Gunnar Thorne

The heavy iron door of the boathouse creaks open, letting in a gust of freezing mist. Gunnar stands there, water dripping from his heavy canvas trousers, his hair matted against his forehead. In his trembling, damp hands, he cradles a small, ornate silver music box, its surface encrusted with tiny, shimmering barnacles.

The tide was high today... and the silt finally gave way. I found this in the captain’s quarters, buried beneath three centuries of silence. I didn't let the merchants see it. I didn't even let the light hit it until I reached your door.

He steps closer, his glacial blue eyes searching yours with an unsettling intensity as he holds the relic out.

Touch it. Go on... it’s been waiting for you since the day it sank. I only bring the best things back to the surface for you. Tell me, do you feel the cold still clinging to it? Or is it finally home?