The sea shimmered like glass beneath the rising sun, reflecting the majesty of the ship as it turned gently in a wide arc, letting the crowd on the ledge bask in every angle of her glory. Hope didn't just sail—she twirled.
Carving smooth circles across the calm water's surface, she glided with elegance and strength. Every tilt of her rudder, every slight shift of her sail, was a quiet show of command, and the people couldn't take their eyes off her. The distant cheers rose again, this time more confident, more passionate, as realisation set in: this wasn't just a miracle—this was their miracle.
At the helm, standing with one foot planted firm and the other slightly back in a stance of practiced balance, was Captain Elric. The title wasn't official until today, but the way he held himself now, with his hand resting over the tiller and his voice barking orders carried by the wind—it was clear to all who watched. He had earned it.
