Captain Edran took a steadying breath, his fingers flexing as if trying to shake off the ghostly touch of the past. His words had been measured, but the weight of them filled the chamber like an oppressive fog. The surviving knights and adventurers stood in solemn silence, their faces drawn, their bodies stiff with the remnants of battle.
Edran exhaled, his gaze darkening. "It happened all at once."
The Duke leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable, though his eyes remained sharp. "Explain."
Edran nodded grimly. "The Iron Drake was the first to go. One moment, it was ahead of us, holding formation, its crew fighting the lesser sea beasts as planned. Then—" he snapped his fingers, the sound cutting through the tense silence like a blade, "—gone."
A chill ran through the room. No embellishment. No hesitation. Just the sheer, brutal truth.
"The ship didn't sink," Eryndor added, his voice quiet but firm. "It was taken."
