The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-22 22:40:48 -

The water was not water. It was a solid, black weight that pressed against my lungs like a funeral shroud. I kicked, my boots scraping against the rusted hull of the *Indomitable*, a ship that had sunk three days ago but now loomed in the airless dark of the trench where the sea had swallowed the sky. I was looking for the locket. Margaret’s silver locket, with the tiny portrait of her face...

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