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As you take in your surroundings, you’re overcome with both a sense of awe and… disappointment? Confusion? Curiosity? You’re unsure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The dramatic coastline is made of rocky cliffs and narrow, dark-sanded beaches. You notice the sparse vegetation, hardy shrubs clinging to the mountainous terrain, and the occasional splash of color from wildflowers that brave the elements. Just beyond the horizon, forests in deep green—almost black in their density—linger past the beige grasslands that stretch on seemingly forever in all directions. Looming above the trees, snow-capped peaks rise majestically, scraping the brilliant blue sky.

You can taste the tang of the salt in the air as the brisk wind bites at your exposed skin. It’s much cooler here, colder than the humid climates to which you’re accustomed. Already, you find yourself shivering, and you start to question if this is the paradise promised to you by Xiatli and the great explorers. Perhaps you wanted to see something lush, something vibrant. These lands, they’re vibrant and magical in their own way—but certainly nothing like the regions of Legido.

The steady, constant roar of the sea crashing into the rocks brings you back to the moment your ship cautiously approached the shore the day before. You remember standing at the bow of the ship, eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the endless expanse of water. The lookout kept repeatedly exclaiming, “Land ho!”, but at first, you thought they were mistaken, seeing nothing but the vast sea.

And then, there it was: breaking the monotonous horizon, a jagged coastline emerged. The land appeared rugged, untamed, and the beaches looked dark and narrow. But it was the first land you had seen since departing Auruma Xosta, so nothing was going to interfere with your excitement. You felt triumphant, ecstatic, like the long wait and all that you endured was finally worth it.

The crew was elated, as well. Captain Lema shouted, “Prepare for landfall!” But the command could have gone unsaid, as the deck was buzzing with activity before the words left his mouth. Everyone sprung into action: Sails were furled, anchors were dropped, and ropes were secured. You could feel the ship lurching as it slowed, giving you a brief scare until you watched everyone else moving about as if nothing terrifying occurred.

Having never witnessed a ship making landfall before, you looked on curiously, wondering if and how you could jump in to help. The crew anchored the ship a fair distance from shore, then loaded up the smaller longboats with a number of supplies. Captain Lema assigned a few crew members to comprise a small scouting party to send ashore. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved not to be one of the few chosen.

Everyone watched with bated breath as the scouts made their way ashore. People begun making morbid wagers on whether the scouts would return, or what they’d find should they reappear. Though you could’ve used the distraction, you didn’t partake in the ‘festivities’. The waiting was excruciating, but you reasoned that it would be even more agonizing to have traveled all this way and found the land inhospitable.

Once the scouts returned with the good news, mentioning the fresh water river that flowed just beyond the hills, the main landing began. Many were eager to get to the shore, wanting off the ship right away. There was a lot of pushing and shoving as people jockeyed for position. Along with Gartzen, the first mate, and a few other trusted crew members, Captain Lema managed to keep everyone in line, organizing the landing party swiftly and without any deliberation. This time, you were extremely disappointed not to be selected, feeling your heart sink as the others began to board the boats.

You felt a tug at your sleeve and saw Lander—err, you mean Landera—directing you with exaggerated movements of her eyes and pointing with her head. The two of you crouched low and snuck between the legs of the other crew members and travelers milling about. Before anyone noticed, you both quickly slipped onto the boat and took your places, masking your elation as you tried your best to nonchalantly assist the others with loading the vessel with supplies.

The longboat cast off, and you and Landera exchanged a look and sigh of relief, grinning mischievously at your audacity. Those aboard were none the wiser. You did it! You managed to be stowaways!

The rowers steered the vessel around the cape at the direction of the scouts, who pointed them up a wide river and toward a landing further inland. Getting closer to land, you could smell the distant pine trees mingling with the damp terrain from a recent rain. You were curious about what they found, but you were impressed at how quickly they were able to find this far destination. You figured it was your excitement and anticipation that wanted to hurry the boat along and reach what they called “the beachhead”.

Your anticipation immediately turned into regret after you landed. You struggled to pull the longboat ashore along the uneven ground of the pebble beach. As if that didn’t exhaust you enough, you helped unload the longboats of their goods, and discovered that “establishing the beachhead” meant a ton of strenuous labor. Tents were set up, supplies got secured, and many of the crew went off to create a perimeter for defending your location. You never realized how much exhausting work went into constructing such a site.

The next day—earlier this morning—Captain Lema organized scouting parties to explore the area around you all. With fresh water located, it was time to seek out sources for food and resources to make a permanent camp inland, a bit further from the danger of the coast. You watched as Gartzen trudged off with a crew of young, overly eager boys no older than Landera, following him around and speaking to him at blistering speeds. Had you been like that when you first arrived onboard the ship? You cringe at the likelihood of that possibility.

All morning, you’ve stayed back with Landera, the two of you continuing to help secure the goods up to this point. You figured life on the farm would give you the ability to handle such labor-intensive work, but you find yourself exhausted from exerting yourself. It’s when you see Dorez and Benicto returning with a team sent to survey the land that you feel a twinge of jealousy. Their smug expressions don’t appear to be directed at anybody, yet you can’t help but believe yourself to be their target.

But when you see them empty-handed, and their confident strides faltering, you can’t help but feel a wave of relief and a touch of vindication. There’s a satisfaction in knowing they found nothing more than mapped terrain. You exchange a knowing glance with Landera, feeling a quiet triumph in your small, unnoticed victory.

The rest of the day is relatively uneventful. You, Landera, and the rest of the colony are hard at work, continuing to create what would be everyone’s home while you’re in this foreign place. The labor has been intensive, but you feel yourself putting your mark on the settlement, something that ties you here and swells yourself with pride as you see the steady progress.

The name for the colony that goes around is “Aitzabal”. To pass the time, workers dream up names for what the settlement should be called. This will ultimately be Captain Lema’s decision, of course, but it doesn’t hurt to dream. There are a few who think he’ll name this place “Lemador,” aggrandizing his name into that of the settlement. Many dismiss this idea, not viewing the captain as that egotistical, that narcissistic. Besides, “Aitzabal” brings together the words for “rock” and “shelter”. When you glance around the terrain, admiring the rocky shores and the tall mountains that stand sentinel, as if they’re watching over you to make sure you’re safe and secure, the name feels perfect.

Storm clouds hover over the horizon as night starts to overtake the day. You all fear the torrential rains and high winds that will likely sweep the area and potentially wreck the shelters you’ve constructed. Shouts erupt throughout the camp, instructing everyone to tie down and secure their homes, and secure the crates of goods so that they won’t blow away or get swept out by the deluge of water. People scurry about, putting up barriers to help curb the tempest and do the best you all can to weather the storm.

When the storm comes, it moves at a glacier’s pace—so very different than the intense weather you experience in Legido. The rain is steady, certainly, but you all are not overwhelmed by any extreme gusts or flash floods. To your surprise, many step out from their homes and actually start dancing in it! You never would have imagined people celebrating the rains! It’s a relief, and you start to believe Xiatli’s claims that this is, in fact, paradise. Though the clouds still linger, you determine that, perhaps, your time here won’t be so bad after all.

The following morning, Captain Lema gathers everyone to address you all directly. His face is stern, looking only at the ground as he paces with his hands folded behind his back. The nights are freezing here, and the days are not much better. So everyone is shivering as they stand around, and you try to huddle with the others in an effort to keep warm while awaiting the captain’s announcement. Some declare they’ve begun making tea, but you don’t detect the herbal aroma of the beverage anywhere. You quickly realize they’re trying to make light of the fact that there’s not enough tea to go around—the tea inventory has been reserved to only be consumed by expedition leadership. Thus, it’s pure, heated water for the rest of you.

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“Everybody,” the captain says without any fanfare or introduction, “I understand we have just arrived to the new world. However, we must be prepared to rejoin the other crews. We are not certain where they have landed, so we will need to send teams of scouts to search for them. In discussions with my navigators, it is estimated that they are north of here, given the direction we found ourselves sailing after getting knocked off course.”

You feel the stare of others burning into you, likely cursing or muttering obscenities under their collective breaths. You try your best to keep your gaze upon the captain, not wanting to meet the eyes of any of those who judge you or wish you ill, though you can sense the hateful stares from the periphery of your vision. Worst of all, you can’t help but glance—just a quick glance off to the side—and find Benicto scowling at you. Dorez tries to get him to knock it off, but he persists in glaring at you.

“Before we set off to find them,” the captain continues, “we should ensure we are placed in the best position possible to survive and succeed while we await word on their location. Let us continue our efforts to establish ourselves here, and once we’ve achieved a firm settlement, we will seek the others at once.”

A few protests spring up, questioning the strategy of delaying our search for the other crews. Others remark how little our rations are, and a few of those sent on scouting missions note the scare resources like trees for wood and the expansive plains that are silent from the lack of game to hunt. However, the concept of the captain’s plan makes sense to you, in a way. Establishing a central location for all to gather, and ensuring everyone is able to sustain themselves with adequate food and water, seems like the correct course to take. After all, if the other crews are out looking for you all, you don’t want them to only find bones and corpses, as morbid as that sounds.

He then organizes the crew into teams and delegates tasks, as it seems he’s set to do each morning. After several are designated to working on constructing the settlement or sewing warmer garments, you start to get a tiny inkling of hope that something might be different about today. He points to a few men and women, including Landera, then searches the group, eyes narrowed as he concentrates.

“You,” the captain eventually points at you, “are with Gartzen’s scouting party. Find fresh water and food. We need to establish a camp and secure this area.”

This is it! This is your moment! Your heart could take flight, you’re overjoyed. The task of scouting will most certainly be just as exhausting as securing goods and constructing homes, but the change of fortunes is most welcomed. Anything to break up the monotony of your daily tasks. Just the possibility of seeing something new, something different, fills you with indescribable excitement.

You stride toward Gartzen, nodding merrily at Landera. Except you notice a grave look on her face. Has something happened to her? Has someone outed her identity? You’re about to ask her what’s wrong when… you see it.

“Well, well, well,” Benicto’s smug voice pierces your ears, pierces your soul. “It’s oilaskoa, come to join the adults for a little day trip.”

“Benicto,” Dorez’s voice is sharp, cold, “I have warned you, we are not doing this to them anymore. I am healed, I have been saved, all thanks to the one you taunt as oilaskoa, and no thanks to you.”

Benicto appears incensed at Dorez’s remark. “You wouldn’t have gotten the injury if that oilaskoa hadn’t sent us directly into that storm! Or did you bump your head in addition to your injuries that day? You are being foolish if you’re lifting up this peasant and praising them as a saint.”

Dorez rolls her eyes. “Come,” she directs you, her face lacking any expression. “Let us meet up with Gartzen and seek out food and materials for the settlement.”

“And try not to get lost,” Benicto snarks. “It would be a real shame if you happened to go missing.” He gives you a hard shove with his shoulder, forcing you onto your back feet for a moment as you briefly stumble.

Landera is there to help steady you, making sure you don’t fall backward. “Ignore him. Some people will forever be ungrateful. And people like Benicto, they’re born in the port and believe they’ve sailed the ocean. It’s best to not let people like that get under your skin.”

The gruff Gartzen speaks mostly in grunts, giving directions strictly by pointing, as though you’re expected to understand his thoughts. A number of those in the group exchange confused looks, which angers Gartzen until he only glares at everyone. You recall that he pointed toward the mountains… but maybe he wasn’t pointing at the mountains so much as he was pointing in the direction of the river that flows from the snowy peaks.

“I think,” your voice squeaks as you muster up the confidence to translate Gartzen’s instructions, “he wants a party to search the river, to…” Now you’re uncertain why he would want to explore an area the settlers already know presents fresh drinking water.

Landera completes your thought. “To look for any wildlife that may be nearby. We can hunt the game for food and use their pelts.”

This gives you an idea. “Also,” you say, with more poise now, “the wildlife may be consuming edible plants. Watch for them and seek out anything we can forage.” A few shared glances turn into subtle nods that ripple through the group as they catch on to the instructions.

You stand on the edge of a rocky outcrop, gazing out at the vast expanse before you. The land is a patchwork of greens and browns, dense forests giving way to open meadows, with jagged peaks rising in the distance. The air is crisp, and the scent of pine mingles with the faint brine of the sea.

The dark and heavy clouds linger ominously above, like a shroud waiting to descend. Your senses are on high alert, observing how the stillness of the air contrasts with the turmoil brewing overhead. Captain Lema’s words echo in your mind, urging caution and vigilance. But there’s a deceptive tranquility to the environment that lulls you into a false sense of security.

Landera and Gartzen lead the way, their forms small against the sprawling landscape. You trail behind, keeping an eye on Dorez and Benicto, who bring up the rear. Despite her initial hostility, Dorez has softened somewhat since you tended to her wound. Benicto, on the other hand, remains an enigma, with intentions as murky as the gathering storm clouds.

You press on. The terrain becomes increasingly rugged, covered in a layer of loose gravel and fallen leaves. Every step requires careful concentration as you traverse the uneven ground. The wind picks up, carrying with it a chill that causes your teeth to involuntarily chatter.

Suddenly, a low rumble reverberates through the air. You glance up, watching as the clouds shift and churn, darkening with each passing moment. The first raindrops begin to fall. The gentle patter quickly intensifies into a relentless downpour. The wind howls, whipping through the trees and sending branches crashing to the ground.

“Take cover!” Landera’s voice cuts through the chaos, but the words are barely audible over the roar of the storm. You scramble for shelter, your movements frantic and uncoordinated. The rain stings your skin, and the wind threatens to knock you off your feet.

Visibility drops to near zero as the storm unleashes its fury. You lose sight of Landera and Gartzen, as their figures get swallowed by the curtain of rain. Panic sets in, your heart pounding to escape your chest. You shout their names, but the wind snatches the words from your lips, scattering them into the void.

Desperation drives you forward. Your steps falter as you traverse the treacherous terrain. You stumble, your foot catching on a root. You fall hard, the impact jarring through your body. Pain flares in your ankle, but you force yourself to stand. There’s no time to lose. You must find your companions.

The storm is unrelenting. The rain falls in sheets, and the wind howls like a wild beast. Your clothes cling to your body, drenched and heavy. Your breath comes in ragged gasps while the cold air burns your lungs. You shield your face with your arm, peering through the rain in search of any sign of Landera or Gartzen. But all you see is the relentless downpour and the swaying silhouettes of trees.

The ground becomes a quagmire, with each step becoming an arduous struggle. Your willpower pushes you on. The roar of the storm is deafening, drowning out all other sounds.

You slip again, falling to your knees in the mud. For a moment, you consider staying down, letting the storm wash over you. But the thought of your companions drives you to rise once more. You have to find them, to make sure they’re safe.

You find a large, overhanging rock that offers some semblance of shelter. You collapse under its meager protection, as the relentless rain still finds ways to seep through. The wind continues its assault, shrieking around the rock. Time loses meaning in the relentless fury of the storm. Minutes stretch into hours, which stretches into eternity.

The rain eventually begins to let up, though its mercy is minimal. You catch your breath, and the reality of your situation sinks in. Anxiety from the uncertainty of what lies ahead gnaws at you. The storm shows no sign of abating, and your companions are nowhere to be seen.

You close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. The harshness of this new land is overwhelming, and you now wish for the relative safety and security of the campsite. You think of Landera and Gartzen, wondering if they have found shelter or if they are out there, battling the storm as you are.

You struggle to your feet and cling to the nearby rock, your body aching from the cold and the strain. Your eyes sweep the area, and your heart sinks as you realize you are alone. The quiet is oppressive, and the absence of your companions—of anyone from your scouting party—makes the alarming silence a gut-wrenching reminder.

“Lander! Gartzen!” you call out, your voice hoarse. There’s no response, only the faint echo of your own voice. You clench your fists in both frustration and fear.

You look around, hoping to see a familiar face, a sign of Landera or Gartzen’s presence. But the landscape is empty. The storm has swept away any trace of them, of anyone.

When the storm finally begins to subside, you feel a fleeting sense of relief. The rain lessens, the wind dies down, and the world starts to come back into focus. Now’s your chance, you determine. You cautiously emerge from your makeshift shelter, your body stiff and sore. But you refuse to give up.

You begin to search the immediate area, your eyes searching for any sign of movement. The mud threatens to pull you down with each step. But you need to find your comrades.

You hear a faint noise, a murmur of voices carried on the wind. Hope surges within you as you move towards the sound, your heart pounding in your chest. You emerge from the trees, running, stumbling toward them. Could this be? Have you reunited with the scouting party?

You fight through the low-hanging branches claw at your face, nicking and scratching any exposed skin. Mud and damp water fills your beaten shoes, soaking your soggy socks. You’re too excited to care, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Then you hear a familiar voice, dripping with disdain, and your heart sinks immediately.

“The only other person we can find is oilaskoa? We’re doomed," Benicto says to Dorez. She’s helping Benicto to his feet, both of them looking worse for wear. His words are a dagger to your already bruised spirit. And though silent, the look she gives you tells you that Dorez appears to share his sentiment.