the Legend

Chapter Twenty Two– Quiet Before the Tide

The sea had a different sound now.

It wasn’t the roar of chaos or the crash of storms anymore, but a slow, even rhythm—steady, patient, confident. It was the sound of a place healing.

A year had passed since Greyharbor threw off the weight of Harrington and Mercer’s corruption. The harbor had been rebuilt by its own people—hands calloused but proud, hearts still learning what freedom felt like. Boats lined the docks again, painted in bright blues and reds, their names hand-carved instead of branded by corporate sponsors.

Adrian Locke walked among them that morning, boots thudding softly against the damp planks. The air was sharp with salt and promise.

He still rose before dawn, even when he didn’t have to. Habit had outlasted necessity. Some mornings, he cast off into the open water alone, just to feel the quiet against his skin. Other days—like this one—he walked the harbor, checking on repairs, greeting the early risers who waved from their boats.

“Morning, Adrian,” old Tomas called