Chapter 30

Syn's world swirled into a haze as the beer's bitter tide pulled him under, his head crashing against the table with a dull thud. Darkness swallowed him, the raucous cheers of the mess hall fading into a distant echo, and then—a flicker, a shift. Time unraveled, dragging him back, not to the pirate ship but to a memory buried deep, a dream stitched from the threads of his past. He was a child again, small and wiry, darting through a crowded alley in a place where hope was a scarce whisper.

The alley teemed with life—jobless souls slumped against grimy walls, their eyes hollow with despair; angry fists clenched tight, frustration simmering in shouts that bounced off the cramped buildings; intoxicated figures swaying, their laughter brittle and sharp; and the gaunt, meal-to-meal survivors, too scared to die yet too weary to truly live.