The world became a nightmare of wind and water. The sea was a churning, violent monster, tossing the Sea Serpent about like a child's toy. The wind was a shrieking, relentless force, tearing at the sails, whipping the rain into a stinging, horizontal assault.
Emily clung to the mast, her knuckles white, her body drenched and shivering. The deck was a treacherous, slick incline, and every violent lurch of the ship sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing through her. She had to close her eyes, focusing on the rough, splintery wood of the mast, the only solid point in a world that had dissolved into chaos.
Caelan was a madman. He was still at the helm, a wild, reckless figure silhouetted against the churning, black sea. He was laughing, a sound that was swallowed by the shriek of the wind, a manic, joyous sound that was more terrifying than any scream. He was in his element, a pirate king on his sinking ship, embracing the storm with a feral delight.
