The dock groaned beneath the weight of supplies as the small spirit ship swayed gently against the morning tide.
Pale mists curled around the pier like fingers reluctant to let them go, and the first rays of sunlight shimmered across the vast expanse of the Great Ocean.
It stretched endlessly before them—deep, unknowable, and whispering secrets in its slow, eternal voice.
Tian Shen adjusted the straps on his pack, gazing out at the horizon.
"So… we really are doing this."
Feng Yin stood beside him, dressed in traveling leathers with her hair braided tightly back, a fox-fur clasp holding her cloak in place—a small gift from Little Mei.
She didn't answer right away, only watching the mist part as their ship, The Pale Lark, hummed to life with gentle spiritual energy.
From behind them, Elder Su appeared with the quiet grace of falling snow.
"Try not to get seasick, pretty boy. Or at least not on the first day."
Tian Shen narrowed his eyes.
"I won't."
