River witch
The Dead Light
The sky changed first.
Not a storm. Not dusk.
Just… wrong.
As they sailed away from the Cradle of Salt, a haze rolled in, yellow-gray and glowing faintly—not from the sun, but from something below the horizon. It lit the clouds from underneath, like the ocean had grown a second sky and decided it would burn instead of shine.
Jonas stood at the helm, sweat clinging to his brow despite the cold. “Why is the light coming up from the sea?”