed
The wind howls in your ear as the island plummets towards the ground far, far below. No chains to keep you secure. No energy or power to keep you airborne, not anymore. Everything has been used up. This is where your home is, your village, your life; clusters of little grassy huts assembled in neat little circles, built to resist the strong winds of this height. Your people have long grown used to the lack of oxygen up here.

It isn't your home anymore.

You clutch onto the beautiful green grass covering the ground, grass which comes off in clumps in your hands. The air pressure is affecting the land and you watch in mounting horror as pieces of your home are savagely torn away from one another. You're not the only one, either; dozens of people are desperately trying to keep their houses secure before they too are ripped asunder. A doomed effort, because the gravitational pull is tremendous.

You do not see your parents anywhere. You fear they may have been dragged over the edge to their deaths, like so many others. This settlement is not equipped with appropriate equipment to land upon the human-inhabited grounds, thousands of metres below. Nobody would think to do anything like that.

The roar of the wind grows louder and louder in your ears, and the pressure on your body forces you into a narrow crawl. You cannot even raise your head, at the speed you are falling. Cracks appear in the ground around you, and you realise that this is no longer a case of keeping the island secure. The settlement is already done for. It will not survive.
> You crawl towards the ruins of your house nearby
You claw your way towards what used to be your personal residence. The roof has been torn off, the front door is hanging on by mere threads, and the interior has been devastated beyond recovery. Only pieces of shattered wood remain here now. The wind picks up, and for a second you almost lose your grip, but you somehow manage to make it inside. What remains of the wall here serves as a temporary shelter.

Even so, the feeling in your gut tells you that the entire island is picking up more speed than before. The chains will not be repaired: it is not going to stop. Your chances of survival are slim at best.
> You keep your head down and seek shelter within the wall
You crouch against the inside of the wall, covering your head as the deafening noise continues all around you. Earlier on, you could hear the cries of the other people as they sought shelter within their fragile little huts, but now there is nothing to be heard but the endless howling of the wind. A chill seeps into your bones, but that is the least of your worries right now. This wall will not hold for long. You may as well be stranded in the middle of the ocean, clinging to a broken piece of driftwood as the storm rages on.

As if eager to give you confirmation of this, small cracks begin to spread out across the wall where you are hiding. The entire island is shaking, causing the cracks to widen.
> You stay against the wall
You stay braced against the wall, unwilling to move from this spot. This is your home. You will not abandon it, no matter what. More cracks appear all over the wall and start to crumble away; the wind whistles through the holes, and you can feel its chill upon the nape of your neck.

It’s too late to try and escape your fate now. Everything is already destroyed. Your possessions, your livelihood, the people you grew up and formed relationships with. What else is left? What else can the world take away from you now? Home is where the heart is. You close your eyes and start repeating that small phrase like a constant mantra: home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is –

The wall collapses at your back, nothing but rubble now. You feel a moment of terror before the wind picks up speed and you are thrown off your feet, clumps of wood falling uselessly from your bleeding fingers. You scream as you are flung from the surface of the island, spiralling towards certain death far below…
> You proceed
The pressure mounts in your ears with a fearsome intensity, and your entire world turns into a mass of endless sound and impending pain. You fall for what seems like forever, desperately clutching at any means of support, anything at all. There is nothing for you to catch on to. You fight to draw breath, but your stomach feels as if it is being squeezed to breaking point. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open; your vision blurs and pinpricks of light flash before you, multiplying in number as your speed of descent increases further...

As you fall, you catch sight of a heavy chain extending from the base of the island. You’ve never had the opportunity to see it up close before, and it’s sad that you can only do so now, in circumstances like these. The chain extends a short distance below the island before ending at a shattered black ring. Energy no longer flows through it to keep the island aloft. It has been split apart from some exterior force.

Confused at what this could mean, you gasp for breath as you fall with the island. The last of your strength fades. Unconsciousness falls upon you, and what you know of your world is consigned to complete blackness.
> You proceed
You hear voices in your ear, indistinct faces in the gloom around you. There is no pain, but the wind is still quite fierce and there is only a tiny semblance of touch or feeling. You try to move, but your body will not obey you. Everything seems too bright and loud for you to make out anything but what is immediately nearby. Too much light. Too much volume. It is difficult for you to tell if you are dead or alive. Only the presence of pain suggests the latter.

“Why, Mother?” a woman's voice whispers at your side. You are just barely aware that she is not addressing you, but someone else whom you cannot see. “Why do you choose to help her? Our burden is upon you, to cleanse us of our impurities and prolong our life force, but you lack judgement in this situation. You lack common sense. Do you seek to betray the rules and regulations of the Gahl'vuhr Sehn at its core? The Unworthy ones do not come to you. They do not know half of what you do for us. Yet now they fall from their sky islands, falling into nothing, now that the world finally stops turning. Leave her be. Leave her to die.”

You feel warm hands pull you free, and a sense of strange nostalgia washes over you. It’s difficult to describe, after all that’s happened, but some of the tension eases away. It feels like…it feels like home.

“Do not save her, Mother,” repeats the voice unfalteringly. “The Unworthy ones do not wish for absolution. Do you understand? They do not want your blessing, Mother. Waste not, want not.” And then, in a fainter voice, so quiet that you could have sworn you imagined it, “This is not our way, Mother. This is not how we behave in the Gahl'vuhr Sehn. You will regret your folly.”

The howling has stopped.
> You proceed
You awaken in more peaceful circumstances. No longer are you falling to your death at hundreds of miles an hour, deprived of everything you once held dear. For a split second, you are hopeful that everything which transpired was nothing but a cruel nightmare, designed to bleed you dry of all positive emotions. It certainly felt like a dream. As your surroundings become visible to you, however, you become painfully aware that this is reality.

Instead, you find yourself lying on a comfy bed inside a small, square room, with no memory of how you got here. Evidently, somebody has gone to a lot of trouble to make you feel at home here. A glass of water is placed on the bedside table for you, and a few pillows have been propped up just underneath your head.

Dizzily, you start to sit up and are surprised to find that you can do so. You also discover that you appear to have sustained no physical injuries at all. How could you possibly be unhurt? Your first thoughts are that one of the foreign sky races must have treated you upon impact, but they are surely too far away to have reached you in time. Your island was quite isolated from other land masses and never received many foreign visitors or travellers. Could it be that you never hit the ground at all?

Perhaps this is the afterlife, and you are to be judged for your transgressions in the events leading up to your death. In any case, you will not find out by simply lying in this bed all day. You feel well enough to get up and walk about now, so perhaps it is time to explore your surroundings in some more detail. You still do not know where you are.

As you start to get up, there is a vicious snarl from the corner of the bedroom.

With a start, you realise that you are not alone. A green-skinned muscular creature is glaring at you from a short distance away, sporting sharp claws, four arms, and a barbed tail. It is much bigger than you are and seems to be sizing you up. A mutant? You can’t think of what else to call it. There are tales of sky races long ago which were said to engage in such experiments, creating their own warped definition of new life…

Fortunately for you, the mutant is confined within a large iron cage. It shouldn’t be able to get out. You eye it warily and quickly move past it.
> You inspect the mutant further
The mutant snarls at you intelligibly as you approach it. With a body composition like that, you doubt that this creature evolved naturally; no, it was likely the result of a hideous experiment with organic matter and some unknown toxic material. That’s your best guess, really, but you’re still at a loss to explain why your apparent rescuers put you in the same room as this vicious beast. The mutant seems to have been in this cage for a very long time.

You peer at it curiously through the bars, and the mutant suddenly slams all four of its claws into the cage. That makes you jump a little, but the door of the cage is quite sturdy and refuses to budge, no matter how much the creature bashes at it. It’s not going to escape any time soon. A padlock on the cage door also prevents you from letting it out, just in case such a thought passed through your mind.
> You search the room for valuables
You make a quick search of the bedroom, being careful not to stray too close to the mutant’s cage, but there doesn’t seem to be much of value here. A wardrobe has been placed against the wall, but contains only foul-smelling rags which are filled with holes. You consider tearing off a fragment of your bedsheets instead, but decide against it once you consider that your situation might be the outcome of limited hospitality.

After a few more minutes, you do find a strange scroll under your bed. It is written in a language that you do not understand, if it is a language at all; strange symbols and archaic runes cover the wrinkled paper. For now, you decide to take it along with you.

As you pick up the scroll, the mutant watches you with a baleful glare. It lets out a long hiss and the skin on its body changes colour to an angry red.
> You inspect the mutant further
The mutant snarls at you intelligibly as you approach it. With a body composition like that, you doubt that this creature evolved naturally; no, it was likely the result of a hideous experiment with organic matter and some unknown toxic material. That’s your best guess, really, but you’re still at a loss to explain why your apparent rescuers put you in the same room as this vicious beast. The mutant seems to have been in this cage for a very long time.

You peer at it curiously through the bars, and the mutant suddenly slams all four of its claws into the cage. That makes you jump a little, but the door of the cage is quite sturdy and refuses to budge, no matter how much the creature bashes at it. It’s not going to escape any time soon. A padlock on the cage door also prevents you from letting it out, just in case such a thought passed through your mind.

The mutant's skin has now changed to an angry red colour. Even though the cage is holding it back, you're wary about spending any more time in this room.
> You ignore the mutant and leave the bedroom to find out where you are
You push open the door and step outside to find yourself in a narrow corridor which extends both left and right. To the left, you feel a gust of wind blowing, rustling through your hair softly. The sensation is not unpleasant. Perhaps there is a window open in that direction. To the right, you can hear the voices of people talking and laughing, though you are not close enough to hear exactly what they are saying. It is possible that they are your rescuers, but you cannot tell for sure.
> You go left where the wind is coming from
The wind grows stronger as you follow the corridor around the corner, towards a set of stairs which lead to the upper level. You’re not quite sure where you are, exactly. You can only assume that you have been taken to somebody’s home, perhaps another faraway settlement, but you must surely be a long way from home. At least, where your home used to be. It doesn’t explain the presence of the mutant in your room, however, so you can only hope that your hosts are not unpleasant company.

You climb up the stairs to find yourself...staring out across open skies. Clouds can be seen on the horizon, clustered in a never-ending sea of blue which surrounds you for miles and miles as far as the eye can see…

This is no ordinary residence. This is no house. You’re not even on ground level. You are standing on the upper deck of a fully functioning airship! No wonder the wind was so strong up here: you must be hundreds of metres above sea level...

You’ve never been on an airship before, but you have seen plenty of them at the island where you lived all your life. Some sky races use these aerial vessels to transport goods and cargo between islands, others simply for transporting passengers. However, they can be slow and unwieldy to operate, and they are not especially durable; a fierce lightning storm can easily put an airship out of commission. For this reason, airships are usually designed for short voyages with a minimum of passengers.

It’s like something out of a dream. A real airship. You don’t know where this one is headed, but it has to be somewhere better than where you came from. Where do you want to go, after all? No, the bigger question is – what happened on the surface of the land far below? What prompted your island to fall in the first place?

As you gaze out thoughtfully across the open skies, there are footsteps behind you. You turn to see a young woman with long red hair cascading across her shoulders. There is a hint of recognition in her green eyes as she looks at you.

“Vnwprthy,” she says in a clear voice. “Ypv brf thf Vnwprthy.” She beckons to you with one finger. “Cpmf. Cpmf wjth mf. Thf Cbptbjn wbnts tp spfbk tp ypv.”

Without another word, she turns on her heel and walks across the deck into another section of the airship. You do not understand her words, but it seems that she wants you to follow her.
> You follow the woman
Curious about what awaits you, you follow the red-haired woman across the upper deck and over to the other side. She leads you through another set of twists and turns in the corridors, down into another part of the airship. As you walk, you pass by several uniformed men who watch you with interest. They are not human, but then again...neither are you. Each of them appears to be armed to the teeth. Only now do you realise that they must be part of the ship's crew.

After a few minutes, your guide leads you to a brass door which lies at the top of a final flight of stairs. There is a sign on top of the door, but you lack the knowledge to read the symbols and runes displayed there.

“Gp jn,” she says, gesturing for you to enter. “Thf cbptbjn js wbjtjng fpr ypv.”

At her request, you push open the door and enter the room beyond.
> You proceed
You enter a large, lavishly-furnished room with all manner of alien devices mounted upon the walls, none of which you have seen the like before. One device consists of two gyros oscillating in synchronisation with each other, surrounded by a shimmering coil of energy; another instrument is similar to a telescope upon first glance, but appears to contain three lens of varying sizes at set intervals within its interior; a third device resembles a sundial, but is set into the ceiling and is covered by an array of round discs. Evidently, these instruments must be related to the operation of the airship. You’re not sure whether they are lifelike models of the real thing or not, but they do fascinate you.

From the look of the place, you must be in the captain’s room. Sunlight pours in through two bay windows at the front, and a plain-looking bed is situated in the corner next to a pair of filing cabinets. This cabin seems to function as both a workspace and as living quarters. A large number of medals and trophies stand upon one of the cabinets.

The captain herself stands at the other end of the cabin behind a large desk, dressed in a red and purple uniform covered by various badges to indicate her high status. Much like the other crew members you saw earlier, she is not human and is vaguely reptilian in nature. Thick white hair flows down her back in an elegant ponytail.

“Vnwprthy,” the captain says to you curtly as you enter. “Wflcpmf.”

You look blankly at her, wondering if you are about to subjected to yet another series of verbal questions in a language you do not understand.

“My crfw tfll mf thbt ypv hbvf bffn bslffp fpr spmf tjmf, Vnwprthy,” she says, a disregarding tone in her voice, one used to command. “Nbtvrblly, ypvr prfsfncf hfrf hbs cbvsfd qvjtf b stjr bmpng vs. Whp brf ypv, bnd whfrf hbvf ypv cpmf frpm?”

She looks expectantly at you, frowning when she sees that you do not comprehend her words. With a sigh of disgust, the captain calls out in a sharp voice. The door of the cabin opens behind you, and a red-haired woman with a kindly face steps inside. She appears to be human. It’s strange, because you didn’t think humans could survive at these kinds of altitudes.

“Hfllp,” the red-haired woman says to you gently. When you look at her in confusion, she tries again. “Cpmmpn Tpngvf…Vncpmmpn…He…Hell-oh? Hello? Is…is this better?”

“Yes,” you say gratefully. “That’s better. I can understand you.”

The captain looks quite annoyed with the exchange as the red-haired woman speaks urgently to her. She turns towards you haughtily and clears her throat.

“How about…this?” she says irritably. “You do not speak Common Tongue, or even Uncommon Tongue. A mix of Skylandish and Common Comorrah? Is this really how you talk to your brethren? You Unworthy ones are nothing but a constant pain.”

Seeing that you understand her, she sags back against her chair with some relief. “I see that we have some communication in place at last. I am the captain of this ship. I will make a few things clear right now, Unworthy – I do not tolerate stowaways who drop out of the damn sky, taking up additional resources than I can spare for my crew. I don’t care if your island fell into the ocean. That’s no excuse to litter my ship with your worthless carcass. Damn nuisance, you people are!”

She throws up her hands – or rather, claws – in a gesture which suggests she likes to complain. “Are you aware that Mother Ghared chose to save your life?” The captain nods her head towards the young red-haired woman standing next to her. “As official members of the Gahl’vuhr Sehn, it is against our policy to save the life of an Unworthy. That’s you, by the way. Anybody outside our organisation is an Unworthy. I wasn’t happy about this at all. Mother Ghared is far too soft in these matters.”

“Captain,” Mother Ghared says in a passive tone of voice, “I believe you did not bring the Unworthy up here to give her a tirade on her existence. She must be quite tired after her ordeal. Her island is not the first to plummet towards the ground, nor will it be the last. An exchange of information is required.”

The captain glares at you, but reluctantly acknowledges her words. “Very well,” she says. “Unworthy, you are free to ask me questions about your situation. But after you have finished, I have some important questions of my own.”
> You ask her about this airship
“You stand aboard an Auvahr-Tenur Airship, Year 2XX5, Model CXXP,” the captain says with a certain note of pride in her voice. “We Auvahrs are known well for our skill in ship construction, but see little sense in naming them. These vessels are not built for long journeys, as you may know. Although the Tenurs work on the advanced mechanisms, it is not mandatory to employ them as members of the crew and we carry no Tenurs aboard at this time.”

She appears to be referring to the races which populate the various sky islands. You have heard of the Tenur race before, but have never encountered Auvahrs before. For your entire life, you have been content to remain on your little island without once venturing out into the unknown. At times like this, you wonder if such a decision was altogether wise.

“Where are you headed?” you ask.

“Island 45H, according to the sky charts,” she answers. “You Unworthy ones do not name your islands, do you? How quaint. We can respect that, but it makes it harder for us to make a decent reference point. Among us Auvhars, the island is known as Majeruk.” The captain glances at one of the instruments in front of her. “We will reach Majeruk within the hour, at which point you can disembark and get off my damn vessel at last. Unworthy, we carry a decent amount of cargo on board and I will not have your presence contaminate the merchandise further. I will be glad to be rid of you.”

This news brings you some hope. It sounds as if you might have a chance to reach an island not unlike the one you left behind. That seems a sensible way to proceed right now: move on, rebuild, and re-settle upon a new island. It seems that not every island has met the same fate as yours, but how long will that last? When will the world stop shaking?
> You proceed
The captain of the airship waits patiently at her desk, awaiting your next question.
> You ask her about the people on board
“This airship carries only Auvahrs and one human,” she says dismissively. The captain appears to be referring to the races which populate the sky islands, though you have never encountered an Auvahr in the flesh before. “A standard crew, including mercenaries to guard the merchandise should we run into any trouble. We also carry a few valuable prisoners from the last island.” There’s a pause, and you wonder if she might be referring to the caged mutant you saw in your bedroom.

“What about…” You voice the question which has been plaguing you, glancing over to the red-haired woman. “Mother Ghared? She’s a human.”

“Quite right,” the captain replies. “Gahl’vuhr Sehn policy requires that every airship within their organisation carries a representative proficient in restorative abilities, to ensure survival of the crew in the worst-case scenario. It was Mother Ghared who saved your life, against my express wishes. She may be human, but she is a formidable representative of the Gahl’vuhr Sehn and can withstand the high altitudes, thanks to her rather abstract nature. If you wish to speak to her whilst you are here, you will do so only with the greatest of respect.”

You look towards Mother Ghared, but her expression betrays nothing of her inner thoughts.


The captain of the airship waits patiently at her desk, awaiting your next question.
> You ask her about the Gahl'vuhr Sehn
“I should have anticipated such a question from you, Unworthy,” the captain says, scowling. “The Gahl’vuhr Sehn is a governing body which oversees all operations and protocol undertaken by us Auvahrs, as well as Tenurs and some subspecies of Comors. They strictly enforce the rules and policies put in place to maintain some sense of order among the sky islands, although Unworthy ones such as yourself are unfortunately exempt from such regulations.

“However, it has probably not escaped your notice that Gahl’vuhr Sehn has their work cut out for them at the moment. Just a bit of chaos going around, that’s all, thanks to what’s going on at the surface. I should also mention that just because myself and my crew are members of the Gahl’vuhr Sehn, we are not especially high-ranking in the organisation.” She cocks her head to one side. “Perks of the job, you might say. It’s probably the only reason why I let Mother Ghared save your skin.”

You have never heard of this Gahl’vuhr Sehn, not in all your years living at your island. Rules and regulations? You and your family have never needed such things. That’s the whole point of life in the sky islands. You are free. The thought of other people trying to limit such unrestrained freedom makes you feel rather worried about what might be really going on.


The captain of the airship waits patiently at her desk, awaiting your next question.
> You ask her about what happened to you
“Several hours ago, you fell out of the sky,” she says. “You weren’t the only one, either. There were entire islands collapsing to the left and right, and I had to get the ship out of the way to avoid being crushed by the next giant land mass. Mother Ghared…”

Mother Ghared steps forward at this point. “I was on duty at the front deck when you emerged,” she says calmly. “Unlike the others who fell, you had a slim chance of survival. I chose to use my abilities to slow your fall and take you on board. The captain did not approve of my decision, but I was able to persuade her to let you live until we reached the next island.”

The captain shakes her head in disgust. “Fat lot of good that will do us, Mother Ghared. If we’re unlucky enough to run into a Gahl’vuhr Sehn patrol when we reach Majeruk, they’ll want to know why we have an Unworthy on board.” She glares at you. “I’ll just tell them that you were a stowaway and that Mother Ghared refused to let me throw you over the side. Doesn’t matter if the world’s splitting down the middle or if islands are falling out of the damn sky – as far as the Gahl’vuhr Sehn is concerned, rules are rules. They must be followed. I’m so glad that the highest-ranking representative on board has decided to break them on my behalf.”

“You may defer any responsibility to me, captain,” Mother Ghared says. “They will understand. Even the life of an Unworthy can give rise to many new members of the Gahl’vuhr Sehn. The future is always uncertain.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Mother Ghared, but I like my future to stay as stable as possible.” The captain turns her attention back to you. “What else was there? Oh, yes. We brought you inside and had no choice but to put you in the cabin in which one of our prisoners was housed. Not the safest choice, but we are already stretched to full capacity here.”

You recall the mutant you saw in your room. “Prisoner?” you repeat.

“Cargo is not the only thing we transport on this airship,” she states. “Occasionally we are given the task of transporting valuable and dangerous criminals to far-off locations – some islands are used for prisoners alone. “Prison islands”, we call them. Leave them there to rot away, stranded, where they can’t hurt anyone. Better than any of those primitive human jails, in my opinion.” She sits back in her chair. “I’m sure the prisoner didn’t bother you at all. It would be a pretty big problem if that one managed to escape. A single mutant has the means to contact many others of its kind, and those creatures carry grudges against their captors for years. Downright murderous, they are. That's why it's essential that we keep every single one of them locked up.”


The captain of the airship waits patiently at her desk, awaiting your next question.
> You ask her about the falling of the islands
The captain stares at you in amazement for a few moments. “You want to know why the islands are falling?” she asks. “Are you serious? Do you mean to tell me that you really don’t know what’s happening on the surface below?” She pauses, then shrugs as if it doesn't really matter. “That’s probably no surprise. None of you Unworthy ones take the time to explore your surroundings. You’re so satisfied with little things instead.”

Standing up from her desk, she strides over to the door of the room and beckons to you with a single talon. “Mother Ghared. Unworthy. Both of you, follow me. We’re going up to the balcony so that I can educate this girl a little on the world around her.”

Curious about what she has in mind, you start to follow the captain out of the cabin. Mother Ghared is just a step behind you. “Why are we going up to the balcony?” you ask. “What's this got to do with the - ”

“You wanted to know why the islands are all falling, didn’t you?” she interrupts. “Well, I’m not going to tell you. it would take too much time to explain and I can’t remember all the fancy words that you Unworthy ones use. No, I’m going to show you instead.”
> You follow her up to the balcony
You follow the captain back onto the upper deck, onto a raised platform protected by a thick metal railing. Up here, you can see that a mystical crystalline device has been installed into the top of the airship. It seems to be made out of hundreds of tiny pieces of metal, interwoven together in a blend of silver and black. You cannot guess at its purpose, but the whole thing is humming with energy. Surely it must power the ship in some way.

“The lens here will magnify any singular point on the surface, within a set range,” the captain explains. Behind you, Mother Ghared scrambles up next to her. “Right now, it’s focused on one of the human-inhabited regions far below us. Think of it as a giant magnifying glass, except that this one takes about two hours to realign the location. Not very practical, in theory. Usually, we just use it to pinpoint any turbulent weather conditions coming our way, but we don’t have a lot of contact with the people on the surface anyway.” She stands back, allowing you to take your place in front of the device. “Step up to the lens, Unworthy. Take a look for yourself at what’s happening on the surface!”

Warily, you move forward as she requests and peer into the giant lens.

The first thing you notice is just how much detail the instrument is showing you. You can see houses down below. People. Trees. In fact, if you look in the right location, then you can see exactly what people are doing. To be honest, it makes you feel a little uncomfortable to be using a device that could technically be used to spy on people. You adjust the lens using the controls on the side, coming out of focus in order to try and look at something else in the same region.

A black spot shows up on the lens.

As you focus in on the spot, you realise with alarm that you are looking at the ruins of a whole cluster of buildings. No, not just buildings. That’s…that's an entire town. Big enough to be a city, even. It’s just a burned-out hole in the ground. More black spots appear on the lens now, hundreds and hundreds of them, like termites crawling through the earth...

That isn’t all. Some of the black spots are surrounded by a sea of red. You move into sharper focus now, going a bit further up, and see that a red river is flowing from a…a mountain? No. it can’t be. That’s a volcano. That means…

Your heart skips a beat as you swiftly scan the rest of the surrounding region, looking for any signs of life down there. There are still people there. They’re alive, but they’re not living. The earth has cracked all the way down the middle, right across the centre of the entire continent. It’s a crack which extends far and wide, beyond what the lens can see at this position.

The patch of red is accompanied by orange…and then blue. Are those flood waters? Just what is going on here? There’s so much going on at the surface that you can’t make head or tails about what you're really looking at, let alone grasp the bigger picture. Is it just a constant stream of natural disasters? All at once?

“If you are looking for a specific, detailed explanation on what has happened,” the captain says, “then you are all out of luck. Nobody can tell you what happened at the source. If you were close enough to know for sure, then you would already be dead. What you can see before you is what's going on right now.” She gestures to the crack running down the middle. “That’s not the result of a normal earthquake. Nor do we believe that a number of volcanoes erupted all at once, purely by accident. Mother Ghared has offered her views on this.”

“It is possible that there was a split in the energy flow between the human nations,” Mother Ghared ventures. “Everything feeds off energy. Input and output; produce, waste and conservation. Energy is what keeps your islands suspended in the sky. It’s what breathes new life into you. When there’s too much of it in one place, and too little in another…” She shakes her head sadly. “The Gahl’vuhr Sehn call it a “temporal discharge”, although that kind of phrase is largely inaccurate. It’s a measure of great force which saps an enormous amount of resources from the planet itself. The planet, of course, reacts accordingly.” She shrugs. “That’s my theory, but there are others. War could be the trigger. Mass deprivation of world resources. It was always going to happen one day. All we know is that there are no outside forces at work. Everything’s that happened…is something that we did nothing to avoid.

“Needless to say, the effects upon the sky islands have been disastrous. The tremendous energy drain has disrupted the gravitational pull to an extreme, causing many of the islands to fall out of the sky. Countless airships have been leeched of their power, stranding them in open sky.”

“Not on my watch,” the captain growls. “I make my own preparations. When our energy cells were depleted, I immediately had the helmsmen switch to our back-up source and keep us airborne. We should survive until we reach the next island. I don't care what those humans did on the surface, but they're not going to bring an Auvahr ship down.”

Mother Ghared's words swim through your head, but you are still staring at the scenes before you in a state of utter shock. Is this what’s happened to the world? Why? What could be worth this? But at the same time, you remember the experiences you had just days before the island started falling. Changes in the wind. Abstract extremes of temperature and air pressure. Unexplainable disturbances in the atmosphere which were thought to return to normal within the year.

You don’t know what to make of this. You don’t know what to make of any of this. How can you survive in a world like this, so chaotic and constantly at war with itself? Will you really be safe up here in the sky? The only plan you can think of is to find a new island to settle on, somewhere that you can start again. That would be nice. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be nice?

Where do you go from here?
> You proceed
Abruptly, the captain switches off the lens completely. The vision before your eyes turns to a sea of black, disorientating you momentarily.

“Now that I’ve answered your questions, Unworthy,” she says testily, “I expect you to answer mine. Who are you, and where do you come from?”

You don’t see any reason to lie. “We do not name each other,” you say truthfully.

“Excuse me?” The captain frowns distastefully. “You don’t have a name?”

“Nobody is born with a name,” you answer. “Among humans, the parents name a child at birth regardless of whether they ask for it or not. It is not customary to use names among my people. Giving yourself a name only makes it easier for someone to gain power over you. Bearing in mind the kind of lives we lead with each other, it’s unnecessary.”

She swears under her breath, clearly put out by your words. “What am I supposed to call you, then? Pigeon Girl? You Unworthy ones are a strange lot. I’ll be damned if I let one on board my ship ever again if I have to put up with this nonsense! Now, tell me which island you came from!”

“We don’t name our islands either,” you say, confused at the question. “For the same reason.”

The captain gives you a long-suffering look which suggests she is coming to the end of her patience.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter which island she came from, captain,” Mother Ghared reassures her. “You saw what happened. Her island must be at the bottom of the sea by now. Very few survived the fall.”

“All right, all right. Maybe you’d just like to say that when I tell my superiors that I took in an Unworthy on board my ship. Gender? Female. Name? Non-applicable. Place of birth? Some island that fell out of the sky.” She stares at you angrily. “Listen, girl, you’re not making it easy for me to fill out the required paperwork. I’m not even going to ask how old you are, because you’d probably tell me that you only count backwards using the constellations at a certain time of the year. Can I at least get an iota of cooperation from you, Unworthy?!”

As she talks, your gaze is drawn to a strange sight upon the horizon. You hadn’t seen it before, but it looks as if it’s coming this way. Slowly, you step forward to peer at the foreign object approaching the airship.
> You take a closer look at the sight on the horizon
You see what appears to be a mass of black clouds on the horizon, lit up by a blaze of yellow and white flashes. The atmosphere around the airship is becoming increasingly turbulent, and you feel the vessel shake beneath your feet, making it difficult to keep your balance.

The captain turns to see what you’re looking at and swears out loud. “Just our luck,” she mutters. “Damn lightning storm could put us all out of commission.” Without hesitation, she starts to shout orders down to the crew below, reverting back to Common Tongue as she does so. “Bll hflmsmfn pn thf blfrt! Thfrf’s b ljghtnjng stprm bpprpbchjng thf shjp. Bfgjn fvbsjvf mbnpfvvrfs jmmfdjbtfly, pr wf wpn’t lbst fjvf mjnvtfs!”

You see the crew members scramble to their positions quickly, working amongst themselves to turn the ship around before it makes contact with the imminent storm. The captain turns to you. “We’re going to try and steer around the storm, Unworthy. It’s a big one, and with such short notice we might not be able to make it. But I’m confident I can get my ship through this. It's rare for a lightning storm of this size to appear without any warning, but...”

“Is this to do with what's happening on the surface?” you ask worriedly. There was no sign of any such storm until now. The change in pressure was simply so drastic for this to happen naturally.

The look in the captain's eyes tells you the answer to that. “Unworthy, you’d better get yourself below deck where it’s safer,” she says grimly. “Just stay out of trouble. That way I won’t have to worry about protecting your neck.”

With that she rushes down the steps, still shouting orders as the storm draws closer. You hold onto the railing tightly as the ship starts to change course, but at this distance you have a feeling that it might be too late. A crackle of white-blue lightning flashes not too far from the vessel, and the wind is getting stronger.
> You stay on the upper deck, ready to help
You decide to remain on deck and see what help you can lend to the crew members. Mother Ghared disappears down below, and from here you watch as the helmsmen frantically try to turn the airship around as quickly as possible. Before long, the ship is so close to the storm that pieces of wood are being shredded away from the outside of the hull. You grip the railing tightly, fearing the worst…

“Brbcf ypvrsflf!” the captain yells.

There is a horrendous tearing of wood and metal as the storm makes impact. Fearfully, you throw yourself clear from the balcony – and just in time, too. A bolt of lightning flashes down onto the crystal lens where you were standing, shattering it into a million pieces. The crewmen cry out as a violent gust of wind slams into the ship, powerful enough to tear the railings apart. Rain and sleet pours down to accompany it.

Desperately, you search for somewhere to take cover from the storm. This was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have stayed up on deck in this kind of climate. There’s nothing you can do here –

Another bolt of lightning flashes down and rips straight through the mast.

You turn to see the entire weight of the mast fall towards the deck. To your horror, you see that the captain is right in its path, just seconds away from being crushed. None of the mercenaries are close enough to help her. No one is close enough to help…but you.

Even if you did help her, it’s unlikely that you would be able to get out of the way in time.
> You push the captain out of the way
With your heart in your mouth, you race forward and shove the captain out of the way in the nick of time. You see her eyes go wide at her near escape. Then you look upwards and see wit horror that the mast is continuing to fall – right on top of you.

Frantically, you start to move to avoid it, but you are already out of time. You have sacrificed what precious seconds you had to save the captain. Your legs are moving too slowly, far too slowly to avoid the heavy lump of wood which will crush you asunder. Everything seems to move in slow motion as the mast careens towards your helpless body –

“Fprcf!”

A shrill cry erupts from the other end of the airship. The mast shudders as an invisible force slams to it, snapping it further at an awkward angle. You can barely breathe as the fractured beam crashes through the deck barely a metre away from you. You’re alive. You can’t believe it.

You raise your head to see Mother Ghared frozen in position, her hands outstretched towards the fallen mast. Your knowledge of her abilities is still limited, but you understand that this is the second time she has saved your life. The captain is already on her feet, struggling to defend herself from another group of mutants.

Before you can move, you see Mother Ghared slump to the ground. She seems exhausted by the effort of stopping the heavy mast, and the energy drain is too much for her. You start to force yourself to your feet, knowing that if you spend too long dawdling then you won’t have long to celebrate. She needs help, and fast.

That’s when you hear the violent splintering sound below you.

Fearing the worst, you see that the heavy mast has in fact torn straight through the centre of the airship. It is in no condition to fly. The vessel has already been damaged by the attacks of the mutants, and you can only watch in horror as more and more cracks appear, joining together as one…

The airship breaks apart down the middle.

You see the mutants react with surprise as they start to plummet along with their half of the ship. Surprisingly enough, they can no longer fly. You’re not quite sure why, but you have a feeling that their wings from before were only temporary. In addition...part of the airship somehow remains airborne. You’re not in a position to question the laws of aerodynamics right now, but you need to act fast.

Your half of the airship is currently airborne and in no danger of falling – or so you hope. The captain is next to you, slumped in a heap. The other half of the ship is about to plummet downwards, and you realise that Mother Ghared is still on that side. She’s unconscious and has no idea of what has happened.

You have a split second to decide whether to cross over the gap to Mother Ghared, or stay here with the captain. You have no idea what condition either person is in.
> You stay on this part of the ship with the captain
You can do nothing but watch as Mother Ghared is lost with the remaining half of the ship, falling away out of sight. With the last of the mutants gone with her, the bloody battle has ended. The upper deck is covered with the bodies of the dead, both mercenaries and mutants alike, and you find no survivors at all. It’s sad, really. The chaos on the surface has worked its way up here, even though you like to think of yourself as disconnected from the surface as possible…

Right now, there is nothing powering the airship anymore. You are at the mercy of the wind, which blows the vessel this way and that, stranding you here in the middle of the open skies. You have no knowledge of how airships work, and feel you shouldn’t try to mess with the controls at all. You count yourself lucky that you stand upon a ship which is still airborne at all.

For now, all you can do is wait for the airship to drift; here, alone, among the mass of dead bodies on board. There are some supplies to keep you going, but they won’t last you very long. All of the food was stored in the lower deck, and that was the part of the ship which went down.

The captain is lying slumped in the middle of the deck, bleeding profusely from several wounds. She’s alive, but only just. A quick examination of her reveals that she hasn’t got long to live. Only her resilience has allowed her to last this long.
> You proceed
For the rest of the day, the damaged airship drifts upon the wind with no clear or definite destination. You face a lonely vigil here, one of the only survivors among numerous corpses. Whilst you’re here, you try to salvage whatever supplies you can, realising that you may be here for a long time if you are not fortunate enough to reach another island. There a few food packages in the captain’s room, and you are careful to consume only a small amount. These might be your only supplies for a long time…

The captain has not regained consciousness, at least not fully. She mumbles incoherently when you try to rouse her, but you know she is need of nutrition and medical attention. Unfortunately, there are no medical supplies in this part of the ship. Those were lost with Mother Ghared. Unable to wake her, you force some water through the captain’s cracked lips. She coughs and splutters but manages to get it down.

As you continue to drift, you see numerous other airships passing by. However…they give you no cause to celebrate. They, too, are drifting. The crew members on board are all dead, as you discover upon your first encounter; some have been attacked by mutants or aggressive races as happened with you, but in fact you find that the majority of them have been the victim of violent storms or run out of food and supplies completely. In more than a few cases, you find that there is a literal skeleton crew on board, as evidence by the remaining bones that greet you.

The world is falling apart around you, and you can do nothing to stop it. You are the only one out here who remains alive. The chaos on the surface must be affecting the skies, too, since many of the doomed ships here have been drifting for some time. How long has it been since your island fell? How long has the world been like this?

Hours pass, and you begin to feel that you will not survive. Your supplies will not last forever.

It is almost nightfall when you are confronted by a single ray of hope. At first, you think that your eyes are playing tricks on you. An island can be seen passing close to the airship.

An island. It seems like a miracle. There could be people there, people who could help you and give the captain the medical attention she so desperately needs. However, the airship isn’t headed directly for it – you will have to literally jump down onto the island, making use of the few tools still available to you.

As you draw closer, you realise that you do not recognise this island at all. You don’t know if the inhabitants there will be friendly or hostile to you: there might not even be any people living there at all. It could be filled with wild animals. If you choose to disembark, you will not be able to return to the ship, which will drift away and leave you stranded upon this isle.

Furthermore, the angle at which you are approaching the island makes it impossible for you take anyone with you. You can jump down onto the surface yourself with some difficulty. This will mean that you will have to leave the wounded captain behind, ultimately sealing her fate.
> You disembark onto this new island, leaving the captain behind
You take one last look at the captain, who is lying on the bed in her cabin where you brought her up to rest. In the circumstances, she almost looks like she is sleeping peacefully. You shake your head and walk away from her, stepping over the corpses littering the deck. You can’t let this affect you. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices in order to survive.

The island below is coming up fast. If you don't jump now, then you're going ot miss your chance. Crossing your fingers, you grab hold of one of the mooring lines running down the length of the airship, and brace yourself. The wind rushes past you as you swing from the rope and jump from the vessel, feeling as if you’re putting your whole life at stake here. A single misstep could send you hurtling into the void…

Soft vegetation cushions your fall as you land upon the island, winded but unhurt. You’re dangerously close to the edge but you’re safe, and that’s what matters. The entirety of the island stretches around you. It is as yet unexplored territory.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you look up to see the airship drift away and out of sight. There’s no going back now.
> You proceed
You begin to explore the island you’re on, and soon find that it is rich in vegetation, full of nutritious fruits which grow upon the numerous trees populating the land, and carries a generous stockpile of resources. It’s a perfect haven for the weary traveller lacking in supplies. At once, you set to work gathering as much food as you can. The majority of the island is open grassland, though you find a small jungle in the southeast, so it's easy enough to traverse the space here. The wildlife here is not hostile to your presence, but from what you can see, you can easily live off the land here for many long decades of your life.

Further exploration reveals that there are no people inhabiting this island. None at all. That seems a little strange to you, that absolutely nobody has happened upon this place before. Any settler or explorer would immediately seize upon this haven of food and resources. It makes you wonder what secrets must lie here.

The amount of land here is vast, enough to build several towns a fair distance apart! For the next few weeks, you set out intending to explore the entire island. No passing airships or vessels are sighted anywhere near, and you realise with a heavy heart that you are probably stranded here. After all, you are in the middle of nowhere. The lack of people just makes it feel a bit…isolated.

At the end of the second week, you discover footprints. The footprints of people. Someone has been here before, although the marks are extremely faint and some part of you feels that you might have made them yourself. It’s hard to be sure.

It’s really very lonely here. How long are you willing to stay here, after all? How long will it take before you succumb to the ever-present loneliness? It’s been weeks. Maybe you could get used to it, but you can't say for sure…

You decide to follow the footprints you saw. Despite yourself, you’re intrigued about where they came from. You follow them all the way north, around the corner of the island, where they lead into the waters of a vast, beautiful lake. The sunlight paints its reflection upon the shimmering surface, and you shield your eyes from the glare. It’s really a mystery as to what happened to these people. Perhaps you don’t really want to find out.

Aside from the lake and the footprints, you’ve seen pretty much everything there is to see on this island. You also have no way of leaving. It’s not bad, really. There’s plenty of food to feed you for the rest of your days, and enough wood from the trees to construct your own shelter from the raging elements. The wildlife isn’t particularly hostile, so you would be quite safe from danger.

You could settle here – you really could. It’s just that…you’re the only one here, and it’s likely to remain that way. You’ve explored the island for nearly a month now, and there isn’t another living soul to be seen. Well, apart from the animals, but they don’t bother you. You could do anything here. You could run naked through the jungle and nobody would care, because there’s nobody here but you. You could dig a hole underground and lose yourself inside there, bury yourself alive, and scream as loud as you can. Nobody would care, because there’s nobody here but you. You could try to climb a tree, and then fall from a great height. You could break your legs from the fall and nobody would help you, because there’s nobody here but you...

You don’t cope well with loneliness.

One thing you can say about this island is that you’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s not going to fall, not like the other islands fell. You don't know why you think that, because there's no chain or energy flow keeping it aloft...but it's just your gut feeling. It's not going to perish like the others. You would be safe. If you settle here, then nobody will ever bother you again.
> You approach the lake
You walk up to the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of the people who came before you. Strangely enough, the footprints disappear into the water itself. After a moment’s hesitation, you wade into the lake a short distance, curious to find out what really happened here. The water is cool and fresh against your skin, as if keen to make you feel at ease.

To your surprise, you can hear the faint sound of beautiful singing coming from up ahead. You’ve never heard anything quite like it before. The words are difficult to make out, but you are captivated nevertheless by the atmosphere that it creates around you. Intrigued, you push further into the lake towards the source of the singing.

You can make out the words a little clearer now. The water comes up to your waist.

“Welcome, welcome, O traveller of the skies,

Drink from the water, and burn out your life;

Our singing shall ease all your worries and fears,

Come closer, young traveller, for all you hold dear…

The voices fade away, and you are immediately struck by the impact of the silence all around you. Desiring to break the silence, you wade deeper into the lake’s waters. You haven’t heard the voice of another soul on this isle for nearly a month. As much as you hate to admit it, the loneliness is starting to get to you. It would be cruel to deprive you of such company.

You push further into the lake, not caring that your clothes are now drenched. From afar, you can hear the singing voices again. The water level comes up to your chest.

“Rejoice, rejoice, O traveller of the skies,

No need for emotions, to laugh or to cry;

Sing with us here in the depths of the lake,

Naught but your soul and your spirit shall we take…

A strange feeling passes over you, and the singing cuts out. The water level comes up to your neck, turning into a murky green.

Despite yourself, you do not feel that you are in any real danger. A low hum echoes from all around you, almost seeming to resonate from the waters of the lake itself. You can no longer see the edge of the lake anymore. You swim forward impatiently, still searching for the source of the voices…

“What are you doing here?”

The face of a young woman emerges from the water in front of you. She appears to be vaguely human-like in appearance, but when she speaks, it sounds as if you are hearing her voice from underwater. Green hair flows down her back, and you see scales dotting her cheeks. An aquatic lifeform of some kind, perhaps. You didn’t know there were such people living in these waters.

“You’re not one of us,” she says, a surprised look on her face. “Why are you alive? How can you possibly survive here?”

Her questions baffle you. Before you can answer her, a second woman appears from the water, rising up to surface besides her companion.

“Look, sister,” she whispers, pointing towards you. “It’s not a male this time. The men usually drown themselves trying to hear the song, but she…” She smiles faintly at you, pulling back a lock of matted grey hair to one side. You see the hint of fangs protruding from inside her mouth. “We haven’t had a female come here before. Maybe she could join us. Our song has more effect with greater numbers…”

“Another sister?” the green-haired woman sounds dubious. “But we’ve never done that before. Is she…safe?”

“Maybe not, but we can easily change her.” The other woman looks at you curiously. “Traveller of the skies, we are the inhabitants of this isle. Everything you see before you is our property and ours alone. Those who visit our land are drawn into the dark waters and consumed by our sisters and children, giving us new life. We share the energy among us and channel it into the land itself, replenishing it. We do not die. We do not perish. Settlers sometimes come here and seek to drain the resources from the island, but no man cannot resist our song. We take from them what they seek to take from us.”

She holds out a slim hand towards you. “Would you like to join us, traveller? Another female would be a welcome addition to our circle. If you become one of our sisters, you too will enjoy the privileges afforded to us all. However, I will not force you. Should you refuse, we will do you no harm, but please think very carefully before you answer.”
> You agree to join them
“Wonderful,” she says with a smile. “Then let me welcome you in the tradition of our people. A kiss is necessary to seal the agreement of mutual acceptance.”

Before you can do anything, the grey-haired woman moves swiftly through the water towards you and embraces you tightly. Her lips move onto yours in a surprisingly intimate fashion, and you can't quite keep the shock out of your eyes. You can feel your body changing as an effect of the kiss, as if your internal organs are slowly undergoing alterations of their own…

Scales appear upon your face, and the tone of your skin deepens to a pale blue. Your vision begins to go fuzzy, and a small measure of panic starts to take root in your mind. What's going on? What exactly have you agreed to do here? Before you, the woman mouths a single word before disappearing into the waters of the lake. You feel her grip your ankles tightly from under the surface...and pull you underwater with her.

You struggle to break her grip, but in moments you are forced under the surface. With a start, you realise that you can actually breathe underwater. What has happened to you? You feel as if you have gills in place, rather than lungs, and that your body has altered to that of an aquatic being. Fins and scales grow down your body, and any prior hunger or fatigue has lessened as a result. You don't know what significance this has, but…

The two women from before are swimming underwater with you and watching you closely. You see now that their bodies are just like yours, and that instead of legs they have a fish-like tail. Nothing of the sort has happened to you, however, so you are able to keep your legs for now.

“Come, sister,” the green-haired woman says to you, much warmer to you now. She isn't a woman at all, you realise. A fish? A mermaid? “Come and meet the others. Let us share this land together, all of us.”

You swim after her, deeper and deeper through the pleasant waters of the lake. More and more of these mermaids appear from around you, watching you with interest and chatting amongst themselves. You didn't know that so many of these creatures were living down here. You thought the entire island was empty of any intelligent life...

Right at the bottom of the lake, you discover a curious sight. A stone altar of some kind has been built into the lake bed, upon which a human body is tied. He seems to have been dead for some time. You watch as the mermaids surround him in a tight circle, singing in unison. It's almost as if they're singing to his corpse.

“Come,” your companion whispers to you, beckoning you forward. “You should join in too.”

Curious about this strange ritual, you stumble into the circle with her. The beautiful singing echoes all around you, and there is an addictiveness about the harmony of voices which is almost ethereal. You find yourself singing along, too, singing to the human corpse strapped upon the altar. It's mesmerising, hypnotic, and you soon lose yourself in the sound...

You don't know how long you've been singing for, but before long you start to feel a form of energy take place in your stomach. The feeling is not unpleasant. Euphoria washes over you as the energy grows and grows, giving rise to a greater volume of voices than before. Somehow, you and the other mermaids are leeching away the human's composition, converting it into something which will benefit everyone. The other mermaids are feeling it, too. You can see it in their faces. One of them smiles at you, understanding that you are with them, and you can't help but smile back.

The ceremony soon ends, and a new day starts anew. You spend all of your time with the community of mermaids around you, exploring the lake and occasionally going up to the surface when any new settlers think to land upon this island. Each time they do, you join in the singing with your sister mermaids, and watch as the men have no choice but to come deeper and deeper into the waters of the lake. They cannot resist the lure of your singing, and drown in the process.

Every week or so, you participate in another ceremony among one of the drowned men, devouring their body in order to give life back to the island. You feel that you are doing wonderful work here. The bodies of these humans can keep you living forever, really. This is a life that you can look back upon without feeling any regret.

You ultimately remain here with the other mermaids, here upon this seemingly deserted island, feeding upon any explorers foolish enough to try and settle here. The words of your sisters ring true. This is your land. You will not let anyone take it from you. This island belongs to you.

You live here in contentment, oblivious to the chaos going on in the surface. This island will not fall, not whilst you continue to sustain it with the bodies of fools.

After falling from a great height, you have found a new place in life.


You walk up to the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of the people who came before you. Strangely enough, the footprints disappear into the water itself. After a moment’s hesitation, you wade into the lake a short distance, curious to find out what really happened here. The water is cool and fresh against your skin, as if keen to make you feel at ease.

To your surprise, you can hear the faint sound of beautiful singing coming from up ahead. You’ve never heard anything quite like it before. The words are difficult to make out, but you are captivated nevertheless by the atmosphere that it creates around you. Intrigued, you push further into the lake towards the source of the singing.

You can make out the words a little clearer now. The water comes up to your waist.

“Welcome, welcome, O traveller of the skies,

Drink from the water, and burn out your life;

Our singing shall ease all your worries and fears,

Come closer, young traveller, for all you hold dear…

The voices fade away, and you are immediately struck by the impact of the silence all around you. Desiring to break the silence, you wade deeper into the lake’s waters. You haven’t heard the voice of another soul on this isle for nearly a month. As much as you hate to admit it, the loneliness is starting to get to you. It would be cruel to deprive you of such company.

You push further into the lake, not caring that your clothes are now drenched. From afar, you can hear the singing voices again. The water level comes up to your chest.

“Rejoice, rejoice, O traveller of the skies,

No need for emotions, to laugh or to cry;

Sing with us here in the depths of the lake,

Naught but your soul and your spirit shall we take…

A strange feeling passes over you, and the singing cuts out. The water level comes up to your neck, turning into a murky green.

Despite yourself, you do not feel that you are in any real danger. A low hum echoes from all around you, almost seeming to resonate from the waters of the lake itself. You can no longer see the edge of the lake anymore. You swim forward impatiently, still searching for the source of the voices…

“What are you doing here?”

The face of a young woman emerges from the water in front of you. She appears to be vaguely human-like in appearance, but when she speaks, it sounds as if you are hearing her voice from underwater. Green hair flows down her back, and you see scales dotting her cheeks. An aquatic lifeform of some kind, perhaps. You didn’t know there were such people living in these waters.

“You’re not one of us,” she says, a surprised look on her face. “Why are you alive? How can you possibly survive here?”

Her questions baffle you. Before you can answer her, a second woman appears from the water, rising up to surface besides her companion.

“Look, sister,” she whispers, pointing towards you. “It’s not a male this time. The men usually drown themselves trying to hear the song, but she…” She smiles faintly at you, pulling back a lock of matted grey hair to one side. You see the hint of fangs protruding from inside her mouth. “We haven’t had a female come here before. Maybe she could join us. Our song has more effect with greater numbers…”

“Another sister?” the green-haired woman sounds dubious. “But we’ve never done that before. Is she…safe?”

“Maybe not, but we can easily change her.” The other woman looks at you curiously. “Traveller of the skies, we are the inhabitants of this isle. Everything you see before you is our property and ours alone. Those who visit our land are drawn into the dark waters and consumed by our sisters and children, giving us new life. We share the energy among us and channel it into the land itself, replenishing it. We do not die. We do not perish. Settlers sometimes come here and seek to drain the resources from the island, but no man cannot resist our song. We take from them what they seek to take from us.”

She holds out a slim hand towards you. “Would you like to join us, traveller? Another female would be a welcome addition to our circle. If you become one of our sisters, you too will enjoy the privileges afforded to us all. However, I will not force you. Should you refuse, we will do you no harm, but please think very carefully before you answer.”
> You refuse
“You refuse?” The woman looks greatly disappointed, and a sigh escapes her lips. “That's a shame. The greatest wonders await you beneath the surface of this lake. I will withdraw my offer.”

With that, she turns away from you and disappears into the water with a small splash. Her companion stares at you for a moment and also vanishes underwater with her. You wait there for a few minutes longer, but neither of the women re-emerge. It seems that they have gone for good.

Curious about her words, you try swimming underwater yourself to see if you can find them again. Unfortunately, you find that the waters here are too murky to see much at all, aside from a few schools of fish swimming near the surface of the lake. The singing has stopped, and only dead silence greets you. You swim around for a while longer, but nothing else happens.

Feeling as if you might have missed out on something, you decide that there is nothing else here for you and leave the waters of the lake behind you. You've now explored the entire island and have seen everything there is to offer. It may now be time for you to settle here and find your place in life.
> You proceed
Over the coming months, you begin to settle into daily life on this isolated island. There’s more than enough food and resources here to keep you set for life, and there’s more than enough to be getting on with. Having resigned yourself to the fact that you are going to be living alone, you start setting up some personal projects for yourself. You work on cutting down trees to build a basic shelter, although the natural climate here means that sleeping rough isn’t really a problem. Over time, you improve your skills and modify the shelter into a small cabin for all of your needs.

You never see anyone else land on this island, not even the Gahl’vuhr Sehn. For the most part, people leave you alone. It’s maybe a year before you see even one airship on the horizon, but it doesn’t come anywhere the island and soon disappears out of sight. It’s all right, really. You’ve started to get used to the constant loneliness, day in, day out. It doesn’t really bother you anymore. Besides, you still have a firm grip on reality – you’re not going to start going mad and go around talking to trees.

Sometimes you lie awake at night, wondering about all the chaos going on at the surface. It doesn’t matter anymore, because you’re so far removed from that now. You wonder about the fate of the captain aboard the airship, left drifting for eternity through open skies. You hope that she managed to find help, but it’s likely that she didn’t make it.

With no social contact, you seek the company of animals and begin taking in a few of them as pets. Not that you’re going to become a crazy cat lady or something, but it’s better than talking to yourself all the time. You start growing fruit and vegetables, using the resources of the island to your advantage. Over time, you see the potential of harvesting crops and raising animal as livestock, though you still have a long way to go.

The island never changes. Nobody is living here but you, so realistically the trees should be growing like crazy and the vegetation going out of control…and yet, this isn’t what you see happening. Everything seems to be stabilised in a very balanced order, leading you to suspect that some ulterior force may be at work. You’re not complaining, though. It saves you having to curb the area yourself.

In the end, you live here alone for the rest of your days, free from the chaos and violence which plagues the surface. You have your pets and animals for company, and there’s enough resources to keep you busy. You have to be careful, though, because it isn’t easy living alone. There are times when you feel ill and still have to do everything yourself. The animals grow used to your presence, until you almost feel as if you’re a part of their little family. They help out in their own little ways, bringing you food and sustenance when you become sick.

You’re alone, but you’re still happy and feel fortunate that this is how things have turned out. You take each day as it comes and ensure that you live in the moment.

After falling from a great height, this is the life you’ve chosen for yourself.


For the rest of the day, the damaged airship drifts upon the wind with no clear or definite destination. You face a lonely vigil here, one of the only survivors among numerous corpses. Whilst you’re here, you try to salvage whatever supplies you can, realising that you may be here for a long time if you are not fortunate enough to reach another island. There a few food packages in the captain’s room, and you are careful to consume only a small amount. These might be your only supplies for a long time…

The captain has not regained consciousness, at least not fully. She mumbles incoherently when you try to rouse her, but you know she is need of nutrition and medical attention. Unfortunately, there are no medical supplies in this part of the ship. Those were lost with Mother Ghared. Unable to wake her, you force some water through the captain’s cracked lips. She coughs and splutters but manages to get it down.

As you continue to drift, you see numerous other airships passing by. However…they give you no cause to celebrate. They, too, are drifting. The crew members on board are all dead, as you discover upon your first encounter; some have been attacked by mutants or aggressive races as happened with you, but in fact you find that the majority of them have been the victim of violent storms or run out of food and supplies completely. In more than a few cases, you find that there is a literal skeleton crew on board, as evidence by the remaining bones that greet you.

The world is falling apart around you, and you can do nothing to stop it. You are the only one out here who remains alive. The chaos on the surface must be affecting the skies, too, since many of the doomed ships here have been drifting for some time. How long has it been since your island fell? How long has the world been like this?

Hours pass, and you begin to feel that you will not survive. Your supplies will not last forever.

It is almost nightfall when you are confronted by a single ray of hope. At first, you think that your eyes are playing tricks on you. An island can be seen passing close to the airship.

An island. It seems like a miracle. There could be people there, people who could help you and give the captain the medical attention she so desperately needs. However, the airship isn’t headed directly for it – you will have to literally jump down onto the island, making use of the few tools still available to you.

As you draw closer, you realise that you do not recognise this island at all. You don’t know if the inhabitants there will be friendly or hostile to you: there might not even be any people living there at all. It could be filled with wild animals. If you choose to disembark, you will not be able to return to the ship, which will drift away and leave you stranded upon this isle.

Furthermore, the angle at which you are approaching the island makes it impossible for you take anyone with you. You can jump down onto the surface yourself with some difficulty. This will mean that you will have to leave the wounded captain behind, ultimately sealing her fate.
> You stay with the drifting ship
You decide not to risk it. The captain’s life is already compromised, and you still have some supplies left to make it to the next possible island. Granted, the captain may have been a little rude and abrasive to you when you first met her, but she did allow you to stay on board. You can’t help but feel a little responsible for what happened to her.

The island appears before you, but you choose not to disembark. Before long, it has disappeared from view.
> You proceed
Over the next few days, the airship you’re on continues to drift at the mercy of the wind. You see no other inhabitable islands within range, and have no way of turning the ship around towards the islands you do see. Progress is painfully slow, and you feel sure that you will die here. Your supplies have dwindled down to almost nothing.

The captain’s condition worsens near the end of the week. You manage to get her conscious enough to eat what little food and water you have left, but she barely eats anything at all. You don’t have much hope for her survival, and every day she seems weaker than ever. A realistic approach would be to leave her to die and save what precious provisions remain, but you can’t see what good that will do. This ship isn’t going anywhere, after all.

It’s difficult to sleep at night on the hard wooden deck. The stink of the corpses is too much to bear, and you spend hours dragging them off the ship and shoving him over the side. You thought that removing the extra weight would help the ship move faster, but it doesn’t. Nothing works. Nothing you do seems to help anymore.

You run out of food in the middle of the second week.

There’s still water. Water can keep someone going a lot longer than food deprivation will. It hasn’t rained for so long. No storms. No rainfall. You almost wish for a storm to hit the ship, something to break the monotony, but right now this isn’t a ship anymore. This is just half a ship, and you’re just half of the skeleton crew.

Just mere skeletons now.

You’re getting weak from lack of food. The gnawing pain in your stomach won’t go away, and you don’t want to waste what little water is left. You think about denying the captain water altogether. Someone has to survive.

When the next week begins, you awaken to see a strange red mist rise up ahead, out of the gloom. You’ve never seen such a thing before, and something about it frightens you. You feel that the airship has entered a part of the sky that nobody should enter, like a forbidden area. You don’t want anything to do with this mist, just want to lie on your bed and clamp your hands over your ears and block everything out.

You’re so hungry. You’re so hungry and tired, tired and hungry, sick and tired, tired and sick…Does it really matter anymore? Does anything matter?
> You hide in the captain's room until the mist passes
You stay huddled in the captain’s room, keeping the door tightly shut. You don’t know why, but something about that mist makes your flesh crawl. As you lock the door, however, you suddenly remember that you left the unconscious captain outside on the deck, right before the red mist was about to descend. She’ll be vulnerable to whatever effects it has. You hesitate to run back out there and get her.

Just then, you start to hear strange noises from outside. It sounds like some kind of wailing, quiet yet piercing, and it's enough to drive you into a corner with your hands clamped firmly over your ears. You start to imagine that some strange force is going to board the ship and break the door down before bearing down on you. Muttering incoherently to yourself, you crouch by the wall and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that the mist will pass on.

The air feels thicker than usual. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. You feel something change in the surrounding atmosphere, something so subtle that you wouldn’t even notice it otherwise. As it is, you’re so busy locked in your own irrational fear with your hands over your ears that you can’t help but notice it.

Slowly, very slowly, you feel everything start to go back to normal.

It’s nearly half an hour before your fear subsides enough for you to emerge back on deck. You’re shaking as you crawl out of the cabin, shaking with a mixture of extreme hunger and trepidation. The red mist is gone. The captain’s body is lying undisturbed on the upper deck. Nothing bad seems to have happened. You start to relax, realising your mind must have been playing tricks on you. Time can do that to you. Lack of food, lack of sleep, lack of all those little things you need in life until you find yourself getting delusional and seeing things that aren’t there –

You walk over to the captain’s body. Her skin is cold and her mouth is open slightly. She is dead.

There is no way to tell if she finally succumbed to her injuries over the past few weeks, or if the strange red mist had something to do with it. You stumble back from her corpse in confusion and terror, searching for somewhere to escape to. There’s nowhere else but here. The red mist disappeared as quickly as it came…

That’s not all, either. Something else has changed, something that you didn’t count on. It’s not something to do with you, or the captain, or your lack of supplies, yet at the same time it’s one of the most important things you’ve been relying on up to this moment in time.

The wind has stopped.

Desperately, you run over to the side of the airship and look down. Nothing. Nothing but an empty void stretching down to the surface of the planet. No wind. No wind to blow you forward. The airship is no longer drifting – it’s stationary. Static. Your vessel is at a standstill, here at the edge of an endless sky with no hope of salvation.

You stare out through endless skies, already weakened by lack of nutrients, before sinking to the ground. Your fate has been sealed. The airship is stranded in an uncharted region of open sky where the wind no longer blows, with no way to move forward on here. Without further resources, your situation is now beyond help. The days will turn into weeks, and the weeks will turn into months, but you have no future from here. You are never seen again.


Over the next few days, the airship you’re on continues to drift at the mercy of the wind. You see no other inhabitable islands within range, and have no way of turning the ship around towards the islands you do see. Progress is painfully slow, and you feel sure that you will die here. Your supplies have dwindled down to almost nothing.

The captain’s condition worsens near the end of the week. You manage to get her conscious enough to eat what little food and water you have left, but she barely eats anything at all. You don’t have much hope for her survival, and every day she seems weaker than ever. A realistic approach would be to leave her to die and save what precious provisions remain, but you can’t see what good that will do. This ship isn’t going anywhere, after all.

It’s difficult to sleep at night on the hard wooden deck. The stink of the corpses is too much to bear, and you spend hours dragging them off the ship and shoving him over the side. You thought that removing the extra weight would help the ship move faster, but it doesn’t. Nothing works. Nothing you do seems to help anymore.

You run out of food in the middle of the second week.

There’s still water. Water can keep someone going a lot longer than food deprivation will. It hasn’t rained for so long. No storms. No rainfall. You almost wish for a storm to hit the ship, something to break the monotony, but right now this isn’t a ship anymore. This is just half a ship, and you’re just half of the skeleton crew.

Just mere skeletons now.

You’re getting weak from lack of food. The gnawing pain in your stomach won’t go away, and you don’t want to waste what little water is left. You think about denying the captain water altogether. Someone has to survive.

When the next week begins, you awaken to see a strange red mist rise up ahead, out of the gloom. You’ve never seen such a thing before, and something about it frightens you. You feel that the airship has entered a part of the sky that nobody should enter, like a forbidden area. You don’t want anything to do with this mist, just want to lie on your bed and clamp your hands over your ears and block everything out.

You’re so hungry. You’re so hungry and tired, tired and hungry, sick and tired, tired and sick…Does it really matter anymore? Does anything matter?
> You stay up on deck to see what happens
You stay on deck as the red mist descends upon the airship. Something doesn’t feel right about this, but you’re too tired and hungry to care. The unconscious captain is lying nearby, just as vulnerable to the mist as you are. For a moment you consider taking her inside her room to give her some better protection from whatever effects the mist might have, but it’s too late for that now. You brace yourself, ready to act if anything untoward happens.

Slowly, you feel a strange feeling come over you. The pains of your body begin to recede, here within the red mist. What’s going on? The gnawing hunger in your belly is beginning to disappear, along with your fatigue. There is a movement next to you, and you turn to see the captain open her eyes and slowly get to her feet. Could it be that the effects of the red mist are actually beneficial?

Even if it’s nothing but an illusion, you are grateful for the relief from the constant pain that has plagued you for the past week or so. Your body feels light now, lighter than air, and you feel almost as if you are floating. The captain turns to stare at you, and you realise that both of you are moving upwards. You don’t know what’s going on, but this doesn’t seem too bad. Perhaps you could rise up to a greater height and find an island, where help may be found –

You chance looking down and see a sight which fills you with horror.

Two dead bodies lie on the deck of the airship, directly below you. They belong to you and the captain.

You turn to call out to the captain, thinking to warn her about what’s happening, but no sound escapes your lips. Your face and body is changing, splitting apart, slowly disintegrating…into just another part of the red mist. The same thing is happening to the captain. She opens her mouth in a silent scream just seconds before she, too, is absorbed.

The red mist marks an uncharted region of the sky, beyond which no wind blows at all. It has one primary, deadly purpose: to leech away the life-force of the poor souls who drift this far away from the sky islands, far away from any hope of civilisation. Your life-force has now been converted into new energy to facilitate the mist, and you exist no longer.

You are just part of the red mist now, drifting eternally across this patch of sky to prey upon any survivors of doomed airships which come here. You perish here within uncharted territory, yet live on as part of a mass entity, claiming the lives of others who have already given up hope.