The morning fog hung low over Port Java, softening the steel edges of the Bernardian installations. Between the gray silhouettes of cranes and reinforced watchtowers, the sound of gulls and the distant clang of metal drifted through the air like echoes from an older world.
Elina stood at the edge of the dock, her cloak pulled close, the hood drawn low over her face. But she was not hiding. She was observing.
The sea beyond was a deep obsidian, unnatural in its stillness—like a beast watching with one eye open. Massive ships floated silently along the piers, each one a monument to the future carved into the bones of the past. These were no ordinary vessels: they bore the signature of Bernardian design. Emblems of the Bernard Empire—the eagle framed by orbital rings—gleamed proudly on every steel flank.
