We broke the surface of the water with a rush of bubbles and salt spray, our ship emerging from the depths like a shadow from the abyss. Bright light flooded the deck, the open skies of the New World stretching out above us in every direction. The transition was so sudden that it almost felt disorienting, the pressure of the deep ocean replaced by the vastness of open air.
"We made it," Mirabel murmured, shielding her eyes as she scanned the horizon. The thrill in her voice was unmistakable. "The New World."
I nodded, steering us toward the nearest landmass on the Log Pose. For as long as I could remember, reaching these waters had felt like the beginning of a new chapter, a path into a world full of secrets and power. But power here came with risk, and I wasn't underestimating what lay ahead.
Ahead of us, a jagged line of land rose up from the ocean, stretching along the horizon like a spine of dark rock and green jungle. The island, though unmarked by any label on the maps we'd gathered, was our first point of contact in the New World, a place I could gather essentials, most importantly, a permanent Log Pose to Punk Hazard.
The waters surrounding the island were rougher than any I'd encountered before. Sudden waves surged against the hull, shifting with an unpredictable rhythm that forced constant adjustments to keep our course steady. Each swell felt like a reminder of the ocean's force here, as if the sea itself was alive, testing us.
Mirabel held the helm, her gaze steady as she matched the ship's movements to the tide's abrupt swells. "Feels like the water here has a mind of its own," she muttered, her grip tight on the wheel.
"Welcome to the New World," I replied, watching the waves. "Nothing here is going to follow the rules we're used to."
As we approached the island's port, a small village came into view, clinging to the edge of the shore with a mix of wooden docks and brightly colored buildings. Even from a distance, I could see the signs of a place hardened by the harsh realities of the New World. The buildings looked reinforced, each one built with materials that could withstand high winds and the ever-present threat of unexpected storms.
We docked, securing the ship against the wild currents, and stepped onto the worn wood of the dock. The air was thick with the scent of salt and the distant tang of something metallic, perhaps from the blacksmith's forge down the way. A few fishermen cast wary glances our way, their expressions a blend of suspicion and curiosity, but they didn't linger. In the New World, strangers were as much a threat as the wild seas.
Our first stop was a small supply shop just off the dock. Inside, shelves were crammed with everything from fishing equipment to hardy travel gear designed for weathering harsh conditions. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and a deeply tanned face, looked up as we entered, his gaze sharp.
"Travelers, huh?" he asked, a hint of intrigue in his tone. "You two don't look like the usual kind that make it through the New World's front gate."
"We don't plan on staying long," I replied, keeping my tone casual. "Just need to pick up a permanent Log Pose to navigate further."
The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of interest sparking in his gaze. "You're headed somewhere specific then," he said, his voice low. "That's no cheap purchase, you know. Permanent Log Poses don't come easy here. Each one's crafted to survive the chaos of this ocean."
I reached into my satchel and produced a handful of coins, enough to cover what I anticipated would be the price. The shopkeeper glanced down, nodded, and turned toward a cabinet behind the counter. He unlocked it with a brass key, pulling out a small case that held a line of permanent Log Poses, each one encased in reinforced glass with the needle fixed in a steady position.
"Where's your heading?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Punk Hazard," I replied.
The shopkeeper's gaze flickered with something I couldn't quite read, a mix of recognition and maybe even caution. "Punk Hazard, huh? You two aren't afraid of picking dangerous destinations, are you?" He selected a Log Pose from the case and set it on the counter with a hint of reluctance.
"Seems like no one who enters the New World is exactly a stranger to danger," I replied. The shopkeeper gave a dry chuckle, nodding as he passed the Pose to me.
"True enough. But that place, well, it's known for some nasty rumors. Labs, experiments, government ties. It's a cold place, I'll tell you that much. Make sure you've got more than just a strong stomach." He took the coins, his eyes studying us for another moment before he turned back to his work.
I slipped the Log Pose into my satchel, its needle now fixed on our next destination. Punk Hazard was just a name to most, but I knew what lay ahead, or, at least, I had some idea of what the island's dark history held.
As we left the shop, Mirabel glanced at me, her gaze thoughtful. "So, that's it then? We're really heading for a place that even locals in the New World are wary of?"
"It's what we came here for," I replied, matching her stride as we returned to the docks. "Everything on that island is a step toward understanding what's possible. If we're going to reach the limits of this world, we have to start by pushing through its worst."
A strong wind blew across the docks, sending salt spray into the air as I looked out at the open sea, the unknown stretching ahead of us. It was strange, being here, knowing the world's strongest forces lay just beyond the horizon, each one a mystery and a challenge waiting to be faced. But it was the very risk that made the journey worthwhile. For every danger the New World held, it also offered opportunities, fragments of knowledge waiting to be claimed by those with the will to seek them.
As we returned to the ship, Mirabel cast one last look at the island's quiet port. "It's almost eerie, isn't it?" she said, her voice thoughtful. "Knowing that the deeper we go, the fewer people we'll find that have come back from this journey."
"That's what makes it worth it," I replied, setting the Log Pose on the helm and fixing it in place. The needle pointed unwaveringly toward Punk Hazard, our path now clear. "If it were easy, it wouldn't mean anything."
She gave a slight nod, her expression steeling as she looked toward the horizon. With the sails set and the Log Pose guiding our way, we cast off, letting the wind carry us away from the island and back into the vast unknown of the New World.
As we sailed onward, the island faded into the distance, the waves growing more unpredictable, the skies shifting in rapid patches of sun and shadow. The journey to Punk Hazard would test us, I knew, but each challenge was another step forward.