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The world did not end that night. I rose in the morning to see that the sky still glowed green, and its light was still visible to us at sea, even with the sun blazing above. The crew could talk about nothing else. There were so many questions, none of which would receive answers 'til we made port in Antiva.
From there, things only became stranger.
As dusk fell, I found myself once again on the decks, having realized that it was the fresh air that kept the seasickness at bay. I was entertaining idle thoughts. The book I'd been reading had filled my head with curious tales of things seen at sea. That was when I saw the light, flickering like a candle flame, floating above the water, the same shade of green we saw in the sky the night before. As I watched, a bank of mist emerged from it and stretched toward the Sea Lily. Peeking out of the mist were white sails and prow, headed straight for us. It took everything I had to find my voice, but I called up to the crow's nest. "Look!" I cried and pointed. The watchmen's eyes widened, and the bell was sounded. The call went out to the helmsman: "Turn! Hard to starboard!"
We swung wide and narrowly passed the ship in the mists. I will never forget what I saw next. Hissing faces, some wreathed in flame, some in smoke, with dark holes for eyes and rows of sharp teeth. They were everywhere - on the decks, up in the rigging. I fell back in fright and must have lost consciousness.
When I came to, I saw the helmsmen standing over me, his face ashen. We both knew what we had seen. It was the Windline Marcher, come out of legend into reality.
—From the account of Vierre Lazar of Treviso, rumored to be a retired Antivan Crow