A Letter to Sarah: The Sea is Calling

LAST DISPATCH: ARCHIE'S FARM

RECOVERED FROM A SEALED GLASS BOTTLE, SOLOMON ISLAND

Sarah, my love,

If you're reading this, the Fog has finally taken the house. I can hear them outside—the Draug. They aren't just fish-men, Sarah. They’re the ghosts of every sailor who ever died wishing for home. And they’re so very, very hungry.

The Polaris is calling. I can feel the vibration in the floorboards. It’s the Ur-Draug. It’s not just a monster; it’s a gravity. It pulls at the salt in my blood. I tried to stay, I really did. I even lit the old hurricane lamp, but the light just turned green and started to smell like rot.

"The sea doesn't want our prayers. It wants our silence. It wants us to walk into the surf and forget we ever had names."

Don't come looking for me. Stay in the cellar. Keep the salt circles tight. The bees told me you’d be safe if you didn't look at the moon. I’m going to the harbor now. I have to see what’s at the center of the Fog. I think it’s beautiful, in a horrible, wet sort of way.

Goodbye, Sarah. I’ll see you in the dreams of the deep.

— Yours always, Elias.