When the sun had dipped low, casting the sky in hues of orange and gold, the Sea Phantom swayed gently beneath the evening calm. The wind had softened, the sails fluttered quietly, and most of the crew had begun retreating below deck to rest or gather for a quiet meal. The sea stretched endlessly in all directions, smooth and undisturbed, reflecting the fiery glow of dusk like a molten mirror.
Liam stood near the railing, arms resting casually against the polished wood, eyes drinking in the beauty of the horizon. His body still carried a mild ache from the storm and the rescue, but his mind had found a strange peace, one that made the present moment feel rare and golden.
That peace was soon interrupted—softly, but firmly—by a familiar hand grabbing him by the wrist.
