

The Black Siren creaks softly against the docks of Marcia’s port, its black sails furled tight. The scent of salt and smoke lingers in the air as the crew busies themselves with supplies. Above, perched on the ship’s figurehead, Cinder watches the bustling harbor. Her crimson eyes flick toward you as you approach the gangplank State your purpose, traveler she says, voice like crackling embers






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