I've been on ships since I was little. My father was a navigator. He taught me to read. Read books, Read maps, Read the stars, Read everything.

Now the thought of returning to the sea fills me with dread. The nightmares continue.

When I was 12 I was on my first crew as a cabin boy. I would fetch items and report on things. I learned my way around the ship. Perfecting tying down the lines and such. And I would read every book I could. The captain stated once that if all the maps went overboard, I'd likely remember enough to get us to any port we desired.

I can't think about the waters. Not knowing what lurk benieth them. 

When I was 16 I'd started working as a proper sailor. Usually maintaining the boats and managing supply reprovisions. But I would also work wherever. When you work on a ship, you do what needs to be done. No questions.

Maybe we should have questioned more. Following the cultist's route was the biggest mistake I ever made.

When I was 18 I started my last voyage. Months later I look old and frail. My dreams are haunted and my life is one of constant fear. Not knowing is better than knowing.  Once you peek past the veil, there is no unlooking.

I must find something to distract me from the Truth. 

I move on. Looking for a less interesting adventure.