Gradually, the wind began to die down. The heavy gray clouds drifted westward, revealing a star-filled sky. Soon, a ribbon of red appeared on the horizon as the waves calmed and began to sparkle with golden light.
Dawn had broken.
Dantès stood motionless, overwhelmed by the beauty of the sunrise. After fourteen years in a windowless prison cell, he'd almost forgotten that such magnificent sights existed. He turned toward the fortress that had been his hell for so long. It rose from the ocean like a monument to human cruelty, as imposing and terrible as ever.
It was about five in the morning. The sea was growing calmer by the minute.
