The humidity on the coast of Blackwood Bay didn't just sit on your skin; it felt like a physical weight, a damp shroud that smelled of salt and secrets. Elias Thorne stood on the edge of the jagged cliffs, watching the tide roll in. But the Atlantic wasn't behaving.
Elias scrambled back, his boots slipping on the wet stone. He watched as Silas was hit first. The old man didn't fall. He was simply swept upward, his body suspended in the "wave" of air, drifting toward the clouds as if he were drowning in the sky. Air of Wave - Suspense
Elias spun around. It was Silas, a man whose face looked like a map of every storm he鈥檇 survived. He was pointing a trembling finger at the horizon. "Look at the birds, boy." The humidity on the coast of Blackwood Bay