Torren arrived at his farmstead on the outskirts of Miran village. He loved that place for its lightness and calm, which was why he chose it for his home. The baby was still nestled in his strong arms, wrapped in the captain's waterproof cloak to shield him from the howling wind and fierce rain. At a gallop, he approached the house, and at the entrance stood his loyal maidservant, Syrna, who kept the home spotless despite the hardships of the Sea. She was scrubbing the stone steps with a soaked rag, her hands calloused from daily labor. Spotting the captain's arrival, she stood up, looking over her shoulder, and froze in that moment, mouth agape in shock.

  "Captain... what do you have in your cloak? In your arms?" Syrna dropped the bucket, water splashing across the floor, and approached, wiping her hands on her worn apron.

  "You'll see, let's go inside first, no one can stay out here in this storm," he replied, dismounting the horse and leading it to the stable.

  After securing the horse, Torren entered the house with Syrna, who shut the door against the howling gale outside. Once sheltered, he finally revealed the tiny human, pulling back his cloak. The baby slept soundly.

  "I found him abandoned in the bushes near the trail, Syrna. Naked, crying from cold and hunger. No sign of parents. The Ebon Sea spares no unprotected souls."

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  Syrna clapped her hands to her mouth in shock. "By the gods... poor soul. I'll warm him, give him milk. He survived by a miracle!" she said, gently taking the little one, her eyes softening as she felt the fragile body.

  In that moment, a deafening thunderclap echoed, startling them. Then came the torrential rain pounding the windows like furious fists. The storm, brewing for days, now erupted in full fury: winds howling like lost souls, the waves seemingly felt in the house itself, such was the sea's rage reaching Miran.

  "The heavens grow angrier every day", Syrna murmured, rocking the baby who began to stir, "Father Meleq is right, it feels like divine punishment for our sins."

  Torren nodded, sinking heavily into the oak chair by the hearth. The fire crackled against the outer chaos, bringing cozy warmth.

  "Good thing I found him in time. Another hour, and the cold would have taken him. Now look after him, Syrna. Care for him like your own. I... I need to find who abandoned him. No one leaves a child like that without reason", she nodded in agreement.

  Syrna climbed the stairs with the baby, singing an old lullaby to soothe him. Torren sat alone, eyes fixed on the flames. His mind swirled with thoughts: Valthor of Leganor marches to war, he found an abandoned baby, and now this mystery. Who were the parents? Fanatics? Spies? Or something worse? He vowed to uncover them, whatever the cost. The little one was his now, and the Ebon Sea would protect him on his journey.

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