The Wistful Voyage
The bilge water glows, a faint, rhythmic bioluminescence that pulses in time with the heavy, iron-throated cough of the engine below, and you, Elias Thorne, stand in the cramped, salt-slicked belly of the SS Aethelgard, watching the light seep through the grime of the intake valve with the desperate focus of a man who has forgotten how to breathe without counting the seconds until his...
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