-4th Rest-

As the caravan continued its slow, deliberate crawl through the rolling hills of muted gray, I noticed that everyone in the group was scanning the desolate landscape with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Their eyes darted from one stretch of the bleak, colorless grass to another, searching for the elusive prize that had brought us to this forsaken land—the gray flowers.

Somewhere, hidden among the uniform monotony of this strange place, these mysterious blooms were said to grow. Their reputation as a rare and powerful alchemical ingredient for life extension was what lured us here, yet we were having no luck.

Some of the men had resorted to scanning the bleak horizon through binoculars, their eyes fixed on the endless waves of gray grass in the hope of spotting even the faintest hint of a gray flower. I could sense their growing unease, a quiet desperation tightening its grip on the group.

I understood their urgency all too well. The Graylands had a way of unsettling even the strongest of us. My own resolve had been shaken after the vivid, monochrome dream I experienced during our last rest. The lingering memory of it clung to my thoughts, casting a shadow over my every step. Like them, I wanted nothing more than to find the flowers and be done with this place. The moment we discovered even a single bloom, we could make our retreat, following along the silter cable we dragged behind us and out of this place.

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Sam and I came to a decision earlier today—our next rest would be our last before we begin the journey back out of the Graylands. It was difficult to say exactly how long we had been in this colorless place. Time, like everything else here, seemed to lose its meaning. But, judging by the number of rests we had taken, we could safely assume it had been close to five days. Soon, the crew waiting beyond the Graylands would start the slow process of reeling the silter cable back, whether we had found what we came for or not.

The knowledge that time was running out sharpened everyone’s resolve, especially since failure meant that we'd have to plunge back into this forsaken land once we regrouped. The thought weighed heavily on us all, and I could see it in the faces of the men. They redoubled their efforts, tirelessly scanning the landscape for any sign of the elusive gray flower. Every hill and every patch of grass was scrutinized with heightened desperation as if the flower might be hiding just beyond the next ridge.

For all our sakes, I pray someone finds it soon. I’ve had my fill of this place—its unnatural stillness, its eerie monochrome, and the strange dreams that linger like a fog in the corners of my mind. Once we escape the Graylands, I hope it will be for the last time. Whatever scholarly curiosity first brought me here had long been satisfied. Now, the only desire that remained was to leave and never return.