As he stepped into the cold night, the sound of the waves rose faintly behind him, steady as breath. Somewhere in the darkness beyond the docks, the chain waited and he knew he’d be back by morning.
Morning came gray and slow, the kind of dawn that made the sea look like tin. Elias moved with quiet purpose along the dock, his breath ghosting in the cold air. He loaded his gear onto the boat: oxygen tanks, mask, flippers, a waterproof lamp, and a small sonar unit that still smelled faintly of oil.