Rumble

The winds howled against the deck, sharp and bitter as the salt spray that lashed across the wooden planks. The vast, endless sea stretched before them, dark and unyielding, rolling beneath the overcast sky like a beast breathing in its sleep.

Duke Duke Thaddeus stood at the bow of the ship, his cloak billowing in the restless wind. His eyes, sharp and relentless, bore into the horizon, but there was nothing.

No wreckage.

No remains.

No trace of the vortex that had swallowed his daughter whole.

Nothing.

A full week.

It had been nearly a full week since she was taken.

A week since he had given the order.

Since he had summoned scholars, mages, navigators—anyone who had ever dared to study the abyss. Since he had demanded answers. Since he had dragged his fleet out into these accursed waters in search of a sign, a clue, anything.