EXPOSURE

In the dead of night, the SS Eryndor sailed into the Bermuda Triangle's glassy waters, its crew unaware of the horror lurking beneath. Shadows darted through the depths-too swift, too vast, too wrong. Claws, glinting like obsidian, tore through steel hulls as if they were paper. Screams echoed, cut short by guttural roars that weren't animal, weren't human. The ship's lights flickered, then died. By dawn, the Eryndor was gone-no wreckage, no trace, only the Triangle's silent, insatiable hunger claiming another.