Chapter 35: Voyager's Peace and a Very Chaotic Invisible Dragon
The stout wooden noble cog cut through the straits, oars dipping in steady rhythm, sail billowing overhead. No frills, no luxury — just heavy oak, iron bindings, and carved ravens along the stern: a proper lord's vessel for the age.
Hannah leaned against the rail, eyes half-lidded, salt wind in her hair.
Peace.
Genuine, unforced peace.
No shouting. No locked doors. No Bennington knights. No cultists. No knives in the dark.
Just the creak of wood, the crash of waves, and the quiet weight of not being hunted for once.
A soft, nearly silent nip at her boot.
"Bored."
Hannah's lips twitched. "Ren. Behave."
"The water moves funny. I don't like it."
"Then sit still."
"No."
Before she could react, the invisible dragon zipped away, zooming along the gunwale like a cat chasing a fly. He swayed with the ship's roll, stumbled, caught himself, then started batting at the foam as if it personally offended him.
