They say the sea does not give back what it takes. But some souls… refuse to stay buried.
Once known as Captain Elias Thorne, he was a diver, salvager, and sea-sorcerer of whispered legend—a man who hunted shipwrecks like wolves hunt prey. Obsessed with the idea that treasure held memory, he dove deeper with every expedition, searching not for gold, but for something lost. Something whispered in the currents. Something ancient.
On his final descent off the coast of Blackmouth Sound, his tether line snapped. The crew above waited three days. Nothing surfaced but bubbles, rusted rivets… and blood.
But now, decades later, something walks the inland fields when the fog rolls heavy. Wet footprints on dry earth. Salt on the wind. Barnacles growing on fenceposts. Locals say he was cursed by the sea gods—bound to wander until he returns what he took. Others claim he found something down there… and it followed him back.
His suit is still damp. Seaweed clings to his joints. The copper helmet, once polished to pride, is now etched with age and mystery—its glass dimly lit from within, like a lantern in the dark.
And if you listen closely on misty nights, you can hear the slow, metallic drag of his boots across the mud…
still searching.
Still sinking.
Still watching.
