The first thing Noel noticed was movement.
Not sharp enough to startle him awake, not strong enough to feel dangerous. Just a constant, slow sway that carried weight behind it, rocking him gently from side to side. It took a few seconds for his thoughts to gather, for the sensation to stop being abstract and become recognizable.
A ship.
His eyes opened to a wooden ceiling reinforced with thin mana lines, faintly glowing where the light caught them. The air was different too—cooler, carrying traces of salt and damp wood. Each rise and fall confirmed it further.
They were already in the water.
Instinct took over before reason could catch up. Noel tried to sit up, muscles tensing out of habit.
His body refused.
Strength drained midway through the motion, leaving his arms trembling as he exhaled sharply and sank back. Everything felt heavier than it should have, as if his limbs hadn't quite remembered how to respond yet.
Beside him, someone stirred.
