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144th of First, 1100 A.W. — Yesterday, our hope of seeing home again went up in flames. The HSS Heaven Sails is no more, a burnt carcass. Some pieces of it are probably on their way to the ocean by now. Maybe someday, a piece will drift back to the shores of Heaven’s Peninsula. Maybe. That’s about all the evidence that will return of us.

You can see it all in the eyes of the surviving crew. Shock, pain, fear, and anger… It’s all flowing through us like a sizzling stream of molten metal. Our future is cast. These canyons, or whatever lies beyond, will become our new home and grave. There’s no fixing it.

I barely have the motivation to write anymore, but it helps to keep my mind occupied. Only 47 of us are left now. 13 perished in the fire and chaos that followed. We know little about why or how it happened. At early dawn, a fire broke out on board. There was a great panic. Some crew aboard threw themselves over. Some died from the fall, and others perished when the airsail crashed and exploded on the island. We, the survivors, escaped the flames by jumping into the river. Most of the dead died there, drowning. We could still feel the heat and see the steam even a decent way downriver.

We haven’t lost everything. During the fire, some crew tossed as many supplies as they could overboard. I had all my records already with me on the island. However, I did lose one of my journals in the swim downriver — mainly containing technical minutiae. I’m surprised how well my leather scroll cases held up in the water. Most of the paper inside is in good condition.

Downriver, we found a hole in a rock wall. There’s a cave inside, with a whole network of tunnels. We’ve travelled deeper within and taken shelter. The caves are full of biting insects. The spiders, ants, and scorpions are the worst. They’re a bit bigger than the ones at home and a lot more vicious. At night, they won’t leave you alone. You can see them crawling all along the walls and ceiling, coming in and out of crevices in the rock. They drive the crew mad.

There’s also something else in these caves, something much larger than any insect, or mammal, for that matter. Captain Leaping Tiger thinks the crew are seeing things, but he’s wrong. I’ve seen it — only its eyes, its many eyes. Whatever it is, it’s bigger than Man. Maybe twice the size. Last night, I saw it watching us from another tunnel above our camp in the caves. The light from the fire reflected in its many dark, round beady eyes. It remained still all night but was gone by the time I awoke. I didn’t dare move. Some of the other men saw it, too.

Despite all that has happened, the captain has kept the surviving crew together. There are some with minor injuries. Our cook, Leap Frog, suffers from burns on his arms. He’s still keeping his spirits up, but Doctor Fog Eyes has ordered him to refrain from performing his duties. Fog Eyes is despondent. He sees the destruction of the airsail as if it were a divorce — from a wife he never married. I feel more shock than loss, but I’m grateful to be alive. However, getting shelter outside these caves will be a relief — away from all the insects.

These caves are not entirely enclosed. Light from the moon or the sun leaks through crevices in the rock above. Tonight is our second night. I write by faint candlelight. We’ve moved further in the caves since the first night, setting up camp in the broadest part of the caverns we could find. It’s still cramped but not as bad as the cabin was back on the airsail.

The mysterious creature I and some of the crew saw, we call it Many Eyes. I haven’t seen it tonight. We’re not in the same place we were before. One of the crew claims it looks like a giant millipede but with countless hairy, thin pairs of both bottom and top legs completely surrounding its body. He says it moves slowly and methodically. It would pull insects out of crevices with its legs, retracting them rapidly into its body. He did not get a sight of the creature’s length. Instead of turning around, it crept away backwards. He described its locomotion as silky smooth, with no bobbing of its eyes.

I don’t know if these descriptions of the creature help ease my mind at all. Perhaps, while curious of us, it doesn’t regard us as a potential meal. We’re much bigger than the insects, so I find it hard to believe it could swallow a man. We probably would taste a lot different, too.