That night the sky fractured. Lightning without thunder raked the heavens in fractal veins. Winds howled from unseen directions; the Vigil's Wake shuddered as if caught in some cosmic gale.
"Secure the lines!" Halgrave roared. But ropes snapped and blocks flew like missiles. Colian wrapped himself in canvas and was thrown across the deck, slamming into the rail.
Through the chaos he glimpsed the white shape circling below, illuminated by the ghostly flashes. It moved with terrible grace, weaving through the storm-swollen waves.
Old Arthur crawled to Cilian's side, his good eye reflecting the strobe of lightning. "It's drawing power from the storm," he shouted. "Every bolt, every gust—it feeds on fury!"
Cilian struggled upright. He saw Reyes's lifeless body entangled in rigging, his face frozen in terror. A sudden flash lit the deck so brilliantly Cilian saw every etched line on the wounded sailor's skin.
Captain Halgrave was already there, dragging Reyes free. He laid the body gently by the rail, touched the talisman at his chest, and whispered, "Rest now, sailor. Your burden's ended."
He turned to Cilian. "We must face it in the eye of the storm."