I still can't believe they're gone. Out the window, they look like some kind
of twisted supernova, deformed by the imperfections in the transparent fungal
window.

And as if losing our generation ship, all our supplies, and, for most of us,
our families, wasn't enough, Kieran told me there's something killing the void
fungus. Our station is sick. She needs me to bring the news to Spirehold and
bring back an antidote. I don't think I can fly right now, but I don't have a
choice. If I don't, we lose Paradox too, and that leaves just Spirehold. And
whoever else managed to escape the stellar death that drove us from our home.

Damn the sick gods. They must enjoy seeing us mortal worms squirming. At least
that means they probably won't let us die off entirely.

To Spirehold, then.

~̸̛͓͋~̷̼̥̅~̶͎͓̋̀
U̶̺̯̓̍S̵̘͗Ȇ̷̞̭R̵̮͉̒̾:̴̥̖̈́ ̶̥̠͑A̸͆͜ṡ̶̯͓t̶͉̒̃r̵̪̂i̶̡͖̾̆d̸̝͔̆ ̸̧͈̍͘E̸̪̰̅͗r̴̭̣͒i̵͉͓̇s̸̞̱̔́
Ś̸̨Y̶͓͇̐͆Ś̴̫̯T̷̤̺̈́̊E̸͔͛͊M̶̯͍͑:̸͈͑͌ ̶̟͗V̷͓̚Ô̶̭͊I̷̬͂D̴̬̞̀C̶̯͈̊͗Ó̶͚Ṁ̸͙̒M̶͈̊̔
~̸̛͓͋~̷̼̥̅~̶͎͓̋̀
