Chapter 9: The Ferry Against the Wind

At dawn the old man brought out a boat he had not used in years. With no wind, the sail hung down like a piece of silent skin.

Chaoyin sat in the bow with her father's chart pinned beneath her hands. The old man rowed, each oar stroke falling into the water as though time itself were being pushed back forty years.

When they left the lighthouse, the lamp at the top turned by itself. Its beam did not point toward the channel. It pointed into the deepest fog of the bay.

The old man knew it was not a warning. It was a summons.