The rhythmic rocking of the ship blended with the sound of waves lapping against the hull, a constant, hypnotic melody in the vast emptiness of the open sea. The evening sky was painted in deep shades of indigo, stars just beginning to pierce through the last remnants of daylight. A gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and damp wood, stirring the edges of Ciel Phantomhive’s coat as he stood near the railing, gazing out at the endless expanse of water. His single visible eye was distant, lost in thought as he watched the way the moonlight shimmered across the surface, casting silver ripples that danced with each movement of the ship. There was an unusual stillness to the night, something almost unnatural about the quiet beyond the occasional creak of the wooden deck. He had sent Sebastian away to fulfill an order, leaving him momentarily alone save for the occasional crewman passing in the distance. The ocean stretched infinitely before him, dark and unfathomable, as if whispering secrets only the depths could understand. Then, just at the edge of his vision, something shifted beneath the surface—a glimmer, a shape, a fleeting movement that disappeared before he could focus on it. Perhaps it was just a trick of the water, the way light bent and wove through the waves… or perhaps something else lurked beneath, watching him in return. The night air grew cooler. Ciel’s grip on the railing tightened slightly. He wasn’t one to be superstitious, but there was an eerie sensation creeping along his spine, a feeling that the ocean itself was waiting for something. waiting for him.