Telemachus woke up early, as he did every day, feeling miserable. It was the first of January of 1299 in the Rovarian calendar, but he thought they should come up with a new one, since they were on uncharted territory, completely cut off from their home. It had been a year since their arrival. His house was a small one-room log cabin on the verge of the settlement. It was raining.

He got up and had a glass of water while he looked at the rain pouring over the large leaves of a tree right outside. There wasn’t much else he could see, since the Forest was so close and dense.

”I guess it’s another day locked in, Barney.”

Barney, his pet mouse, looked up from his little cage. He was having fun hanging from the bars. The little guy made Telemachus feel a little better. He always seemed to find a way to enjoy his day.

They had so little and were so few. As he woke up every day, Telemachus listened to the birds he didn’t know the names of, then thought about the seasons, if they’d remain the same like the year that passed, and took a few deep breaths trying to forget about what was left behind.

He remembered them when he went to sleep. He'd lie down in the dark and couldn’t help but listen to their voices, or watch random memories running in his mind. Every night, and every day, took conscious effort to forget and move on. They journey to Aurora Myst wasn't the worst part. It was horrible and terrifying, and all the other ships were lost, but he was hoping, no so secretly, to be lost at sea too.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The ship left the port city of Moonside on a ill-looking Sunday morning. I had never been aboard a Class G steam cruiser before. They were exclusively used by the military, but, by that time, things were looking bad enough for them to carry civilians on board. Their missions had all been a failure, sowhen they had no choice, finally decided to listen to the scholars, and that included Telemachus.

He had been looking at the old charts, the dusty tomes, the legends, the novels, the epic forgotten poems, looking for solace, grieving for his losses, like everyone. The Ancient War. The Plague. Losing someone was routine. Each one had their way of processing the trauma, of course. His way was to be locked in the university library for as long as he could.

He didn't mean to find an answer, but he did, so he compared the maps and told them that if they wanted to find new lands, they had to take new paths, and shouldn't be afraid of the seas as long as the steam tech and the Magi stones worked together and they reinforced the ships for longer voyages. It had never been done before. But then again, they were running out of time.

He thought about those things that day, and got ready for a rainy day writing, organising the files or just reading, when someone knocked on the door.

He opened the door and found Silas, a young man who just turned eighteen the week before. He worked with the Manager on the central office.

“Dr. Telemachus, sir, “ he said, barely cointaining his anxiety. “It’s Ms. Rose. She and her company returned, and they found something.”