Ulrich lay against the cracked wooden ramp near the ruined prow.
At some point, he had fallen asleep.
He did not remember closing his eyes.
The exhaustion had simply taken him.
Sleep had come without permission.
Ulrich opened his eyes.
For a moment, his vision remained unclear.
Darkness pressed around the ship. The harbor lights had grown dimmer, and the fire at the broken ram had become little more than a bed of embers. Smoke still drifted above the deck, but the rain had stopped.
The air was cold.
The ship creaked softly beneath the movement of the water.
Ulrich blinked.
He did not know how long he had been unconscious.
Minutes.
Perhaps an hour.
It did not matter.
His body felt no better.
Pain remained everywhere. His ribs hurt when he breathed. His shoulder burned where the lightning had struck. The stump of his left arm throbbed beneath the bloody bandages. Even his right hand ached from holding the anti-magic sword for too long.
