Dearest Petrus,
I hope this letter finds its way true. I have witnessed
the most incredible things from beyond
the world’s edge, and I wish you were here to
see them. We have returned once again to Fredericksberg,
which seems to have grown even in
the few weeks I was away. We sailed north to find
what lies in the oceans between
Virentia and Silexia.
We followed a chain of islands that swept
in an unerring curve like the rim of some great
terrestrial platter. Each jungle-covered isle has at
its centre a vast obsidian structure, ancient and
ruined, carved with symbols none of us can fathom.
The islands are deserted and – other than
these
gigantic fragments of black stone – they are
unremarkable. But when we attempted to sail between
them and explore what lies on the western
side of their perimeter, we were forced to turn
back. The ship was warped by strange forces,
its wooden beams coated in terrifying, pulsating
growths. Several crewmen were taken ill with
unusual symptoms, and we were even harried by
large, tentacled creatures that lurked in the water
by night. Fortunately, I have survived these tribulations
and hope to return to your sweet – and
safe – embrace, as soon as I possibly can.
Your loving Gertrude
930 A.S.
— Letter undelivered by Sonnstahl Postmaster;
recipient deceased
