The ship's violent rocking intensified as the group ventured beyond the relative safety of Light Cay's territorial waters. Waves of unprecedented size, dwarfing anything Larissa and Vicente had encountered in their previous voyages, battered the vessel relentlessly. Each collision felt as if the ship was striking hidden reefs, the floor beneath them shuddering with each impact.
The tumultuous sea rendered standing impossible. Every passenger remained firmly seated, safety belts cinched tight around their bodies, a stark reminder of the perilous journey they had undertaken.
Amidst this nautical chaos, the Flaming Lion, reduced to his diminutive form, was lost in a haze of misery and nausea. Unlike the magicians and special beings capable of regulating their senses, the beast's attributes were intrinsically tied to his physical form. The heightened sensitivity that usually served as an asset now worked against him, amplifying every pitch and roll of the ship.
