Nathan lay upon the cushioned bed within one of the more luxurious private cabins aboard a Roman Imperial warship, the gentle groaning of the hull and the constant sway of the ship reminding him that the sea was never still. Though the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves made true rest elusive, Nathan had grown accustomed to simply closing his eyes and surrendering to a state of light slumber, his thoughts drifting somewhere between sleep and waking.
The room was dimly lit, the only illumination filtering through the small circular window carved into the thick wooden wall—a dull glow of pre-dawn light reflecting off the endless sea. Despite the occasional creak of timber and the distant call of sailors above deck, the room held a rare sense of stillness. A stillness Nathan had learned to appreciate.
Nestled closely beside him, her body entangled with his under the woven sheets, was Scylla.
