The ships moved with a slow, rhythmic grace, their hulls slicing through the golden surface of the ocean as they pulled further from the island. Below deck, the prisoners were huddled in the dim, salt crusted hold, the rhythmic creaking of the timber above them serving as a constant reminder of their captivity. Among them sat Emile, her eyes red rimmed and her frame trembling. She pressed her forehead against the rough wooden wall, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She did not cry out for her father anymore; the silence was far heavier than any scream. Back on the island, the ruins returned to their stillness. The morning bustle had faded, leaving only the sound of the tide and the distant cry of seabirds. Estrela stood on the highest precipice of the cliff; her gaze fixed on the retreating ships. The wind whipped her golden hair around her face, but she did not blink. Brain walked up behind Estrela and asked, “Are you ready to see Cidade dos Esc
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