The sun dipped below the ocean line, painting everything gold. The island looked peaceful again, deceptively so. Hunters laughed, shared food, cleaned weapons.
But Lucen stayed awake long after the others turned in, sitting near the shore, eyes on the dark horizon.
The sea hummed faintly, and beneath that hum, the same pulse.
'So much for vacation,' he thought. 'Something's waking up.'
He tossed a small stone into the waves, watching the ripples spread.
'And I don't think it's friendly.'
—
The rain came without thunder. A soft drizzle at dawn, mist coiling around the training grounds and swallowing the horizon in gray. The sea was flat, unnaturally flat, the air heavy with salt and tension.
Lucen stood under the overhang outside the base, mug in hand again, watching droplets collect along the railing before they fell in slow rhythm.
