The docks at night were a different world entirely. By day, they were a chaotic sprawl of merchants, sailors, and dockhands shouting over one another, the air thick with the scent of fish, salt, and tar. But now—under the pale gleam of the moon—everything was quieter, slower, and far more dangerous. The water lapped against the barnacle-covered piers, carrying the soft groan of wood and the occasional cry of a gull.
Serah and her team moved like wraiths along the edge of the pier, the wooden planks creaking faintly under their boots. The bait had been set earlier after their little meeting—a shipment disguised as high-value contraband, rigged with subtle tracking enchantments and a hidden failsafe that would alert them if it was moved. Now, they waited for the ones bold or desperate enough to take it.
