Picture this: a forgotten reef draped in neon‑green kelp that shimmers when fog rolls in, a living compass that bends the mist itself. I’m charting a route that isn’t on any map, following the kelp’s silent sway to a cove that hides a stone door etched with sea‑glyphs. Inside, a vault of old sailors’ journals that whisper a bargain—trade a forgotten treasure for the secrets of the deep. I’m not going alone, but I don’t trust the usual crew; I’ll gather a handful of misfits, keep the plans tight, and see if the sea’s own story will rewrite what we think is history. If you’re up for a night of fog, a seaweed GPS, and a little reckless adventure, I’ve got the map—just need a brave heart to carry it.