The Imperfect's Journal: 1

June 20th, 2066

I never thought I would see a cloud more terrifying than the previous one that promised a storm at sea. Yet, here I am, staring at a thick, hazy formation in the distance that's causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.

The cloud is horrific, but it's hovering over a landmass that Trent says is Ireland. If we go around that mass, we'll reach Liverpool. We're hardly a day or two from our destination, at this point.

But not one of us has moved to steer the ship in that direction. We don't know how close we want to get. It's not because we're afraid of lightning, as there doesn't seem to be any. We aren't afraid of another storm, either; a storm cloud isn't at all what's obscuring an entire country from our view.

The cloud isn't gray or black. It's purple. A dark, terrifying purple. The dense, oddly-colored fog covers the ground and stretches hundreds of feet into the sky, gradually dissipating and losing its density as it rises. Even from this distance, we can see thick funnels forming like upside-down tornados, spinning into the sky above.

It's different, seeing this fog in person. Yes, it was terrifying on the news. I worried greatly for Sara when I first saw the footage of the Renewer's effects in Australia. But here... here, mere miles from the Renewer's impact, separated by nothing but a few miles of water... It's another experience entirely.

I know we have to move toward it. We can avoid the cloud and circle Ireland. I just can't muster up the courage to steer our boat into the unknown. Even Trent and daring Jess are silently staring.

Someone has to be brave enough for the rest of us. I'm trying.