In the captain’s quarters, maps are inked in haste, and the scent of salt-baked decks clings to every plank. Teakwood, worn smooth by years at sea, carries the weight of storms.
This candle burns like a logbook of the sea, wild, weathered, and a tale not finished.
Light it, and you’re not just on the ship. You own it.
In the captain’s quarters, maps are inked in haste, and the scent of salt-baked decks clings to every plank. Teakwood, worn smooth by years at sea, carries the weight of storms.
This candle burns like a logbook of the sea, wild, weathered, and a tale not finished.
Light it, and you’re not just on the ship. You own it.
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