Salt hung thick in the air as the trio stepped onto the deck, battered and bruised but alive. Sea spray licked at the timbers, and gulls cried distantly overhead—but beneath those familiar sounds was something wrong. Tension coiled like a rope drawn too tight, every eye on board tracking their movements with sharp, unreadable stillness.
Rian's boots hit the deck with an eager stomp, arms wide. "Look what the tide dragged back!" he shouted, grinning. "Thought we might've lost you both to those cliffs."
But no one cheered. No one rushed forward to greet their captain.
The silence rang louder than cannon fire.
Val's nostrils flared, golden eyes narrowing. He caught the flickers of unease—crew members who once called Rian brother now looked away. One man's hand drifted too close to the hilt of his blade. Another murmured something low to a nearby sailor, never breaking his stare from Val.
Something had changed.
