Hours passed. Elena drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, haunted by dreams of black sails and golden skeletons. In her dreams, Kai wasn't a pirate, but a shadow that kept pulling her deeper into a dark forest, promising her the world if only she would stop running.
She woke with a start when the light through the porthole shifted from a deep indigo to a bruised, hazy purple. The ship felt different—the vibrations had changed. They were slowing down.
She scrambled to the window, pressing her face against the cool glass. In the distance, rising out of the mist like a jagged tooth, was an island. It wasn't the lush, green paradise of the southern maps. It was a place of gray stone, sharp cliffs, and crashing white surf.
