Palaa gripped the sand, creating furrows in the pristine beach. His hands rejoiced at the feel of the grains between his fingers. This was land. The ship was three days gone, but here he lay, parched, alive. Alive! Struggling to his knees, Palaa rubbed the fog from his eyes to get a first look at his new home. The world came into focus slowly, but with great weight. As he knelt on the black beach his brain screamed for him to retreat into the waves, and find blissful succor in the lung-filling waves! This was wrong! This couldn’t be. The horizon slowly resolved from dark shadows to titanic jet columns rising from a near ridge. Each of the columns was carved by untold ages of wind and sea, staring back at him with the eyeless sockets of dead and ancient faces. Though he had never seen this coast before, Palaa knew this place and its awful reputation. This was the Pillared Coast of Emer and for the first time in his long career, Palaa feared he would never see his home again.