Grace stared at a mountain of sea charts on her desk, running her fingers over the yellowed hemp paper. Under the flickering candlelight, the shipping routes marked in red-inked lines resembled dried blood.

When Dustin entered, he saw her sliding a thick collection of leather-bound ledgers into a rosewood case. Between the pages, words like "freshwater supplies" and "ration calculations" revealed her meticulous planning for their upcoming voyage.

"Any news from the fishermen?" he asked.

Grace glanced toward the window, where dusk was settling outside.

"Sadie just returned from the fishing harbor. She found an old fisherman named Jonah Quade. Three years ago, he spotted what looked like a mirage near Wailing Deep. He swore he saw grand palaces floating in the clouds and a stone marker engraved with the words 'Elysium Isle.'"

She paused, then drummed her fingers on the desk.

"But he said that the phenomenon only lasted half an hour. When he looked again, even the sea fog had clea