He told himself it was just iron and salt, but the quiet that followed felt watchful, almost expectant. That night, at the harbor bar, the air was thick with talk. A storm of rumor and whiskey.
Elias caught fragments between clinks of glasses, the chain, the missing man, the sea taking what it wanted. The bartender, a heavyset man with arms like barrels, leaned closer when Elias asked about it. “Aye, everyone’s talking. The man who vanished, Edwin’s father. Poor boy’s been tearing himself up wanting to dive after him, but no one will let him.”