The cannons had stopped.

Not because the British were out of powder.

Because the fog had swallowed everything.

Sebas stood at the bow, hand resting on the railing.

“Listen,” he said.

“What?” Rufo whispered.

“That’s the problem. Nothing.”

No waves.

No wind.

No birds.

The sea was holding its breath.

Then—

The hull creaked.

Not like wood.

Like something alive.

The Black Wood did not drift.

It resisted.

As if the ocean itself had tried to pull her down before…

…and failed.

“Captain,” Sebas murmured.

“She doesn’t want to sink.”

Behind them, Caonex smiled faintly.

“Good,” he said.

“Neither do we.”

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