Beyond the Shadowshroud

Far to the east of Myrengol, a colossal ocean stretches into infinity. This vast expanse is the Shadowshroud, which is named after the peculiar fog that sporadically drifts across its surface. Unlike common mist, which does little more than reduce visibility, the fog of the Shadowshroud has a taste for flesh. According to the legends of those cultures who reside along its shores, when the enshrouding mists approach, the animals rush to their dens and the fish dive deep below the waves. Likewise, the people barricade themselves within their homes and wait with bated breath. They say that anyone who is enwreathed by the fog will never be seen again. It is for this reason, along with the ocean's gargantuan size, that the truth of what lies beyond the Shadowshroud is steeped in mystery.

Speculation and rumour regarding the distant shores are abundant, though most have little basis in fact. Many sailors have returned with fanciful stories about the supposed Land Behind the Shadow, with such preposterous claims such as it being the homeland of the Baelonmori Pantheon or a great waterfall that tumbles down into the abyss below. Despite these tall tales, there are some accounts of what exists in that most remote locale. One such example is an old Esameni legend (the people native to the Ulabari Isles of the Shadowshroud) which speaks of a ghost ship that washed ashore many centuries ago. This vessel had belonged to an expeditionary party who had departed two decades prior and was thought to have been lost forever. On board, there was no sign of a struggle, and only a journal remained as insight into the missing crew's fate.

The details were unnerving. Supposedly, the ship and her crew had sailed for over a year without sight of land, and even the most avid of seafarers amongst them had come to lament the lack of land. Ignoring the crew's pleas to turn around, the captain insisted that they were nearly upon their destination. Had he not been proven right on the day that he was, a mutiny would have seen him tossed overboard. Before them, towering mountains, even larger than the Godgraves of Greater Astrania, loomed over the horizon. Through the gaps in the peaks, the golden sun's light fell in radiant slices. Verdant valleys flowed like rivers between the stony cliffs and ridges, spilling out into dense forests along the shores. At first, the weary travellers were elated, but this feeling did not last.

The writer states that he was one of the first sceptics of this new land. The whole place seemed slightly unnatural - each mountain appeared identical to the one beside it, down to the incline of every slope. Secondly, he noticed how perfectly straight the coastline was as it stretched from precisely north to exactly south. Everything seemed too perfectly neat to be true. He regrets that he did not warn his fellow sailors of his suspicions before they climbed ashore. As so many were eager to feel dry land beneath their feet again, they ignored the peculiarity of this place. In their excitement, they anchored the ship and rowed to the beach with great enthusiasm. It was not long until they realised they were not alone.

People appeared at the treeline at the top of the beach. At a cursory glance, nothing appeared unusual about them: their bodies, faces, and movements all seemed normal. Still, something was uncanny about them. The strangers began to beckon the sailors towards them, smiling widely as they invited the newcomers to follow them from the beach. Perhaps the many moons at sea had wore away the wits of some, for a few of the adventurers strode forward. Others who retained some of their caution called out to the natives with greetings and questions and requests. The strangers did not speak in return. Not because they did not understand the Esameni, but as if they had not heard them at all. At this moment, the first of the sailors reached the strangers by the treeline. A woman with fair and beautiful features reached out her hand to retrieve the tired seafarer, and he took her hand. In an instant, she clasped his hand so tight that he cried out in pain, and then she sprinted away into the forest, dragging her victim behind her.

Panic surged across the beach. Suddenly, the other natives were bounding down onto the beach and snatching sailors one after another. Everyone else rushed towards the rowboats, hauling them from the sand with all of their strength, and casting frantic glances towards the snatchers, who were rushing towards them at a thunderous pace. Each moment they looked back, they saw another of their compatriots being dragged towards the trees. As the boat splashed into deeper waters and everyone piled in, they turned to look at the strangers. Motionless, they stood up to their knees in the shallows. They wore no expression upon their faces but their eyes were unmistakably locked on their escaping prey. Then, dread dawned upon them. One of the rowboats remained on the beach.

The journal details the events of the next few days. Every soul aboard was shaken, and nearly every day passed without a word. Each night, the sailors would keep watch of the ship's wake, nervously spying the horizon for any sign of the strangers. Shortly after these pages, the journal entries ceased.