An orange sun. The children ask about the less fortunate.

Slithering things rise. We huddle for safety. Moss-riddled cliffs tower over us.

The sunlight is gone. The moons glow. Pink. White. Orange.

Something cries below. The raft is tossed about by the waves.

For some time we drift through reef of petrified coral.

The winds rise and the vessel speeds along. The vessel sails onward. An elder awakes from a vision, but refuses to speak of it.

The moon wanes. A warm soup of crabs.

Perhaps there are edible jellies in these waters.

A quick contraption hovers briefly overhead.

Storm clouds some way off.

Memories of imperial ships.

The sea.

The water. The children listen as the elders recount a time before the flood.

Shoals of tiny little eels. The raft perseveres. Desolate cliffs. Rocks tumble and splash.

Gentle raindrops. Sienna ridges loom.

Restless dreamers.

The sea here teems with shrimp. The boat is still. A song and an offering; fruits for the water.

We hope for white roots. Brooding bluffs dotted with cursed pearls.

It rains gently. Angular ruins tower over us.

Black clouds burst above, and the cruel sea denies us its crustaceans.

Night falls.

A warm wind from the south. The smell of a cooking crustaceans brings back memories of winged companions.

A colossal ship decorated with sickly lichen and trailing vines surfaces briefly. The soldiers raise their rifles as we pass.

A makeshift vessel covered with tiny skulls transporting small strangers with bright silver armor. A peculiar vessel.

Our raft sails onward. A song and an offering; honeycombs for the blue.

A worn machine covered in jangling chains appears briefly in the distance.

Lightning illuminates the night sky. We will not sleep tonight. Moss-riddled cliffs loom over our raft.

Raindrops patter down on the boat. The raft requires repairs. The older children teach the young ones to count using nails.

Cold wind from the north. In hushed voices, we speak of a broken continent.

Storm clouds some way off. Glacial bluffs dotted with cursed jewels.

Midnight. Lights below. Spirits of the deep.

Dimly glowing seasnakes light the deep. The rickety boat pushes on.

How long have we been adrift?

Dark spirits shake the craft. The clouds have us now.

Purple skies. The raft perseveres. A song and an offering; fresh nuts for the ocean.

Lighting arcs across the heavens, and the angry sea denies us its jellies.

Night falls. Flecks of silver.

A stranger on a stealthy boat. They offer us a single tiny icy crystal in exchange for all of our eels.

A tiny, lush island. Children gather grubs.

We make repairs using chitinous plates and nails.

Waves crash against a shimmering wall and we lose some barrels overboard.

Lonely structures carved with faces of sailors.

Our rickety vessel pushes on.

We take stock of our supplies; only a few slippery prawns left now.

Pale skies. The raft continues. The children play-fight with imagined clockwork scimitars.

A ship with imperial markings, some way off. The soldiers raise their rifles as we pass.

The bountiful ocean.

Our pontoon groans.

The winds rise and the raft speeds along.

Waves crash against a shimmering wall, and the boat is tossed about.