September, 15XX. Western Sea

Christopher ordered us ashore in the Swamps, among ancient burial grounds, to meet with the priestess. I don’t care that she serves the local demons. Witch or devil herself—if this woman can help us deal with Jones and his army of risen dead, I’m willing to strike a bargain.

Early October

We lost five today, Esteban among them. At night the drowned crawled out of the water, climbed the hull, and killed the sentries. How are we to press on without a navigator…

Mid-October, 15XX

Jaime mutinied. He made a pact with Jones behind our backs—sold his hide for a promise of immortality. Fool. I sent him to the other world with a shot through the heart. He rose again, and I had to cut his throat to lay him down for good.

The dead keep attacking, but we must see this mission through.

November, 15XX

At last, we found the priestess. I don’t know how Risto even stumbled upon her, but that rogue has always had luck on his side. K’iin spoke little Spanish, but she understood why we’d come. She gave us medallions, saying they would protect us once. I’d have preferred solid armor and a reliable blade.

A strange woman. She looks young, yet death lurks in her eyes.

The dead have come for our souls again. Let’s see if those fancy medallions really work.