As the skyship soared through the morning sky, gaining altitude, the gray stain of fog that marked the boundary of the Mournlands diminished from view over the horizon. For many of the passengers on the ship, this marked one of many exotic vistas they would see as they traversed Khorvaire on whatever urgent errand or task that required sailing the sky. Some, seeing the Mournlands for the first time, could not help but stare in abject horror, knowing that they gazed upon the aftermath of a cataclysm. Others, numb to the shock after flying past more than once, muttered suspicions and conspiracy theories to one another. A small handful, having spent years exploring the mysteries of that pit of despair, breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that the airship carries them to something better. Perhaps they even allow themselves a glimmer of hope that they might be flying towards some answers.