That evening, the three of them sat outside Elias’s shack overlooking the sea. Steam rose from their bowls of stew, carrying the smell of fish and onions through the salt air. Edwin’s father spoke first, his voice soft but steady.
“It wasn’t treasure,” he said. “It was part of an old naval blockade. Those chains were laid across bays during the wars to stop enemy ships from entering. Must’ve been left behind, buried until the tides uncovered it again.” Elias stared toward the horizon where the water glimmered faintly in the moonlight.