The air still crackled with the remnants of the storm. Though the raging winds had subsided, the echoes of battle lingered in the tension that gripped the crew.
The ship rocked gently against calmer waves, but the damage had been done.
Rian stood at the helm, hands gripping the wood as he scanned the horizon. He knew better than to think Dar would simply let this go.
The Iron Fangs had found them too easily. Someone had betrayed them.
Behind him, the crew murmured amongst themselves, licking their wounds—some literally, as Kalei and Yara worked through the injured.
Others sat with grim expressions, turning over the battle in their heads. The ship bore fresh scars, and so did they.
Val stood apart from the group, arms crossed as he stared out at the sea. His hands still tingled, remnants of power flickering beneath his skin.
