The Deathless Islands

Some say the Deathless Islands are as close to paradise as one can get this side of the afterlife. Of course something about a place with "deathless" in the name being compared to the what comes next just sits wrong with me. Just like the islands... there is a reason everyone leaves.

— Jasper Cameron, Leader of The Bronze Ravens.

I feel the end coming. Such a weierd thing for me to write, especially here. Nevertheless it is true. I am the last steward of the Bosturmil legacy. I fear this world is not yet ready for our passing, yet the signs point to it being inevitable.
We were here when the first sailor washed up on the shore. Bruised, bloodied, dying though we had no concept of such. So he... didn't. We watched as he slowly healed. We watched as he grew healthy and strong. We watched as he build a raft, and we watched him leave.
That should have been the end of it. Then more came, and they kept coming and coming. They built the tower, wrong of course. How can you build something without good foundations? Thats why it whispers, you know. Slight misdrawing of the runes, slight mispronunciation of some words and you never know what you let it. Course, you lot dont mind. That just led to more people coming. Then they built their city. They keep coming, but they aslo keep leaving, and they dont know why.
But now Manannán mac Lir calls me, and so I must go. This war has taken so many of us. I shall try to set things right before I leave, but the Shadow of Summer is coming, and I cannot be here when it arrives.