The Sea Sprite was smaller than I expected.
An old merchant cog with salt-crusted rails and a crew that moved with the practiced rhythm of men who had made this crossing a hundred times. Captain Harlan was a thin man with a gray beard and eyes that had seen too much weather.
"You the new hand?" he asked.
"Transport security."
He grunted. "Stay out of the way. We'll be at sea for six days, weather permitting."
That was the last conversation I had that mattered.
The first day was fine. I found a spot near the bow where the spray didn't reach and watched Stormwind Harbor shrink to a smudge on the horizon. Then to nothing.
The second day, the sea got bigger.
I don't know how to describe it to someone who hasn't felt it. The Eastern Kingdoms have coasts. I'd seen the ocean before. But out here, with no land in any direction, the scale of it pressed down on me. The water was gray and endless. The sky was gray and endless. The ship was a speck.
The crew ignored me. That was fine. I spent most of the voyage leaning against the rail, watching the horizon, trying to shake the feeling that I had made a mistake.
Not about leaving Voss. That was the right call.
But about where I was going.
On the third night, I couldn't sleep. I came up to the deck and found one of the crew — a wiry man with a scar across his jaw — mending a net by lantern light.
"How many times have you made this crossing?" I asked.
He didn't look up. "Enough."
"What's Theramore like?"
He stopped mending. Looked at me. "You're not going to Theramore."
"The notice said — "
"The notice says whatever it needs to say." He went back to his net. "You'll find out when you get there."
I stood there for a long moment. Then I walked back to my hammock and stared at the ceiling until dawn.
The sea didn't care about my questions.
It just kept moving.