Tyler and his crew aboard the White Pearl finally broke free from the oppressive embrace of the Pink Smog—an eerie, ever-shifting array that had wrapped around them like a curse.
The moment the ship pierced through the final veil of mist, the world seemed to exhale.
Wind rushed past the sails once more, the waves beneath them came alive with rhythmic splashes, and the suffocating silence that had clung to their ship vanished as if it had never existed.
The crew let out collective breaths of relief. Then, almost magically, a new sound emerged—faint at first, like a distant music box. The ambient notes, cheerful and whimsical, floated on the breeze and seemed to beckon them forward.
Before them unfolded a sight so surreal it made the entire crew lean over the railing in awe.
