The twelfth day of sailing arrived not with the roar of cannons or the howl of the wind, but with a calm breeze and a golden sun rising over the horizon. The silhouette of land had first appeared as a faint, jagged shadow against the sky, but as the Sea Phantom glided steadily forward, the shadow grew, revealing cliffs and palm trees and the distant sprawl of a bustling harbor town.
"Land! Land ahead!" came the cry from the crow's nest, and with it, a wave of cheers erupted across the deck.
Liam leaned over the railing, squinting toward the shore. "Finally," he muttered with a tired grin, the salty wind brushing back his hair. "I was starting to forget what solid ground looked like."
"Forget solid ground," Marcus groaned as he stood up from where he'd been lying, pale and queasy. "I just want to stop waking up to the smell of fish and vomit."
Jason chuckled as he shouldered his bag. "And you said you were built for sea life."
