October 25, 1777 - The Horizon Beckons

Location: 29.9823° N, 87.3452° W

Weather: Sunrise casts a golden path across the ocean, a beacon as we navigate toward destiny's embrace.

As the silhouette of the New World begins to emerge on the horizon, a mixture of anticipation and reflection washes over the crew of the Heureux. The air is thick with the promise of landfall, each breath a reminder of the journey’s purpose and the impending challenges that await us. The Baron, ever the visionary, gathers us to discuss the final preparations, his words imbued with the weight of our collective hopes and the sacrifices that have brought us to this precipice.

In these moments of preparation, I find myself drawn to the intricate tapestry of relationships that have defined our voyage. Observations of the crew, each person a vital thread in the narrative of our journey, reveal a mosaic of resilience and unity. Yet, amidst this broader contemplation, my thoughts invariably drift to Alaric, his evolution from a young man of quiet resolve to a confident participant in our shared destiny.

As twilight descends, casting long shadows across the deck, I retreat to the sanctity of our cabin, the concept of ‘our’ space now deeply ingrained in my consciousness. The proximity of our arrival has lent a new intensity to my observations of Alaric, a desire to memorize the nuances of his presence, the cadence of his voice, the subtle expressions that dance across his features.

Tonight, as I pen this entry, the gentle rhythm of Alaric's breathing fills the cabin, a testament to the deep bond that has flourished in the crucible of our journey. The warmth of him beside me, a balm to the tumult of my thoughts, is a presence I find myself reluctant to relinquish. In the quiet of the night, as I seek sleep, I hold him closer, a silent acknowledgment of the memories I wish to carry forward, and the unspoken farewell that looms on the horizon.