Chapter 2 – The Lost Continent begins in the aftermath of chaos. The narrator, left stranded in the Atlantic, confronts the harsh reality of being deserted by the Coldwater. Command had passed to Alvarez under obscure circumstances, and now survival is uncertain. With a shrinking crew and limited knowledge of the region, their only hope lies eastward, toward the Scilly Islands and what was once the coast of England. Despite the ancient maps and outdated history books being their only guides, the narrator feels compelled by something more than just survival—it is a deep, human drive to explore the unknown and uncover what history has hidden or forgotten. This journey, though practical in nature, also becomes symbolic, as they sail not only to land but into a world long buried in mystery and time.

Their passage through the Atlantic unfolds slowly, with every nautical mile carrying them deeper into questions of what once was. Talk among the crew touches nervously on the old nations and lost continents—places now shrouded in myth, spoken of only in whispers. The fact that the narrator possesses documents banned under modern law hints at a tightly controlled society, one where knowledge of the old world is considered dangerous or heretical. These themes of restricted truth, cultural amnesia, and the audacity to reclaim forbidden understanding build the emotional backbone of their journey. Hope flares as they draw near to the English Channel, though none can be certain what they will find—if anything remains at all.

What greets them is not a bustling coast, but an eerie silence stretching across Plymouth Bay. There are no beacons, no ships, no signs of modern life. The silence feels unnatural, as though an entire country had been erased rather than merely abandoned. The narrator steps ashore expecting confrontation or at least human contact, but finds nothing beyond wind, waves, and crumbling remnants of a forgotten world. The absence of resistance or welcome brings a strange chill, forcing the crew to accept that whatever civilization once existed here has long since fallen. Nature has begun to reclaim everything.

Inland exploration leads to the shocking discovery of ruins, concealed beneath layers of moss and vine. What seems to be a battlefield lies in fragments—a corroded German helmet, the skeletal remains of a soldier, and a human skull marked by a single, fatal bullet hole. These artifacts offer no closure, only deeper questions about what happened to Europe. The battle’s proximity to English soil suggests that war reached farther than history books ever claimed, contradicting everything the narrator believed. It is evident that whatever cataclysm befell the old world, it was widespread, violent, and final.

The deeper they move into the heart of what once was England, the more profound the silence becomes. Towns have been reduced to crumbled stone. Fields are overgrown with wild flora. Roads that once carried travelers and trade are now trodden only by beasts. The eerie tranquility is broken only by the occasional relic: shattered window glass, rusted ironwork, or fragments of once-prized possessions left to decay. Each object, each ruin, whispers a story of human greatness undone not just by time, but likely by war, plague, or neglect.

The chapter closes with a rising sense of isolation. Though they had hoped to find shelter, help, or even the remnants of a functioning society, all they have uncovered is death and decay. The question now turns from where they are to when they are. Have centuries passed? Was England consumed in a forgotten war, buried by time and silence? The narrator, haunted by these unanswerable questions, resolves to continue their expedition deeper into the land, seeking not just survival but truth. This new world, untouched for generations, demands to be understood—not simply for knowledge, but for the future of those left who still remember the old one.