The docks of Thunderhead Isle rose like jagged teeth from the sea, their black stone piers slick with salt and shadow.
Thunder cracked faintly overhead, distant but constant—like a storm forever trapped beyond the horizon. As the Azure Wind slid into port, the tension on board remained palpable.
Tian Shen stepped onto the damp stone, his boots meeting solid ground for the first time in days.
Little Mei darted ahead, sniffing curiously at the air, ears twitching. Feng Yin followed, her eyes wary, a fresh talisman already primed in her sleeve.
Above them, ancient cliffs loomed—webbed with narrow paths and strange overgrowth.
Black trees twisted toward the sky, their leaves glimmering with faint bioluminescence. Thunderhead Isle was no ordinary landmass. It was a relic of the old world, a place steeped in rumors and forgotten power.
Captain Luo disembarked behind them, exchanging hurried words with the harbor master.
