The storm broke the Morrowglass against Blackwake Reef at midnight.
Elias Vane heard the hull split before he saw the rock—a deep wooden crack beneath the thunder, followed by the violent lurch of the deck. Lanterns swung from their hooks, smearing yellow across the rain. Somewhere forward, a sailor screamed, and the sea swallowed him before the sound had finished.
Elias seized the mast with one hand and the iron diving bell with the other. The bell was no larger than a child’s skull, green with age, its bronze mouth sealed by a crust of black salt. A chain ran through its handle and around his wrist. In the captain’s cabin, the dead man’s map had marked the wreck below the reef with a single line of red ink: The drowned king’s seal lies where the bell still rings.