The Storm

We lost sight of the Santiago first. We fear it now lies on the bottom of the ocean, but we caught no sign of its lights in the great waves buffeting our ship. Whatever has become of it and the San Cristóbal, only God knows their fate – we are fighting for our own lives, and we may not last the night. Yet over the storm, I heard laughing from belowdecks. It was the Heretic, laughing – but at what, I do not know. He has led Isabella to this hell, and we were fools enough to join them. - F.