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Weekly Contest #324
The sea was calm that morning, but the calm felt deceptive — like a beast drawing breath before the storm. Admiral Edmund Holt stood alone on the weathered promenade of Isla Neritha, one of Abyssara’s northernmost bastions — a speck of volcanic rock and coral in the great blue expanse between Java and Timor. Around him, the morning air shimmered with humidity, the scent of salt and machine-oil mingling in the wind as distant turbines hummed from the subterranean docks below. The horizon glowed with a molten light where the sun began its cli...
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