Huddled in the lifeboat with five survivors, Thorne grabbed an oar. The Cultist ship was turning, its lanterns glowing like the eyes of a predator, searching for survivors in the dark. "What now, Captain?" Kael whispered, shivering.

"We aren't winning this fight today, Kael. But we aren't dying today either."

The hull of the Resilient groaned, a low, metallic death rattle that vibrated through the soles of Captain Elias Thorne’s boots. Around him, the world was a chaotic blur of salt spray, black smoke, and the emerald glow of Kraken ink.

"Now," Thorne said, dipping the oar into the black waves, "we find a new deck. And then we hunt."