[ Old World – The Shoreline…Near the dock ]
The sea should have smelled of salt.
Of foam and wind and freshness.
But the closer Jasper drew, the more his little nose wrinkled, the more his chest squeezed as the air pressed rotten and foul.
At first it was faint, just a sting at the back of his throat, like biting into fruit gone bad.
But then it swelled…it became thicker and sharper, until he gagged and almost lost his breath mid-flight.
"Ew… no, no, no…this is bad…very very bad indeed, " he whimpered, cupping a hand over his mouth so he could hold the stench away. "The sea isn't supposed to smell like this. Mama said… Mama said it was salty and even a little sweet…like a big bowl of fresh air."
But it didn't smell anything like that at all.
It smelled like graves cracked open.
The horizon, once silver, began to shift.
Dark threads rippled through the waves, slow at first, like ink spilling into water. Then thicker, black veins spread wide, staining the rolling surface.
