The storm crept into Clearwater Bay without warning, black clouds rolling in like soldiers on a march. By dusk, the waves battered the old pier where the Aurora Bell strained against its moorings. The ship groaned like a wounded beast, its rusted hull trembling with every swell of the tide.
Harper Lane stood on Deck 5, lantern clutched tightly in her hand, staring at the words that had been scratched into the steel of Hold 7 only a night before: WE ARE COMING.
The phrase replayed in her mind like a curse. It wasn’t just graffiti—it was a threat. Someone else knew about the vault hidden deep in the belly of the ship, the vault filled with priceless art, stolen relics, and history that powerful people had tried to erase.
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