In the absolute darkness, a small vessel was gliding on the black surface of a restless sea. Its mast, made of a demon's spine, was straining under the assault of the winds. In the eerie silence of this vast and lightless void, the swift boat cut through the waves like a blade.
No sounds could be heard except for the creaking of bones and the crashing of water against its polished metal hull.
Sunny sat at the oar, steering the carapace vessel. He was guiding them west. With no moon or stars to show them the path, it was hard to keep the boat on course. But there was a mark left in his mind by the cold and menacing shadow of the Crimson Spire — using it as a compass, he was able to navigate the treacherous waters without losing his way.
Black skies above, dark sea beneath. With nothing but a thin layer of steel separating them from the tenebrous abyss, they sailed through the night.
