PREVIEW
... ith the smell of dense salt. It lingered on my nose. Strands of black hair swooshed past these pair of hardened, yellow eyes that had witnessed more death in a week than most had seen in a lifetime. The boat we were on was owned by a man named Rickard, who jumped overboard when that lion roared at him. The city-state of Plymoise, Parthina, was his destination—something we discovered after finding charter documents hidden in a bedroll.
Dad and I laid on the deck after anchoring the boat f ...
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