"The sea doesn't whisper warnings, it screams through the bones of those too late to listen. "
The moment my boots met the wet sands of the Fae coast, I knew something was wrong. The sea did not sing here. It hissed, and Tharion walked slightly ahead of me, silent but alert. His steps were heavy, deliberate, his posture coiled like a predator ready to strike. I let my gaze roam across the shoreline, once crystalline, now marred by decay.
The scent of brine was overpowered by rot. Dead fish littered the shore, eyes glazed, bellies bloated. A seal pup lay tangled in seaweed, mouth agape, as if screaming for a mercy it never received. Even the crabs, creatures of endless survival, had begun to turn belly-up.
Tharion's voice cut through the silence. "This isn't natural."
"No," I murmured, crouching beside the carcass of a gull. "It's not."
