ABOARD THE DISCOVERY
The FOG has finally cleared. From the Gods in Heaven, blue skies! The silence, ominous and laced with desperation, lifted at once. Audible cries of joy, of pain, of acceptance can be heard from the crew. Most of these men never expected to see such beauty again, only the FOG. They named it the Gray Reaper. It is nearly impossible to know how long they had been sailing in the endless cloud, but the brilliant scientist, Nyven Ralus, claims it has been forty-two days. Six full weeks. A sickness had begun after a week. Some of the men swore it was merely a coincidence but the majority believed it was the FOG. Four crew members died from sickness. A simple fever doesn't kill off four seasoned sailors. Ten more had committed suicide. These were hard men, yet the FOG was never-ending; it was there when you were awake, when you were asleep...it's a surprise more sailors didn't choose to go overboard. Three more men died during a scuffle over a card game- one that didn't even have any money on the damn thing. The Gray Reaper had affected the psyche of those aboard the Discovery, causing strife and violence far outside the norm. Now, with only twenty-five men remaining, they had reemerged into a world of color. This is a glorious day!
Captain Farro Voylaren looks defeated as the crew cheers. A slight smile escapes him. He hasn't slept three hours straight since the second week of the FOG. His gaunt appearance mirrors that of his crew. No one has made it through this hell unscathed. Some of the men lost family members and lifelong friends; all of them lost brothers-in-arms. The Captain takes a few deep breaths. There still isn't any land in sight, but he now believes they will survive.
