Priscila and Máximo joined the captain at the back of the boat, where a small wooden table creaked slightly under the weight of the plates. The smell of the sea mingled with that of freshly baked bread and roasted meat. The captain, a sturdy man with a gray beard and hands weathered from work, served each of them a generous piece of meat, along with golden, aromatic Libum bread.

  —This is what I usually eat when the sun goes down. — he said in a hoarse but friendly voice, placing a jug of water in the center of the table. — If you want seconds, there's plenty.

  — Don't worry, I'm more than satisfied with this. — replied Maximus with a grateful smile, taking his bread carefully. — And you, Priscilla?

  —Of course, don't worry. — added the princess politely, gazing at the scarlet-tinged horizon.

  The three sat down without haste, letting the gentle rocking of the boat lull them as the sun slowly descended, painting the sky in shades of red and orange. The air began to cool, and the first stars appeared like timid fireflies among the clouds.

  —Are you afraid, young ones? — asked the captain as he chewed calmly, his eyes fixed on the sea.

  Maximus swallowed before replying, his voice calm but firm:

  —We are more uncertain than afraid, sir.

  Priscilla nodded, resting her elbows gently on the table, her gaze fixed on the point where the sun had just disappeared.

  —We need answers. — she said. — We've made up our minds.

  The captain didn't respond right away. He just nodded, as if he understood something beyond words. And then there was silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but one of those peaceful silences that happen between people who don't need to talk to feel like they're together. They chewed slowly, watching the twilight as the sky turned deep blue.

  When they had finished eating, the captain stood up with a slight crackling of his joints and began to light the oil lamps arranged around the deck. One by one, the flickering lights came to life, casting golden flashes that danced with the sea breeze.

  —Thank you for dinner. — said Maximus as he rose, bowing his head.

  —It's been a good start to the voyage. — added Priscilla with a faint smile.

  The captain looked at them with a mixture of respect and sympathy.

  —Rest well. Tomorrow, the sea will take us further.

  They both nodded and waved goodbye before heading to their cabin. The sound of the waves and the creaking of the wood accompanied them as they descended the small staircase. The night enveloped them, serene but full of promise. They still didn't know what the journey had in store for them, but for the first time in a long time, they felt they were on their way to something meaningful.

  They both put on their pajamas and, after settling into bed, picked up a book each. The dim light from the lamp barely illuminated the room, just enough to read. The murmur of the sea crashing against the hull of the ship accompanied the silence that settled between them.

  Priscila, however, couldn't concentrate. The moment had such an unusually peaceful vibe that she couldn't help thinking how much it looked like a scene from a married couple's life: the two of them reading in the same bed, as if it were the same one in which they had raised their children... and where their grandchildren had jumped around in the morning.

  The idea seemed as absurd as it was amusing. Although it was centuries ahead of her, the thought made her laugh to herself, breaking the silence with a low, restrained laugh.

  —What are you laughing at? — Máximo asked without taking his eyes off his book. —You're reading politics, not comedy.

  —Thoughts. — she replied, still smiling.

  —What kind of thoughts?

  —I don't have to tell you. — she replied, returning to her book, although she was no longer reading.

  —Hey. — he said, snatching the book from her with a quick movement. — Tell me.

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  —You're obnoxious.

  —I'm curious, not obnoxious.

  —Obnoxious all the same.

  —Tell me...

  Priscila rolled her eyes, resigned.

  —We look like a married couple reading in bed.

  Maximo looked at her silently for a few seconds, then let out a laugh identical to the one she had made minutes earlier.

  —It's true.

  —Right? Now give me the book.

  —All right, my wife. — he said, handing it back with a mocking smile.

  —You're annoying.

  —A little, just to annoy you and see your face.

  —You're so annoying. — she repeated, laughing as she took her book back.

  They went back to reading, and an hour passed. When they both finished their books, they let silence fill the space again. The atmosphere was still calm, but now there was a different warmth, as if that conversation had brought them even closer together.

  After a while, they decided to go out for some air. They wrapped up warmly before going up on deck: the wind was strong, and the cold felt more intense under the moonlight. They walked in silence to the opposite end of the bow. They could barely see anything beyond the dim light of the lamps, but the silver reflection of the moon on the waves created an almost magical image.

  Priscila yawned.

  —Do you want to go to bed?

  —Not yet...

  —It's cold, you should go inside.

  —You're annoying.

  They both laughed again, but finally gave in to the cold and went back inside, ready for bed.

  The second day on board dawned calm. The gentle rocking of the boat lulled them softly like a cradle, and the sky, tinged with shades of pink and gold, promised a storm-free day. Priscila and Máximo stretched lazily, put on comfortable clothes, and went up on deck, drawn by the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with sea salt.

  The captain was already waiting for them at a wooden table set up under a canvas that protected them from the wind. Three steaming bowls of dark coffee were ready, along with plates containing libum bread, fresh cheese, and some dried fruit.

  —Good morning, young sailors. — greeted the captain, raising his cup with a faint smile beneath his graying beard. —The sea is putting us in a good mood today.

  —And good coffee, from the smell of it. — commented Máximo as he sat down, still sleepy.

  —Did you sleep well? — asked Priscilla, throwing the blanket over her shoulders.

  —Better than expected. The rocking of the ship lulled me more than any cradle. — he replied with a lazy smile.

  —And you, Priscilla? — asked the captain as he offered her some bread.

  —I slept well, although I dreamed that the ship turned into a giant fish and swallowed us. — she joked, making the old sailor smile.

  —I've heard stranger dreams. — said the captain, taking a sip of his coffee. — Although that reminds me of a story... if you like, I can tell it while we have breakfast. It's not short, but it's worth it.

  Priscila and Máximo exchanged glances with interest.

  —We're always up for a good story. — said Máximo, leaning slightly on the table.

  The captain rested both elbows on the wood, interlaced his fingers, and gazed at the horizon with a solemn air.

  —Years ago, when I was younger and my hair was still black as ink, I traveled with a small but daring crew. There were seven of us, and we sailed south, beyond the known routes, skirting islands that don't appear on maps. On one of those voyages... we saw something.

  —Something? — asked Priscila, her brow slightly furrowed.

  —A shadow. A huge, silent, white mass. At first we thought it was a bank of clouds reflected in the water... but no. It was a creature. White as the moon, huge as a hill. It was swimming just below the surface, so slowly that it seemed motionless, but it was moving forward.

  —A whale? — asked Maximus.

  The captain nodded slowly, still staring at the sea.

  —A whale. But not just any whale. It was different. Its eyes... weren't like an animal's. They were like something that thinks. That observes. It didn't attack us. It just swam alongside us for three days. Day and night, the white shadow followed us. And no one slept peacefully. It was as if it knew we were there, as if it were studying us.

  Silence fell for a moment. The sound of the waves seemed to grow louder.

  —And then what happened? — whispered Priscila.

  —On the fourth night... one of our men, Armand, the cook, started muttering things. —He said the creature was calling him, that it knew him. No one took him seriously, until dawn, when we found him in his hammock.

  —Did he jump? — asked Máximo in a lower voice.

  —We don't know. But his coat was folded over the railing. And in its place, there was a small drawing... made with chalk on the wet wood. It was a spiral. White.

  The captain took a sip of coffee, without looking at either of them.

  —And what did you do? — asked Priscila.

  —We left. We changed course. And since then, none of us has ever spoken of it. Except me, from time to time, when I see in someone's eyes the same mixture of curiosity and respect that you have for the sea.

  —That... sounds like a mixture of Moby Dick and an ancient legend. — said Máximo, visibly shocked.

  —Ahab had his obsession. But what we saw... wasn't hatred. It was something else. Something we don't understand. Something that shouldn't have been there.

  —And you think that creature is still in the sea? — asked Priscila, her voice a little lower.

  The captain smiled, but his gaze remained serious.

  —I believe the sea is older than any story. And it keeps its secrets in the depths. Some sleep. Others... wait.

  The breeze picked up at that moment, causing the canvas above them to flutter. The sun was shining brightly, but the story had left a shadow in the air.

  —Well, I think that's enough to whet your appetite, don't you think? — said the captain, returning to his usual tone and breaking off a piece of bread.

  —Or completely ruined it. — laughed Máximo, though his eyes were still fixed on the sea.

  —You'll see, a walk and a little painting will fix everything. — said Priscila as she stood up with her cup in her hand. — Although I won't be looking at the water the same way for a while.

  That day, they painted in silence. The waves continued to roll in and the sun shone high in the sky, but in the minds of both young people, the white shadow continued to swim. Invisible. Distant. Watchful.

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