Brackish Whispers - Wax Melt

A cold gust of sea salt and storm-tossed air fills the room, clean and cutting as a wave at midnight. But beneath the bright brine lies the scent of rotting wood, tattered sails, and rusted chains—remnants of a vessel long lost to the deep. Some say this candle carries the breath of a ghost ship, still sailing under moonless skies, its crew of shadows drawn to the flame.