Chapter One

Eos tried to hold back the gasp trying to escape her, “Gone? Do you mean…?” Her voice trailed off into the dust of the store.

“I'm afraid so, lassy. I'm afraid so,” Weyln sighed. His sigh had weight - a certain weight like an anchor that could pull him right through the floorboards - Eos wasn’t sure what to do with that, "Seafoam. That's what be left of ‘em. Salt and speck. Green and sand. Nothin’ but seafoam. A damn shame. And a damn fool for it."

“Sea…foam?" Eos shook her head. Just what in the world was that supposed to mean?

“It be a long story, and it might not be something worth believin’. There be no proof of any of it happenin,’ afterall. You’d have to trust a poor fool’s word,” Weyln barked a laugh, “Sad to hear from a man who’s supposed to be the one with all the ‘information,’ ain’t it?"

Eos chuckled, "I have the time. And I think your shop does too,” her eyes were drawn to look around the antique store before finally resting on an old grandfather clock no longer in use. She couldn’t stop her lips from twisting into a small smirk, “And I’ll be the one to decide whether your info’s good or not. Sound good?"

Weyln likewise glances around the shop following her gaze – it was a shop collecting silence and dust between forgotten corners and forgotten treasures. Then, Weyln looks back at Eos with a faint glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Well, it doesn't look like anyone else is comin' round," Weyln says, taking one more puff of his pipe and gives a hearty cough as his hand signals past Eos' shoulder, "Fine, pull up a chair. This tales’ a long one – and don’t you worry about any price."

Eos nods and obliges, pulling a stool up to the counter. She quickly gets comfortable sitting in the old, creaky stool, watching Weyln stuff more tobacco into his pipe. She figured he was buying time trying to find the right words to begin with.

"Guess you could say I knew Rowan personally. Did I know him better than some? I really can’t say,” Weyln lit a match with a flick of his wrist. The comment sounded more like a passing scoff than an ordinary observation. Before Eos could ask any further, however, Welyn continued, “We didn't know each other very long, but we quickly became pals as one would considering the close quarters we worked in. I was only around sixteen or so when we met and I had just been hired to work on the Thisbe. Rowan and I were both crew members on her last voyage-"

"Her last voyage?" Eos interrupts.

The sharp glint in his eyes faded, and the color of his irises seemed to dim into pools of dark, dark water.

"The Thisbe…she went down in 1580 along with half the crew. Rowan, and I were both on board."