Brined dark emerald water flowed over the buckled wooden planks as the crew struggled to ease the roped trawling net onto the ship’s deck. Dripping limp seaweed coiled at their feet among the gasping writhing fish. Meeting the deck with a solid soaked strike, it stood before them. Barnacles perched on the foot pedals, ocean spilling from the seams, pearl keys glinting in the starlight. No longer adrift upon the squall; sunken, hidden, legend. Behold – the Mer, the endless Mer.

At daybreak you must set sail to San Rafael.

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