Perhaps this is the moment I finally begin taking religion seriously.
Because clearly I now require divine assistance.
Or at minimum a specialist trained in forged documents, fabricated evidence, and advanced psychological harassment.
Today I found another paper.
Another.
At this point I am no longer questioning whether someone is targeting me specifically.
The only remaining question is why.
Did I make some terrible social mistake?
Was I too curious?
Too greedy-looking?
Did the black robe council collectively decide I would be entertaining to mentally dismantle?
I discovered this newest document near the entrance leading toward the underground crypt chambers.
The black robe crypt chambers.
The same location Miss DeLuna attempted to casually “show me around” earlier today.
Naturally I refused.
Absolutely not.
I would rather negotiate silk tariffs with starving pirates.
The paper itself already feels cursed.
I am preserving the contents below as additional evidence.
---
I WENT NORTH TODAY.
BAD DECISION.
EXCELLENT DECISION.
I GOT LOST IMMEDIATELY.
The northern side of the island is FULL of giant forests and strange mist and at least three species of birds that scream like broken machinery.
I followed one weird glowing insect because I thought it might be artificial.
It was not artificial.
It bit me.
Anyway.
IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.
THE TREES HERE CAN STAND UP.
NOT FIGURATIVELY.
ACTUALLY.
STAND.
UP.
I was walking near one particularly massive tree (beautiful bark structure by the way, incredible root distribution, honestly very aerodynamic for something that does not move) when the entire thing suddenly OPENED ITS EYES.
We stared at each other for approximately eleven extremely educational seconds.
Then it stood up.
THE TREE STOOD UP.
ROOTS.
ROOTS OFF THE GROUND.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE IMPLICATIONS.
I thought I was witnessing some kind of Hephaestian woodland automaton.
Naturally I approached it scientifically.
Which means I poked it.
Then knocked on it.
THEN CHECKED IF THE WOOD GRAIN WAS REAL.
IT WAS REAL.
The tree became offended.
APPARENTLY ENT SOCIETY HAS “PERSONAL SPACE.”
Ridiculous concept for something approximately the size of a harbor building.
His name is Master Root.
MASTER ROOT.
Which sounds less like a person and more like an ancient siege weapon.
He explained that he is an Ent.
ENTS ARE REAL.
THE ISLAND HAS TALKING TREES.
THE TREES HAVE OPINIONS.
THEY ALSO JUDGE YOU SILENTLY.
Very slowly though.
Conversation with an Ent feels like waiting for continental drift to finish a sentence.
But honestly?
VERY NICE MAN.
He called me “small loud engineer.”
I think we are friends now.
I may build him a reinforced watering system later.
Or perhaps a hat.
Unsure which is more respectful culturally.
After that things became WORSE.
Or better.
Hard to classify scientifically.
I spotted Ryn and Reine near one of the lakes and attempted to approach them normally.
By “normally” I mean I immediately got distracted by glowing water.
THE LAKE WAS LUMINOUS.
Not artificial illumination either.
Not LED systems.
Not phosphorescent algae.
ACTUAL MOVING LIGHT INSIDE THE WATER.
Then three water women emerged from the lake like some kind of arcane thermal hallucination.
Undines.
UNDINES.
WATER PEOPLE.
Theoretically impossible.
Actually no.
Correction.
VERY possible apparently because they were RIGHT THERE.
One of them grabbed my hand and pulled me underwater before I could ask several extremely important survival-related questions.
GOOD NEWS:
I did not die.
BAD NEWS:
I now have approximately seventeen new engineering obsessions.
The underwater structures were BEAUTIFUL.
Not constructed.
GROWN.
Coral-like formations combined with flowing hydrodynamic architecture designed around natural current behavior instead of resisting it.
WHOEVER DESIGNED THEIR CITIES UNDERSTANDS FLUID MOTION LIKE A RELIGION.
I observed something VERY IMPORTANT while underwater.
The Undines manipulate tiny air bubbles around their bodies with finger movements.
Not magic exactly.
Or maybe magic.
This island has DESTROYED my ability to separate science from insanity.
Regardless.
I watched how water entered their gills and exited as reusable oxygen bubbles.
REUSABLE.
AIR.
They recycle breathing.
LIKE RESPONSIBLE FISH.
And suddenly my brain exploded.
Not physically.
Probably.
The realization was this:
Humans do not need to become fish.
WE JUST NEED TO BRING THE AIR WITH US.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS.
ARTIFICIAL SECOND SKIN.
PRESSURE REGULATION.
SEALED AIR SYSTEMS.
UNDERWATER EXPLORATION WITHOUT DROWNING.
Potential materials:
treated rubber
layered resin fabrics
reinforced glass front visor
compressed air chamber(?)
possibly copper valve systems
Possible problems:
pressure collapse
oxygen depletion
exploding lungs
horrifying fish accidents
Need discussion with black robe council immediately.
THE OCEAN IS BECOMING NEGOTIABLE.
Also.
Minor issue.
Two of my previous logs disappeared.
No idea where.
I refuse to believe I lost them because I specifically remember placing them somewhere “safe.”
Unfortunately my definition of “safe” may include:
engine rooms
active laboratories
unstable prototype piles
under pillows
inside bread boxes once apparently
I will secure this log more carefully.
Probably.
OH RIGHT.
IMPORTANT.
I am currently helping repair a teleportation machine.
YES.
A TELEPORTATION MACHINE.
Apparently most cargo transportation here is handled through something called quantum teleportation systems because the island sits directly above major leyline convergence zones.
Which honestly sounds fake.
But then again so do microwave ovens and those are REAL.
The explanation they gave me was approximately this:
Quantum teleportation transfers INFORMATION between entangled particles across vast distances instantaneously.
Which means the OBJECT itself does not travel.
Only the INFORMATION describing it.
WHICH SOMEHOW MAKES THE ENTIRE THING MORE TERRIFYING.
Apparently: Particle A and Particle B become linked.
When one changes state, the other immediately reflects the change regardless of distance.
I asked if this violates natural law.
The black robe council member laughed for six straight minutes.
I am beginning to suspect physicists are emotionally unstable people.
They lent me books on quantum physics.
QUANTUM PHYSICS.
Every page feels like being attacked by mathematics written by ghosts.
The more I read the less certain I become that chairs are real.
Interestingly the scholars here also admit they barely understand some of it.
THIS IS THE MOST COMFORTING THING ANYONE HAS EVER TOLD ME.
Apparently teleporting living humans is still impossible.
Too unstable.
Potential death probability extremely high.
Which is disappointing because I already volunteered.
Imagine it.
ONE BLINK.
ENTIRE CONTINENT.
No seasickness.
No pirates.
No terrible harbor soup.
Worth possible molecular destruction honestly.
Also I have been helping teach some of the children here.
THEY ARE TERRIFYINGLY INTELLIGENT.
One twelve-year-old corrected my rotational calculations yesterday.
Politely.
I nearly retired.
Oh.
And the black robe council invited me to participate in a game called “memorize pi.”
THEY ARE MONSTERS.
The loser drinks.
I lose constantly.
Current record:
3.141592653589793238462643383279
After that my brain turns into warm cheese.
How do they KEEP GOING.
One of them reached over ONE HUNDRED DIGITS while casually eating noodles.
I think Hephaestus accidentally created a civilization composed entirely of sleep-deprived supervillains.
Need further study.
Need sleep probably.
Need to find Reine and Ryn tomorrow before I accidentally discover another forbidden scientific nightmare.
Actually no.
Too late.
I already have three new ideas.
Potentially catastrophic.
---
For the first time in my life, I believe Ronan may actually be the smartest member of our family.
He told me not to come here.
Repeatedly.
He also once suggested I enroll in an academy specializing in document verification and fraud detection.
At the time I thought he was being dramatic.
Now I am beginning to suspect he possessed prophetic abilities.
Because this writing—
This chaos—
This horrifying combination of engineering brilliance, emotional instability, and complete disrespect toward reasonable fear—
Feels painfully authentic.
And that is the problem.
I no longer know whether I am investigating a prank…
Or slowly accepting evidence.
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