The salty breeze carried the scent of the sea as John Vance stepped off the dock, his worn duffel slung over his shoulder. The Persephone would sail with the morning tide, and he saw no sense in wasting good coin on a hotel bed for a few short hours of sleep. The old house near the port, long abandoned and whispered about in fearful tones, suited him just fine.

He laughed at the dockhands’ warnings. “Ghosts?” he scoffed. “I’ve seen worse in the belly of a storm.”

The house was a rotting husk, its shutters rattling, its floorboards groaning under his boots. He tossed his bag onto the dust-laden mattress and stretched out, exhaustion from weeks at sea pulling him into restless slumber.

At first, it was the silence that disturbed him. Not the natural hush of night, but an oppressive, swallowing void. No wind. No creaking wood. No distant call of seabirds. Then, in the periphery of his vision, the shapes began to form.

Shifting. Watching.

Thin as mist, they moved with dreadful patience, drawing closer, yet making no sound. Vance tried to rise, to reach for the knife at his belt, but his body refused him. Panic surged as he realized he could not move. His breath was shallow, his limbs stone. He could only watch as the phantoms circled his bed, their hollow forms bending unnaturally, pressing in with weightless menace.

Their silence was the most terrifying thing of all.

One by one, they reached out—not with hands, but with tendrils of smoke, curling around him, whispering against his skin. And then, the fear melted. The paralysis that gripped him gave way to a new sensation—lightness. He was rising, his body dissolving into the air, joining them. The others welcomed him, their shapeless forms embracing his own.

There was nothing to fear. Nothing at all.

By morning, the dockhands came looking for him. The tide would not wait.

They found John Vance lying still upon the bed, eyes wide open, his face frozen in something like peace. His breath had stopped in the night, his body rigid and cold. The captain cursed and shook his head. “Damn fool should’ve paid for a room.”

But if they had looked closely, they might have seen the faintest wisp of smoke drift from his lips, dissolving into the morning light.