The world broke.

We saw countless visions come and pass.

When the Doctor struck the conduits of the Light and the Darkness.

The world cried in pain.

Like a dying patient, a soldier that was shot, and it was loud. The world cried as if it couldn’t understand, then the Conduits blinked, the world, the very land itself breaks.

The last I saw was the Doctor standing in front of the Conduits, watching as the world judged him for his sins.

‘What right did he have to decide?’

And yet I hear the lies, the pain, and truth that is so simple that it made me understand why our kindest would do such a thing.

He was a Doctor, a healer, and he saw that the world was suffering. He needed to fight back, no matter what the cost and I knew that he would.

For there is no man that would risk his life, to live so long for the sake of others.

But I often ask myself, whether the Elven-kin, who we have trusted, and bled for can be forgiven. There are those who stayed with us, using the last of their breath, to make sure that we remain.

With the living island slaughtered. The fleet, battered and beaten by the forces of the Interstice.

We left the Doctor and although the Elven-kin have abandoned us to escape this world. Lady Felecia and her people showed their strength, using the words of power to construct a ritual that would shield the fleet from the choice made by the Doctor.

The Light was gone, and the Dark was not present either.

A banal space of gray where only flickers of light are presented.

We were hungry, but we endured as the days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and months to years.

We didn’t have the island, but we had discipline. The discipline, and desire to continue on living, making use of our barges, and the rest of our ships to create land that can sustain our existence.

As I grow old, and I came to understand how long I have been fighting for the sake of my people. I was left with grievous worry that I wouldn’t be able to finish our voyage.

But whether the world healed or not. As the powers waned, and the words of power flicker, we saw a new land blooming with plants and life.

The sun broke the dark, accompanied by the soft silver light of the moon itself. As my son accompanied me to the beaches where my fellow comrades felt the warmth of the sun and the fresh air that we have missed.

The children asked me for a tale. And I thought it was appropriate to tell them where we have started and where we are now.

As the Grand-Galleons and the rest of the fleet are moored to the coastline, I face the children, the ones that will have to carry on the weight of responsibility and struggle.

“Once upon a time, there was a journey to the thousand islands of the Grand Fleet of the Reconnoiter Company in the Grand-Galleon of Milostiv.”