Our investigation into the cursed vessel continued this day, though it began with an incident that had nothing to do with ships, curses, or the Ebon Syndicate.
As we made our way through Rivergate toward the Arcane Enclave, Amityria suddenly became distressed. Whatever composure she normally carries abandoned her for a moment, and she seemed trapped within memories invisible to the rest of us. I have seen similar expressions before. During the final years of the Aetheric War, some angels carried horrors within them that could not be healed by any celestial art. They continued to fight, continued to serve, yet part of them remained imprisoned by what they had witnessed.
Mortals are no different in this regard. Their wounds are merely less visible.
I spoke with her for a time and managed to calm her enough to continue. The exchange was brief, but it reminded me how little I know about the companions with whom I now travel. We have faced danger together, yet most of us remain strangers carrying private burdens.
Upon reaching the Arcane Enclave, we were introduced to Captain Lyria, who would assist us in our investigation. She immediately struck me as a practical and disciplined woman. Unlike many officials, she seemed uninterested in appearances or political maneuvering. Her attention remained fixed upon the welfare of Rivergate and the threat posed by the cursed ship. In a world increasingly defined by ambition and self-interest, such dedication is refreshing.
The survivor of the vessel was being held there as well. When I examined him, it became clear that his condition was not the result of any ordinary illness. The corruption spreading through his body resembled a form of poison, though one born from fungus or plant matter rather than alchemy. It was not merely consuming him. It was changing him. Even then I suspected that whatever had afflicted the crew originated from something carried aboard the vessel itself.
As the day progressed, we learned more about the ship and its captain. His name was Garrick Voss, master of a vessel called La Esperanza. The irony of that name was difficult to ignore. Hope is among the most powerful forces known to mortals. Entire kingdoms are built upon it. Wars are fought for it. Faith survives because of it. Yet this particular vessel had arrived in Rivergate carrying only death and corruption.
Its cargo manifests revealed several legitimate goods alongside a collection of mysterious medical supplies. Someone had paid Captain Voss handsomely to transport these items without asking questions and without attracting attention. Such arrangements rarely lead to anything honorable.
During our inquiries, we also crossed paths with a woman named Lady Zephyra while searching the markets. The encounter was brief, yet it remains lodged in my thoughts. She appeared to possess some gift of divination and addressed us with cryptic observations that revealed little and implied much. Ordinarily I have little patience for prophets who speak in riddles, but there was something unsettling about her certainty. She looked upon us as though she perceived threads invisible to everyone else.
I find myself wanting to seek her out again. Whether she possesses genuine insight or merely the appearance of it, I cannot yet determine. Still, there was a time when beings in Heaven could perceive the currents of fate. Those beings are gone now. If even a fragment of that sight survives among mortals, I would understand it.
Our investigation eventually brought us aboard La Esperanza itself.
The ship felt diseased long before we discovered the source of its corruption. Fungus had spread across the timbers, the rigging, and even portions of the cargo hold. Disturbing the growth released clouds of spores into the air. The infestation appeared almost deliberate in its spread, as though the vessel were being slowly reshaped into something else.
The spores proved dangerous in ways beyond simple sickness. Exposure altered perception and clouded judgment. Several members of our company felt their effects, though at the time we did not fully understand the danger. While searching the ship, we uncovered a hidden ledger that finally connected the mystery to a familiar name.
The Ebon Syndicate.
The secret medical supplies had been destined for them, and the records pointed toward a local contact known only as Rook. The trail led to a place called Lantern House, which had apparently served as a meeting point for Syndicate operations within Rivergate.
The discovery raised several questions. I noticed Memento Mori's continued interest whenever the Syndicate was mentioned. Likewise, Amityria seemed particularly attentive whenever new information surfaced. Neither volunteered much explanation. I did not press them. Every traveler chooses when to reveal the contents of their own baggage.
Once our search of La Esperanza was complete, it became clear that the vessel could not be saved. The corruption had spread throughout the ship, and no one was willing to risk leaving it anchored in Rivergate's harbor.
The authorities chose to tow it out to sea and burn it.
I watched from the shore as the flames consumed the vessel. There was something melancholy about the sight. Whatever crimes had been committed aboard her, La Esperanza had not been built for such a purpose. Like many things in this world, it had begun as something useful before corruption found its way inside.
When the burning wreck finally disappeared beneath the water, I found little satisfaction in its destruction. We had eliminated the source of the spores, but not the hands that had brought them to Rivergate.
Armed with our discoveries, we returned to the Arcane Enclave to question Captain Voss once more.
What followed was perhaps the most unsettling moment of the investigation.
The spores we had encountered aboard the ship had not left us untouched. While standing before the captain, I suddenly found my thoughts shifting in ways that felt entirely reasonable at the time. Suspicion became certainty. Certainty became anger. Before I understood what was happening, I was moving to attack the very man we had come to question.
At nearly the same moment, Memento Mori succumbed to a different compulsion and attempted to leave altogether.
Fortunately, our companions intervened before either impulse could lead to disaster.
The experience has troubled me more than I care to admit.
Since my fall, I have accepted many limitations. I no longer possess the strength I once commanded. My wings bear the scars of Heaven's destruction. I hunger, tire, and bleed as mortals do. Yet some part of me has always clung to the belief that my mind remained fundamentally my own.
This incident challenged that assumption.
The flesh I inhabit is vulnerable. It can be poisoned, manipulated, and deceived. More troubling still, those manipulations can feel entirely natural while they are occurring. Looking back upon the moment, I recognize the influence of the spores. While under their effect, however, my actions felt justified.
I cannot help but wonder whether the gods themselves experienced something similar during their final years. Madness rarely announces its arrival. It convinces its victim that nothing is wrong.
Our final destination was Lantern House.
Unfortunately, whatever operations the Ebon Syndicate had conducted there were already concluded. The building stood abandoned, its occupants long gone. Nevertheless, traces of their presence remained, confirming that we were following the correct trail.
We ended the day with more questions than answers.
The cursed cargo remains unaccounted for. The Ebon Syndicate continues to move unseen through Rivergate. A poisonous fungus spreads wherever these mysteries intersect. Somewhere at the center of it all stands a figure named Rook, whose shadow grows larger with every clue we uncover.
For now, all we can do is continue the search.
The dead gods taught many lessons through their failures. One of the most important is that corruption flourishes when ignored. Whether it takes the form of fungal spores, hidden conspiracies, or ambition masquerading as virtue, the principle remains the same. Left unattended, it spreads.
Rivergate is already infected.
The question before us is how much of the city can still be saved.
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