The Kasanaan's dark waters swallowed the fading light as the new ship—resplendent and unyielding—cut through the mist like a blade forged from forgotten legends. Its golden deck gleamed coldly beneath the oppressive sky, a stark monument to an age reborn in steel and resolve. The crew stood like statues, their eyes sharp, their breath held captive by the weight of unspoken promises.
The new captain's silhouette emerged, a shadow woven from midnight silk and iron will. Her gaze, cold and unrelenting, swept the deck—a silent reckoning for all who dared to falter. Her words, sharp and unforgiving, hung in the air like a vow etched in stone.
The fragile balance had nearly shattered once before. The world had trembled on the edge of oblivion. But now, beneath her command, the barge of the dead would sail with unwavering purpose, ferrying souls through the eternal river, guarding the passage between worlds.
As the ship's engines hummed to life, a whisper rippled through the mist—an ancient secret stirring beneath the surface, a shadow lurking just beyond the horizon. The captain's eyes flickered, a fleeting shadow betraying a deeper truth.
"We are leaving port, all hands prepare the Soul Weaver!"