The Crimson Tide cut through the misty waters like a silent predator, its blood-red sails unfurling against the dim morning light. The salty wind carried whispers of an approaching storm, and the sky above was a tapestry of gray and crimson as the sun struggled against the ever-present gloom of the Fog Sea.
Captain Selene Blackthorne stood at the prow, her silver hair billowing like a ghostly banner. Her sharp eyes traced the horizon, searching for movement beyond the shifting fog. The taste of salt and iron lingered on her lips, a reminder of the battle from the night before. The memory of blood staining the deck was still fresh, but there was no time for sentiment.
"Captain!" a voice called behind her. It was Orin Vale, her quartermaster and most trusted confidant. The scar running down his cheek only added to his hardened demeanor, but his loyalty was unquestionable.
"What is it, Orin?" she asked, turning with a measured grace.
"We found something in the wreckage," Orin said, his voice hushed. "A survivor."
Selene's eyes narrowed. Survivors were a rarity in the Fog Sea—most never resurfaced. If someone had lived through the onslaught, they were either blessed or cursed.
She followed Orin to the lower deck, where a group of her crew had gathered. In the center of the circle lay a man, half-drenched in blood and seawater. His dark hair clung to his face, and his breathing was ragged. A deep wound marred his side, though someone had tried to bind it with torn fabric.
Selene crouched beside him, pressing two fingers to his throat. He was alive, though barely.
His eyelids fluttered before his gaze met hers. The moment their eyes locked, something in his expression shifted—from pain to recognition.
"Blackthorne," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "You're real."
Selene stilled. The way he said her name was not with fear or reverence, but with knowing.
"You know me?" she asked, her tone even.
The man coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "You're the storm they've whispered about. The woman who defied the tides."
A slow, eerie smile curved Selene's lip. "And who are you, to know so much about me?"
"A warning," he said, his voice hoarse. "They're coming for you."
A cold chill ran down Selene's spine, but she didn't let it show. She had spent years building her legend, carving her name into the bones of the Fog Sea. Enemies were nothing new. But something in the man's gaze told her this was different.
Before she could press for more, his body gave out, his head lolling to the side. The crew murmured amongst themselves.
Orin frowned. "What do we do with him?"
Selene rose, brushing off her coat. "We keep him alive. He may be the key to what lies ahead."
She turned back toward the deck, her mind already spinning with possibilities. The past had a way of creeping into the present, and she had a feeling this stranger held a piece of it.
As she stepped onto the upper deck, the first crack of thunder echoed across the sky.
A storm was coming, indeed.