Flight 19: Lost in the Triangle's Veil

Beneath the sky of fading light,

Five warbirds soared into the night,

Their compass spun, the world grew strange,

In silent clouds, their paths did change.

The leader's voice, both calm and grim,

Spoke of a world that shifted dim,

"The sea looks wrong, the land has fled,"

Then static roared—no more was said.

A rescue flew to trace the path,

But vanished too, as if in wrath.

No oil, no wing, no flare, no cry—

Just empty waves and endless sky.

Now whispers ride the ocean's breath,

Of ghostly wings and unseen death.

And still the deep keeps what it hides,

Where Flight 19 with shadow rides.