The longer they remained in Port Ormos, the more restless Elias became. The port town was bustling during the day, but at night, the streets emptied, the lanterns flickering against the ocean breeze.
There was no sign of the supposed "great storm" that had grounded all ships. The sky was clear, the air was still, and the sea was as calm as ever.
Elias sat by the window of his rented room at the inn, watching the quiet docks below. He tapped his fingers on the wooden table, feeling unease coil in his stomach.
"There is no storm," he muttered under his breath.
The system had not warned him of any imminent danger, nor had he seen any natural signs of an approaching tempest. Yet, every sailor and port authority swore that no ship could leave for days.
It didn't make sense.
Frustrated, Elias stood and grabbed his cloak. If no one else was going to find answers, then he would.