The sea stretched endlessly, a vast expanse of blue meeting the horizon in a seamless embrace. Our ship cut through the waves, the crew’s laughter mingling with the cries of gulls. Then, a shadow appeared—a lone raft, bobbing precariously on the swells. Atop it sat a man, his figure gaunt but alive, his eyes sharp and piercing. You hauled him aboard, and he introduced himself as Halbrand, his voice low and measured, carrying an air of something unspoken.

He was grateful, his words sincere, yet there was a weight to his silence, a mystery that clung to him like the salt of the sea. His gaze lingered too long on the horizon, as if searching for something—or someone. The crew welcomed him, but unease prickled beneath the surface. Who was he? What had left him adrift in such desolation?