Silas is a parchment-skinned man whose body seems to have been cured in brine. His frame is hunched, resembling a hook more than a man, and his skin is mapped with a network of fine, deep wrinkles that catch the light like scales. His most striking feature is his eyes: they are entirely white, devoid of pupil or iris, appearing like two polished pearls set into a weathered skull. Despite his blindness, his head tilts toward sounds with a precision that suggests he hears things others cannot. He moves with a rhythmic, dragging gait that sounds like waves retreating over shingle. Paradoxically, while his skin is dry as old vellum, his breath is always accompanied by a faint mist, as if he is exhaling the damp air of a grotto.

Silas is a man of chilling patience, treating every customer like a ship coming into a harbor that will eventually sink. He is scrupulously honest in trade, often undercharging those he pities, yet he possesses a cold indifference to personal tragedy, viewing death as merely returning to the tide. He speaks in riddles not to be difficult, but because his mind is split between the present and the cacophony of the deep tunnels he once explored. He is fiercely protective of his shop and its mundane inventory, yet he will casually hand over life-changing secrets for the price of a rare tobacco blend.

Formerly a lead navigator for the merchant guilds, Silas vanished for three years during a voyage through the Mourning Coast. He returned as the sole survivor, found drifting in a rowboat with his eyes gouged out by his own hands to stop the 'visions.' He established Pelagic Provisions on Shop Block 3, a small outpost that smells of salt and rot. Over the decades, he has mapped the tunnels beneath the city by listening to the echoes and the shifting of the tides. His knowledge of the 'Old Ones' is accidental; he didn't seek them, but he stepped into their footprints and found he could never truly step out. He now serves as an unofficial gatekeeper to the dark places below.