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Journal entry * Captain Marcel Ghostraven * 4.11.16
The initial trials of the Auric Rectifier are complete and I am pleased that preliminary recordings indicate suitable conditions for a maiden voyage- perhaps as soon as tomorrow evening. I have double and triple checked my calculations. If I am correct, my departure and return should be almost synchronous, but it is better to leave nothing to chance so I have packed provisions enough for a week. Perryn will supervise the instrumentations in my laboratory again, though after the last trial ruined his best hat, I have agreed to pay him “a bottle of wine with which to toast my eternal abject humiliation” for his services.
I admit that I am feeling encouraged about this expedition. Just imagine if I succeed! Conquering time and space at the age of 38!
But, as not to be a victim of my own hubris, I have purchased Perryn’s wine.
Journal entry* Captain Marcel Ghostraven * 4.15.16
I struggle for air constantly and every breath is arduous. At times I cough until I can no longer stand and my chest aches from the constant effort. This world appears to be made entirely of lava and gasses and my water supplies are badly depleted. I fear I do not conserve as well as I should, giving into pain of the cough.
I have used the last of my bandages and the blood from my leg seeps through. I was not well prepared.
Repairing the Auric Rectifier is proving challenging. I refrain from writing only to conserve my energy for work, still I must record something if only to create a momentary record that I was here.
It seems inevitable that I should die in this place but I cannot give up. It is my ship and I her captain. I will endeavor to pilot her home, or go down with her.
Journal entry * Captain Marcel Ghostraven * 4.12.16
Lacking water and food, I struggle to stay conscious. The pain in my leg is searing and at times the effort to continue on is overwhelming. I fear I am losing my faculties. Sometimes I see visions of my mother or father, or I find myself speaking to Perryn as though he were here chastising me for the foolishness of this endeavor. I’ve built the machine that can travel through time and space and across dimensions, and it is there that I will die alone.
In the night I dreamed that I was visited by a red haired woman with fiery eyes. She stayed distant, like a frightened animal, but examined me and my vessel thoroughly. I tried to speak to her. I reached out for her. It is curious that in my final moments I should simply wish to be close to another soul, to not be alone. I wish to know the pleasure of words and the comfort of a friend.
The Auric Rectifier is reading strange energies in the atmosphere that I do not understand. I have consumed all of the water.
I hope Perryn has enjoyed the wine. I would have liked to have shared a drink to my abject humiliation.
Journal entry *Captain Marcel Ghostraven* 4.13.16
I am in praise of all Gods and all miracles! I have awakened to a mysterious abundance of supplies! Though I have received no assurances of their safety, I am too near my own death to question. The water is sweet and cool and alone it would have been glorious, but it arrived with food unlike any I have ever tasted: fruits and vegetables of every color in abundance. There were fresh clothes too – well fit and made from materials finer than the most exquisite silk. I have also discovered within this wondrous gift a device that seems much like a diver’s respirator, it fits between my teeth and without source converts this atmosphere into a breathable oxygenated gas which is pure, like that aboard a soaring ship on the high sea. There are bandages and medicines for my wounds and a belt of strange tools. Most precious is a book written in a language I cannot decipher, but I marvel at the opportunity to study it.
What angel of heaven has delivered me? My fiery eyed vision? I cannot imagine. I can only give praise. I am feeling stronger than ever in my life.
Journal entry * Captain Marcel Ghostraven * 4.15.16
Repairs are making tremendous progress and I am encouraged that I may leave this place soon. I am increasingly concerned by strange atmospheric energy fluctuations, and there seems to be an unusual storm moving slowly across the sky.
I hope that this will not delay my departure.
Journal entry *Captain Marcel Ghostraven * 4.16.16
Today, the angel of my dreams has returned! I was under the Auric Rectifier and when she arrived I was covered in oil, banging on a broken carburetor. When I stood, she was here silently watching me with the most tremendous green eyes. I cannot shake the feeling that she was checking in on me, assuring that I was well. Her approach and demeanor were caring but regal.
The word beautiful does not describe her – it is too flat, too wholly human . She moves with an elegance and a strength, her form dancing and changing shape and color like the flame of a candle. Her hair is at one time auburn and amber and black as night. She is unlike anything I have ever seen – that I had the words!
I bowed to her deeply and gave her my heartfelt thanks, but the gesture seemed only to confuse her. She placed her hand upon her heart and said, “TriAnna.” I took this for the accepted gesture of greeting.
I placed my hand upon my heart and said, ‘TriAnna’ and then introduced myself as Marcel Ghostraven. She looked at me with confusion, as if she had expected some response from me that I did not understand. I was certain that I had offended her.
Again she placed her hands upon her heart and said, ‘TriAnna’.
I was embarrassed and I told her that it was a very pretty name, but again she looked at me quizzically.
I think now that TriAnna is not a greeting or her name, but rather her title or perhaps a status or position among her kind.
Having no understanding of her language or customs, I groped for any way to show her my gratitude, I owe her my life and I have nothing to give. There is not a gift I could conceive that would befit this amazing creature.
She was turning to leave when I remembered a song from my days at sea. It speaks of being alone and far from home and longing for a deep and true love. I decided in that moment to sing it to her, my hat in my hands. Music, they say, is a universal language. Softly and with all the feeling that I had in me to express what my lexicon could not covey, I sang.
TriAnna turned to me and listened with blazing eyes and before she left, she smiled shyly.