Woah... it was huge.
The ship that was supposed to take us to Wallowtear loomed like a metal leviathan, its towering mast slicing into the clouds like it had no business obeying gravity. The rigging creaked gently in the salt-stained wind, the sails fluttering like restless wings. Gulls circled overhead, their cries cutting through the air like distant echoes of stories long buried in the deep.
My boots thudded against the dock, each step slower than the last as I took it all in—the sheer size of it, the quiet weight of something about to begin.
Behind me, Wanora trailed, arms folded tight, eyes downcast, lips pressed into that stubborn line she wore when she didn't feel like talking.
"Hey," I said, glancing back with a nudge. "Cheer up. Ever seen a ship that big?"
"Yea…" she mumbled groggily, not even bothering to lift her head. The edge in her voice was familiar. Exhaustion laced with silence.
Before I could say anything else, a shadow stepped into view from the dock's edge.
He was broad-shouldered, wrapped in a weather-beaten navy coat that flared with the wind. His steps had a kind of swagger that wasn't for show—he walked like someone who'd lost things to the sea and kept walking anyway. Salt-crusted boots, a tangled beard streaked with silver and copper, and eyes that gleamed with something between madness and mischief.
"Ahoy!" he called, his voice booming across the dock like a cannon blast. "Thanks for hiring us! Glad to be of service. We'll make sure to get you to Wallowtear safe and sound."
I squinted past the light, trying to read the truth in his grin. It was too bright. The kind of smile that either came from complete confidence—or complete delusion.
Behind him, the deck stretched out—silent. Unsettlingly so.
"We?" I asked, eyebrow raised. "Are there others with you?"
He laughed, the sound cracking like dry wood under pressure. "Yea, 'course! Get on the ship, little man."
Wanora burst out laughing. It was sharp, sudden—the first real laugh from her in days. "That's right, little man. Let's get on."
The man blinked, his smile faltering. "Huh? Did I say something offensive?"
I scratched my neck, feeling awkward. "No, she just has a dry sense of humor. Don't take it personally. I'm Heide, and that's Wanora."
He gripped my hand with a crushing shake. "Name's Kelvin. Kelvin the Kraken."
"…Kraken?" I echoed, walking beside him as we approached the ship's ramp. The wood beneath us groaned as if protesting our presence.
"Yeah," he said, clapping a fist to his chest. "I hunted a Kraken once. Damn thing got so scared, it ran away."
Wanora glanced at me. I looked back at her.
Neither of us believed a word of that.
Still, the closer we got to the ship, the more I started to notice the small things. Weather-worn crates. Barrels with claw marks. A rusted harpoon skewered through a splintered beam like a forgotten warning. The hull was carved with strange runes, faintly pulsing violet, as if the ship itself was breathing.
"Hey," Wanora said, eyes narrowing. "Where are your crewmates? The ship's empty."
Kelvin stopped. Dead still. "Huh? No way they left."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared below deck, stomping down the corridor like thunder wrapped in leather.
Wanora and I stood in silence. I leaned over the railing, watching the ocean sway. Something about this felt... wrong.
A minute passed. Then two.
He returned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You scared me there, missy. Everyone's still here."
Wanora tilted her head. "What?"
"Come on." He motioned us inside.
We followed him down. The inside of the ship was... shockingly clean. Tidy even. The scent of citrus oil clung to the air—too strong, like it was masking something. A net hung coiled in the corner. Trinkets lined the walls: a cracked compass, old coins, spyglasses bolted into place like relics of lives long gone.
Then I saw them.
Skulls.
Dozens of them. Polished white, carved with runes and names. They sat neatly along a shelf like honored guests at some twisted banquet.
Kelvin gestured to them proudly. "Lucas, Phoenix, and Raptor. My three buddies. They're quirky and rude, but loyal."
He turned to one of the skulls and leaned in, like he was listening. Then his face twisted, and he snapped, "Hey! No, it's a customer, you pervert."
Wanora froze.
So did I.
He was… talking to the skulls. Listening. Responding. Like they were whispering back.
Wanora leaned close, voice low. "I think he's lost it."
I couldn't disagree. The guy was clearly not all there.
But he had a ship. And a clean one, at that.
And maybe—just maybe—a bit of crazy was exactly what it took to survive whatever Wallowtear was going to throw at us.
The ship creaked like it was remembering something. The runes on the walls seemed to pulse just a little brighter. And the skulls—no, don't think about it—but it felt like they were watching.
Maybe I was just imagining it.
Or maybe this voyage was already cursed, and we hadn't even left the harbor yet.