Time seemed to slow, if only for a second, before the shrieks upon and below the deck were cut short in a violent rupture. Black ichor sprayed everywhere, spattering timbers and men alike.
The ship soon fell into silence.
One by one, the crew lifted their heads, their hands falling from their ears as they surveyed their environment. Esme also raised her gaze, her breath catching at the ruin spread before her. Some half-forgotten dread stirred in her mind, and she turned sharply toward Donovan. He was already struggling to his feet, a blank look on his face, and without thought, she hurried to his side.
"Don…are you hurt?"
When she touched his arm, his body tensed momentarily as though roused from some grim reverie. When he met her worried gaze, he turned his head away too swiftly, the gesture sharp enough to stir Esme's unease. Something was off with him, and she was certain about it.
She wondered what he was busy thinking about that had shaken him to the core.
