Betrayal at Dawn

The first blush of dawn painted the eastern sky in bruised purples and fiery oranges, a stark contrast to the somber mood aboard the *Sea Serpent*. Theron, his jaw tight, stared out at the churning grey waves, the salt spray stinging his face. He’d slept fitfully, the weight of his past a phantom hand on his chest. The whispers of his crew, usually a comforting murmur of shared purpose, had taken on an anxious edge in the preceding days. Something was wrong, a discord in the symphony of their lives at sea.

Liam, his first mate, a man whose loyalty had been as solid as the ship's timbers, approached him, his expression unreadable. "Captain," he began, his voice rough, "We have a problem."

Theron turned, his gaze sharp. "What kind of problem, Liam?"