The journey to the Elven Continent was halfway through. Days had passed since they escaped the Curse of the Sea, and the fog was now far behind them. Clear skies and deep, endless waters stretched across the horizon.
The ship cut smoothly through the ocean, powered by spiritual arrays and steady hands. The guards were relaxed, chatting quietly as they carried out their duties. Even Sylvheriel, who usually kept to herself, had taken to standing at the front of the deck, eyes closed, enjoying the breeze.
But peace was not made to last.
It started with the waves—gentle at first, then suddenly rough.
The sea churned. The sky dimmed. A shadow darker than night began to rise from the deep.
The ship rocked violently.
"What is going on?"
"Why did it turn dark all of a sudden?"
"Yeah, the day had barely started; how could it be dark?"
