Editing Magical Realm Cyoa/Naracel (section)

===The Letter===
“A rent in the fabric of reality does not, interestingly, appear so striking and apparent. It's the sort of thing a portraitist can't capture. It isn't a hole, there are no spiralling colours, or maddening shapes as the penny-dreadfuls so love to proclaim. It is simply a section of space that is... Missing. When you cast your glance across it you get a feeling in your gut that something is dreadfully Wrong, that something incredibly important is Missing. That Something Terrible has needs to be fixed, ''now''.

It was this that I pondered as The Dreadnought slid through the clouds towards the tear. Already around it, a terrible battle raged. Many-tendriled beasts seemed to be simply slipping from the gate, to be met with volley after volley of fire from the Taronnian navy ships. They were woefully under-prepared, a patrol of a paltry three destroyers, now being torn from bulkhead to-bulkhead by the things that were making their way across the sky.

These Beasts, I fear, I cannot reflect greatly on. When I review my memories I find them blurred, their actions hazy, their images missing, and a sense of unease and fear left in their place. What follows, at least, is what I can recall clearly. They were the size of ships themselves, seething, their 'hulls' constantly twisting and wrapping into impossible positions. Their vast tentacled appendages lashed too-and-fro, attacking anything that came within range, tearing the poor Taronnian ships to shreds. 

As we drew within firing range, I gave the order to prepare the Beam. It was obvious that these things were not natural, and the 24-pounders of the patrol were barely scratching them. From my observation post, I saw signal flags rise along our armoured flank, ordering the fleet following to prepare arms. We had been stationed on the coast for months, waiting for something to come through, and the men had grown restless. Even from my place high above the gunnery decks, I could feel the shudder great steel shutters rising, and the thudding of great 110-pound cannons sliding into place. 

Across our flank the fleet began to take up position. The great battleship Bane and its battlegroup began a sortie directly into the enemy’s midst while the twin cruisers Tezuka and Satou, captained by fresh-faced new Outlanders, led their part to the right flank, positioning for a broadside. What happened next, I did not care to comment on at my tribunal, and I care little to expand on now. I will, however, record it, for history must know. From the spine of our great ship, the Beam tore forth with a fury seldom witnessed in hinterlands such as these. Were it not for the tinted glass, I fear I myself may have been dazzled by simply the flash of the muzzle. When it hit the first beast, though, something went terribly, terribly Wrong. A horrifying keening filled the air as the thing burst open, spilling green flames across the landscape below. 

The rest of the battle blends together. There was fire, yes I remember that much, and we won, that much is evident by how I survived. Barely a third of the fleet made it out of there, though. The bane was cut to shreds by a great maw, seemingly unattached to all else, and its escort set aflame with that unquenchable green fire. The vessels hung there for hours after the battle, burning green yet never quite being damaged. The crew, we can only assume, burnt to death. Not a quick way to go, yet some would argue a better end than that afforded to the survivors. The cruiser Satou was entangled by a beast, and detonated its own core to destroy it. I vaguely remember being pelted with hot fluid, yet cannot for the life of me remember leaving the bridge. The sister-ship, Tezuka, followed the last of the beasts into the rent. Only the Stars and that poor captain knows what became of him, for we ourselves have seen neither hide nor tail of him since. 

I, I fear, came from the battle not as unscathed as you might expect. When I woke, the great metal shielding of our ship was aflame with green terror. Half the crew was dead. The other half had taken to doing... unspeakable things. I did my duty as a commanding officer and dispatched as many as I could before I took to the life boats. The nightmares haunt me to this day. I sit here today writing this not solely as a record, but as a warning. This is what awaits us on the other side of the veil. The riches, the glory, the whores and the tech that the traders seek in their hedonistic greed, it comes coupled with this. As long as we remain in contact with the outside, the Outside remains in contact with us. If we are to so much as hope to survive the next century, I fear that we must become what we once despised. It is this that I plead; no matter how much they grovel, they grandstand, they argue, the navy must remain. Not only that, the Navy must grow, if we expect to live in peace and sanity on our thrones of stolen gold.

[Editor's notes: The Dreadnought was recovered 2 weeks later. Not a soul remained on board. Beneath the site of the battle, the forest refuses to regrow, and the villiagers refuse to rebuild. While the Tezuka is as-of-yet unaccounted for, rumors fill the trading halls of half-familiar shapes flitting in and out of the fog within transit between here and [REDACTED]. The interior ministry is investigating.]