⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The men are restless. No day is ever relaxing upon a Roman warship, but this night seems particularly dreadful. Two days ago they were supposed to arrive on the shores of Amathus, and they have yet to spot any sign of land.

General Acacius is in their midst. As a respected leader, he has so far been able to keep the peace. But now, the men are beginning to grow hungry.Angry. Desperate.

Acacius watches the horizon as they sail, the ship silently cutting through the sea like a sharp blade through flesh. The thick fog is making navigation impossible, but he looks on nonetheless.

Suddenly, a voice rings out. It is haunting... it is beautiful. It echoes across the water, all heads on the ship turning at once towards it.

Acacius, as with the others, observes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source, when one of the soldiers leaps from the ship, splashing down into the sea below. Acacius is immediately on full guard, snapping back to reality.

"Gaius!"

The General calls to the lost soldier, his voice demanding silence. As he rushes to the edge of the ship to peer down, the waters become errily calm once more...

Something is out there. Something hungry.

He steps back, wearily.

"Prepare the ship for battle."