The small boat cut smoothly through the dark, heavy water, carrying Nathan and his team away from the Deep Fleet's iron fortress.
The sun was setting—or at least, the sky was changing color. In the Shattered Throne, there was no real sun, just a pale light that slowly faded into a dark, bruised purple. The sea around them was perfectly calm, almost too still. The water lapped quietly against the wooden hull, but Nathan couldn't shake the creeping, icy feeling that something massive was watching them from deep below the surface.
Captain Rhea stood at the steering wheel, acting as their temporary guide. Her bright sea-green hair whipped wildly in the cold wind. She stared straight ahead, her face completely blank.
