Chapter 237: The Recovery

Elias leaned forward, the candlelight casting shadows across their face. Their eyes held a secret—a shard of truth that could mend James's fractured resolve.

"You're not alone," Elias murmured, voice barely louder than the fluttering moth against the windowpane. "This setback—it's not random. There's a pattern, a hidden thread woven through the chaos."

James frowned. "A thread? What are you talking about?"

Elias's fingers traced the edge of an old map—the kind that whispered of uncharted lands and forgotten mysteries. "Remember the legend of the **Crimson Isle**?" they asked. "The place where storms raged perpetually, swallowing ships whole?"

James nodded. "A sailor's nightmare. But what does it have to do with…"

"…Everything," Elias interrupted. "The Crimson Isle isn't just a myth. It's a metaphor—a mirror reflecting our struggles. The storms we face, the setbacks—they're part of a grander design."

"But why?" James's frustration flared anew. "Why would anyone design a world so mercil
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