Weathered Scrap 428

Found near the forward rail of the Galehart Airship.

The ink blurred by wind and the damp of the morning and the edges of the parchment frayed, as if torn from a logbook.

"8th Moon of the Year

Clouds are breaking over the Ragne lowlands north of Blackwood Grove, I swear I saw the stone spires in full daylight. The Mists that have wrapped them for years are pulling back like a tide. Not thinning, not patchy, but receding, as though being chased away.

The elder members on deck muttered charms, claiming the old pacts are unraveling.

From the sky, the fields look raw, emerald green in places I remember only as gray. But there’s movement in those uncovered places… shapes too large for deer, but far too slow for any beasts I know of.

The fires are lit in town, but the signal smoke’s gone unanswered. I’ll not linger in this airspace longer than we must. If the Mists keep falling back, the groundfolk will see more than they care to.

And so will we."

A single thumbprint of soot mars the lower corner. No signature.