We drift through constellations that seem both familiar and foreign. The north star remains steadfast, yet the horizon dances with the flicker of distant worlds. Our charts, once confident in their lines, now appear riddled with the ink-blots of uncertainty.
Today, we encountered the ethereal phenomenon known as the Waking Nebula, a spectral swirl that no map ever dared to predict. The crew whispers of omens and forgotten deities, their voices barely audible beneath the hum of the cosmos.
Our course has altered beneath the influence of unseen tides—celestial tides that science struggles to decipher. The sphere of theory expands, yet we remain encased within the limits of our own understanding. The stars mock our ambitions with silent laughter.