Dawn settled over the water as Rowan hauled up a net heavier than anything he had lifted in years. Something massive and lumpy rested inside, covered in thick barnacles. He thought it was the biggest clam he had ever seen until a faint metallic glint peeked through the crusted surface.
The surface felt too rigid, unnervingly symmetrical. It didn’t flex the way a shell should. His pulse jumped as he wedged his knife beneath a seam and chipped away stubborn barnacles. A sharp metallic clang rang out. Unease prickled his skin. Whatever this object was, it certainly wasn’t alive.
With a final tap, a barnacle chunk snapped free, revealing a narrow line that looked uncomfortably like a hinge. Rowan froze, his breath caught. It was man-made, not a clam at all, but something sealed shut for decades, disguised by the sea. His hand hovered over the lid, suddenly hesitant to continue.