The storm hit on the third day.
Gabriel woke to the ship pitching violently, his hammock swaying in wild arcs that nearly threw him to the floor. Around him, the others were already awake, bracing against whatever support they could find.
"Saints," Gilbert muttered, gripping a support beam. "How long has it been like this?"
"Since dawn," Ennu said from her corner. She looked pale but composed. "The crew's been working non-stop."
Another massive wave hit the ship broadside. The entire vessel shuddered, wood groaning under stress. Water poured through gaps in the deck above, running down walls and pooling on the floor.
Gabriel swung out of his hammock and nearly fell as the ship rolled hard to port. He caught himself against the wall and made his way to the door.
"Where are you going?" Tess demanded.
"To see if they need help."
"Torrhen said to stay below."
