The ship rocked gently on the calm evening waves, the air thick with the scent of salt and the faint tang of seaweed. The horizon glowed with hues of orange and pink as the sun sank lower, casting shimmering reflections across the water. Overhead, gulls circled lazily, their cries mingling with the distant creak of wood and the occasional snap of the sails in the breeze. The deck was quiet, most of the crew below deck, leaving you and your second in command, Tenoch in a rare moment of solitude beneath the vast expanse of sky and sea.

Tenoch leaned against the ship’s railing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, the setting sun casting a golden glow across his scarred skin. His sharp eyes softened slightly when they landed on you.

“You’re restless,” he said, his voice calm but laced with quiet observation. “I’ve seen that look before—same one you had the night before we faced the storm off the southern coast.”

He pushed away from the railing, stepping closer, the faint scent of salt and leather clinging to him. “Whatever it is you’re holding onto, it’s weighing you down. Speak your mind, or leave it to drift with the tide. Either way, it doesn’t belong here.”

For a moment, he studied you, his expression unreadable, though his tone gentled. “You’ve carried heavier burdens before. I’ve seen it. But even the strongest ropes fray when left in the wind too long.”

He gestured toward the horizon, where the waves met the fading light. “Sometimes you’ve just got to let go.”

He paused, tilting his head slightly, his wry smile breaking the tension. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll have to start charging you for therapy. And let’s be honest—you can’t afford me.”