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Sam approached me today, once again asking questions about the Graylands—questions I had already answered long ago. His inquiries were the same tired ones, the kind made by someone searching for reassurance rather than knowledge. Yet, there was something different about Sam this time—something unsettling in his demeanor. His usual jovialness seemed diminished, replaced by a palpable sense of unease that he could no longer hide. It was fear, plain and simple, bubbling to the surface, despite his earlier attempts to mask it.

I suspect Sam had been putting on a brave face, trying to conceal his growing anxiety about the expedition. But now, standing at the very edge of the Graylands—where the tension was at a high—his unease had become undeniable.

I can’t say I blame him. The Graylands is not a normal place, and as much as I try to keep a rational mind about this task, I even feel the unease that this land instills. Sam, however, seems more vulnerable to it. He’s been hiding his fear behind hollow questions and nervous laughter, but now that we’re on the brink of crossing into the unknown, it’s clear that the facade is beginning to crumble.

I offered him what reassurance I could, though I knew that words alone would not calm his nerves. The Graylands test everyone differently, and Sam will have to confront his fears soon enough. Whether he can face them or not remains to be seen, but fear is a dangerous companion in a place like this.

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Still, I have faith in Sam. A man hailing from good stock will often reveal the nobility of his bloodline under pressure, and I trust that when the time comes, Sam will rise to the occasion. What concerns me more is Tom. The Graylands have a way of unraveling even the sturdiest minds, and I cannot imagine that the strange, shifting nature of this place will have a positive effect on that fool’s already questionable mental capabilities.

I pulled Sam aside and asked him to keep a close watch on Tom during the expedition. I suggested, in no uncertain terms, that it might be wiser to leave Tom behind with the team staying outside the Graylands, where his ineptitude could do less harm. But Sam, ever loyal, pushed back. I could see it in his eyes—he was defending his friend, refusing to entertain the idea that Tom might be a liability to us all.

I wish Sam would see reason. His loyalty, though admirable, is misplaced in this instance. Tom’s presence could become a burden we may not be able to afford once we cross the threshold into the Graylands. The pressure of navigating such a perilous and alien environment requires clear heads and calm resolve, neither of which I can count on from Tom.

Yet Sam would not listen, his stubbornness matching my own. I can only hope that his loyalty to Tom does not cloud his judgment in more critical moments. For now, I must trust in Sam’s ability to keep Tom in check, but a deep sense of unease lingers. If we are not careful, Tom’s weakness may become a crack in our expedition—one that could widen into a chasm of regret. I fear we may regret the decision not to leave him behind.