Night had settled fully over the ship.
The sea was calm, almost unnervingly so, its dark surface reflecting fractured lines of moonlight as the vessel cut through the water in steady silence. Above, the sky was clear—cold stars scattered like distant embers—but it was the horizon that drew the eye.
The Iskandar Peaks.
They rose in the distance like silent giants, their snow-covered ridges bathed in pale silver light. Jagged, immense, and utterly unmoved by time, they dominated the night without making a sound. The air here was sharper, cleaner—each breath biting just enough to remind the body it was far from safe waters.
Noel stood alone near the railing, cloak drawn closer around him as the cold pressed in. His forearms rested against the metal, eyes fixed on the mountains as the ship passed along the edge of their reach. There was something oppressive about them. Not hostile—but heavy. As if the land itself was watching.
