The ribbons of cloud that twisted around the ship thickened, until slowly, the Black Horizon was consumed by fog. Rain churned the ocean. Despite this, the air was unnaturally quiet. The wind had died down and the sea was flat. The ship cut, almost noiselessly, through the water, its creaks and groans eerie in the stillness. The crew drifted to the sides of the vessel, staring into the murk. Nobody spoke. Each stood alone, looking for something, anything, a landmark, a gap in the cloud, a sign of life. But there was none. Scoop shivered. This place was deathly.