My love, you were right. There are other realms—other worlds—beyond the ice. Oh, how I wish you were here to see this. And oh, how strange, how different everything is here. It’s more than I could possibly remember, even with magical aid, so I’ve decided to keep this journal. I don’t want to forget a single detail when I finally get to tell you all about it in person.

  If only you had held out for a few days more, you would be here, discovering this with me. But, my love, you died.

  I spent that first day in our ship’s cabin, cradling your body. Perhaps that was foolish of me. I was certain I was soon to follow—we had been becalmed for weeks, with no food left to stave off hunger and little oil to keep out the cold. But then, as if from out of nowhere, the wind picked up again. It was a strong wind, blowing from the west. The boat shuddered as we continued our slide across the endless field of ice.

  Malnourished and exhausted though I was, I set to work immediately, carried more by muscle memory than anything. With no light by which to see, I couldn’t tell if the sled blades affixed to the hull were free of obstruction; what little oil we had left was reserved for heating our cabin, and so there was none left for my lantern. By now, of course, we were both well-accustomed to working under the sunless sky of the ice field, and I busied myself securing the rigging to ensure our sail could take full advantage of the wind.

  So it came as a shock to me when I realized that I could see, ever so faintly, the outlines of my hands as I looped two lengths of rope together. Perhaps I had forgotten what light looked like, so accustomed I was to the pitch black. I paused as my eyes adjusted to the change. In some ways, it was unsettling, this peeling away of the darkness that had become my constant companion, but there was also a wash of relief as I used my eyes for the first time in weeks.

  The relief was short-lived as the world gave out from under us. We had reached the edge of the ice.

  This, too, you had foreseen. We had ice-anchors and rope ladders and even silken sheets to slow our descent. Sadly, we had failed to consider that we would be working in utter darkness; when the end of the ice came, I couldn’t see it. As our boat flew off the ice ledge, I tumbled up into the air and became entangled in the rigging. It was painful and precarious, but I suspect I would have been flung to my death otherwise.

  We came down on the water below with a deafening splash. The ocean closed in around me. The water was warmer than the frigid air above the ice field, but it soaked into my furs in the space of a breath, robbing me of precious insulation. I tried to untangle myself, but my fingers had grown numb from some combination of starvation and hypothermia, and all I could do was dangle helplessly a mere foot above the deck. I thank the ancestors we didn’t capsize, or I would not have lived to write this journal for you.

  In that moment, I felt no such gratitude. We had proven your theory correct. There are other worlds beyond the ice walls that surround Guntao. We were perhaps the first explorers to reach this new realm, but I was consigned to die before seeing any of it! The wind howled around me, swinging me this way and that as I hung by my feet, rain buffeting my face—it was a storm, I realized, perhaps the same storm whose winds carried us here.

  Lightning flashed. And again, and again—I have no idea how much time passed between each strike, as all sense of time slipped from me, and the only awareness I had were those brief instants of illumination.

  And then, on the fourth flash, a great shadow overtook our vessel.

  I couldn’t comprehend it at first. There was the gleam of metal with each flash, and once it was upon us it seemed to match our heading. It was as if someone had placed an iron wall, taller even than our mast, upon the waves.

  What was this wall? It had to have been made by some intelligence. By people, even! I called up to them, though my voice was naught but a hoarse whisper. I soon saw the silhouettes of faces peering down at me from atop their high wall; I cannot say if they heard me or if they were merely curious about our strange little boat.

  And then they were around me, gleaming knives cutting me free and rough hands hefting me up from where I lay. Perhaps it was merely the delirium of shock and malnourishment, but they seemed to move with otherworldly speed. One of the figures leaned in toward my ear, shouting over the storm so I could hear him.

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  An incomprehensible, guttural, flat series of sounds.

  Was it that the wind and waves had garbled their message? No, I had heard them clearly. I feared my mind was in such disorder that I had forgotten what human speech sounded like.

  Nonetheless, I had to tell them. I shouted against the wind that you were in the cabin, but the figure shook his head at me. I felt strong arms wrap around me, and then I was aloft, and the world blurred about me and our boat looked so small and you were so far and—

  I apologize, love. Things are better now, in a way, but the fear of that moment hasn’t fully left me yet. If I had truly lost you forever… If your body was taken by the sea permanently… Well, I shall get to that.

  The figure who had lifted me from our boat deposited me on a metal surface. The wind and rain still lashed at my face, but bright lights shone from some indeterminate source, illuminating the whole expanse of floor. It was easily thrice over the length of our own boat.

  The wall, then, was actually the hull of a great vessel. This ship matched Guntao’s greatest warships in size, but I’d never heard of such a ship made entirely of metal.

  I tried to stand, but my legs lacked the strength. The world was spinning such that there was no sure footing left to me, but I could not allow myself to succumb to fatigue. You were still down there, and only these people could save you.

  There were perhaps half a dozen of them on the deck, including the man who had hauled me aboard. His hands were still on my arm, fingers digging in to restrain me; I shook him free and he released his grip.

  A group of them had gathered at the railing. They were all rather short, save for the one who stood at the center; he was the only one who was taller than me, with broad shoulders and a sort of overcoat that distinguished him from the rest. He must be the captain, I decided. I made my way to him in fits and starts as the feeling slowly returned to my legs.

  I had to tell him that you were still on our boat. Surely, I reasoned, he would ensure your body’s safe retrieval so we could call your soul back to the mortal plane.

  I inserted myself into the group, and, thankfully, the others made way for me—I doubt I had the strength to push them aside. The captain turned to me, then gave a little leap. He shouted a few words, barely audible over the sound of the storm. It was the same sort of guttural sounds from before, when they plucked me from the rigging of our boat.

  The lightning flashed, and between that and the ship’s lights I had my first good look at my savior: red-faced, bulbous-nosed, bulging-eyed. He was like an ogre from a fairytale! I recoiled in fear, and then we watched each other for a long moment.

  I did not see malice in those eyes. I couldn’t tell what it was, exactly, in those distorted features of his, but this strange creature held no ill will towards me. Perhaps that was instinct, or perhaps it was blind hope borne of desperation—I needed his help regardless of how he looked.

  I motioned down to our boat which was now barely visible against the waves below. “My husband is down there!” I told him. “You must save him!”

  His face crumpled in what could only be confusion.

  “Please!” I fell to the floor, pressing my forehead to the cold metal deck in prostration. “I beg of you!”

  He let me lie there for several seconds before grabbing my arm and helping me up with surprising gentleness. He spoke some more of his strange, grunted words. These creatures didn’t use the same language that we speak in Guntao, I realized. It had somehow never occurred to me that the denizens of other realms would have different forms of communication, or that there was such a thing as other languages.

  Something in my face must have told him that I didn’t understand. He thrust a finger down towards the water, then splayed his fingers upward while shaking his hand and making a loud shushing sound.

  “Yes, the boat is sinking,” I agreed. “But my husband is still aboard!”

  He recoiled slightly. I tried pantomiming bringing something up from the boat, but he shook his head. Moving slowly and deliberately, he pointed first at me and then down, after which he raised two fingers. There are two of you. He pointed at me again, then raised a thumb in the air. You are [???]. Then he pointed down, drew his thumb across his throat. The other one is [cut throat…dead???].

  Had one of his crewmen already gone below and discovered your body? Why would it matter that you were dead? That’s why we needed your body in the first place!

  I moved to dive off the edge of the ship, but he grabbed me and pulled me back. One of the other crewmen gave a shout, and I turned to see the mast of our boat sink beneath the waves. I went slack, and the captain held me up so I could watch. The tiny vessel that had been our home for so long vanished beneath the foreign sea.

  I vaguely recall trying to hurl myself after it again, but several pairs of strong hands helped the captain drag me back to the deck.

  I don’t know how long they held me there, but I screamed. I screamed until I could scream no more. And then I cried. I cried until I had no more tears. I thought I had lost you for good, that I would never hear your voice again, or see your smiling face as you say my name. That was several days ago; my throat is still sore.

  But this realm has wonders of its own. I see the beginning of the path that will return you to my side. I will have you back, my love, and I will show you this new world.