The ocean that morning was unnaturally still, as if the entire world held its breath in reverence. The surface stretched out like a sheet of glass, reflecting the pale silver of the rising sun in dreamlike ripples. Even the seabirds were momentarily silent, their wings gliding in wide arcs above the masts, sensing the strange calm.
Captain Poo Albiet stood tall at the bow of the lead ship, his silhouette outlined by the morning light. His long coat fluttered gently in the whispering breeze, the collar turned up against the chill of salt air. With arms folded behind his back and boots planted firm on the creaking wood, he exuded both command and quiet contemplation. His eyes, narrowed against the light, scanned the endless horizon with a seasoned mariner's focus, as if he could read the secrets written on the sea.
