I know all too well why I am here. I am here because the emir has exiled me to this place, this cluster of marshes and islets. The mainland is tantalizingly close, but to return would be a death sentence. My only hope is to prove myself here, among these mists.
Unfortunately, it is a mystery what this land is, if land is even the word. I may cross a valley in the evening and discover a lake in its place the next morning. At the last new moon I spied a menacing tower in the distance. Investigating, I came upon it a full league closer than it ought have been. The tower looked like a ruin, but my men would come no closer to it.
And now my own camp has become stranger still. I commanded my men to build fortifications, and they began the work eagerly. At midmorning yesterday, before the outer wall was even half complete, the fog lifted to reveal a turret at the wall's end that none of us had seen before. It seemed ancient, its merlons weather-worn, its arches covered with woody vines. Yet its stones joined those of the wall as if Habib had laid them himself.
I have delayed as long as I could, but I can delay no longer. If I hope to uncover the secrets of this uncannily drifting island, I must enter the turret.