The ocean does not announce its traps, it simply rolls a thick wall of white blindness over the water and waits to see who is strong enough to find their way home.
The damp warmth of the public greenhouse offered a comforting escape from the sudden, chilling weather shifting outside on the coast. Sarah Vance stood near a long wooden tray of vibrant green seedlings, carefully packing fresh soil around their roots with steady, practiced movements. On the small shelf behind her, a basic battery powered shortwave radio hummed with a low background hiss, acting as her regular link to the daily rhythms of the harbor. The quiet atmosphere vanished instantly when the radio emitted a strange, hollow pop, followed by an absolute, heavy silence where a familiar voice should have been.
"Ethan, did y
