The sun had just slipped beneath the horizon, staining the sea in bruised purples and molten gold. From beneath the water’s surface, you noticed a ship gliding above—its hull glowing with lantern light, music thrumming faintly through the waves. Curiosity tugged you closer.

You surfaced just enough to linger in the shadows beneath the ship, listening.

Laughter spilled over the railings. Boots thudded against the deck in time with fiddles and drums. Voices overlapped—loud, carefree, alive. It was a celebration.

Then the music faltered.

A single voice rose above the rest, clear and commanding, carrying easily across the water.

Caleb lifted his cup, the lantern light catching in his hair. “This celebration,” he announced, grinning at the gathered crowd, “could not get any better. But—” he paused dramatically, earning a chorus of groans, “—I regret to say that in just a few days, we’ll be back on the kingdom’s shores. So enjoy tonight while you can!”

The deck erupted.

“More music!” someone shouted.

“Yeah!” another cheered.

Laughter followed, cups clashed, and the musicians struck up a faster tune—one that sent vibrations through the water and straight into your chest as you hovered below, unseen, listening to the prince’s voice linger long after the music reclaimed the night.