Chapter 37: Pirate Ambush & The Watcher in Zamorde
The sun hung high and golden as the noble cog cut toward the foreign continent's port.
The air smelled of distant land—soil, pine, wood smoke, and strange spices.
For the first time in a week, the sea lay calm, gentle swells rocking the ship like a cradle.
Hannah leaned against the rail, eyes half-lidded, enjoying the quiet. Beside her, Mimi twisted a strand of grass between her fingers.
Bart leaned against a mast, arms crossed, watching the horizon.
And Mike?
Mike was still green.
"I think I'm dying," he mumbled, slumped over a crate. "My stomach has given up. My soul has given up. The ocean hates me."
Bart snickered. "You're so dramatic. It's just water."
"Just water?" Mike repeated, voice cracking. "This water is trying to murder me from the inside."
Mimi giggled. "We'll be on land soon. You can lie down and stop being a baby."
"I'm not a baby—"
