Alex stood at the edge of the ship, the cool sea breeze tousling her dark hair. Her keen eyes scanned the horizon through the spyglass, searching for any signs of trouble. The ship, a formidable vessel known as the Serpent's Fang, was a blend of cutting-edge technology and ancient design—a testament to the strange, intertwined history of her world.
Her attention was drawn to a cluster of shadowy figures darting through the air—phantoms, as the crew called them. They glided with an eerie grace, their translucent forms shimmering against the twilight sky. Alex tightened her grip on the spyglass. The phantoms were not alone; they carried something—or someone—with them.
"Steve!" Alex called, hurrying down the deck. She found him in the ship's command center, poring over a map with a furrowed brow.
"What's wrong?" Steve asked, his voice laced with concern as he followed her gaze.
"Phantoms," Alex replied, her voice steady despite the growing unease. "They're carrying an assassin."
Steve's face grew pale, a look of recognition—and fear—crossing his features. "An assassin? Not just any assassin. I know him. He's—"
"Who?" Alex pressed.
"An old ally turned adversary," Steve interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We had... an incident. One that still haunts me."
Before Alex could ask more, Steve had already grabbed his sword. "We need to go outside. Now."