The Broken Compass

In the heart of the tempest, beneath the beaten sails, lies the compass of forgotten tales. It doesn't indicate north, but the flickers on the glass remind sailors of timeworn destinations. Each stop a moment, carved into waves of history.

Somewhere, lost between the static blares, the map coordinates whisper secrets not meant for daylight. The compass spins, not looking for land, but for the faces of crewmates past, positioned in shadows, holding lanterns fading like the night.

Here, decisions are made in hushed tones. Directions given between breath and sea spray. The compass doesn't seem broken now as it hums its crooked song.

Continue the journey: Starfield Directory

Find your bearings: Traverse Map