The ship felt unsteady beneath my feet — I am not used to such technology. It feels unnatural for a machine this large to soar through the sky alongside the winged creatures of this world. These people are strange to me, and I do not yet know how I can be useful here.

The Navigators are skilled, yet blind to the elements and Gaia’s ways. The stars whisper of peril and ruin, though I cannot see more clearly than that.

The storm struck without warning. Wind and snow tore across the deck, threatening to sweep us all into the abyss below. I called on Gaia and cast roots across the boards, holding myself fast and giving others a chance to cling to the deck. The crew tied themselves down with rope, their knuckles white as they held on for dear life. Some looked at me with fear, others with relief, but all of them clung tighter when the roots spread. I could do nothing more but endure and trust the storm to pass.

I wonder if they see me now as ally, or as something to be feared.

The ship is gone. It split in two and came crashing down, killing nearly everyone aboard. Only nine of us remain — the five companions I now travel with, and four from the crew. The wreck is scattered across the land below, broken wood and broken bodies.

We searched the ruin for anything that could be carried. Food, water, scraps of gear — little enough for so many. When night fell, we made camp. I took first watch, with my owl circling high above to keep silent vigil. The others slept, though their dreams must have been heavy.

We survived the fall, but I cannot tell if it was fortune, fate, or Gaia’s will.