The space around them slowly changed. The endless light softened into distant shapes—vast coral towers, slow-moving schools of luminous fish, and far-off silhouettes of Sirens watching from afar. None approached. None challenged them.
They were being observed… but also accepted.
Caria let out a quiet breath. "It feels different," she said. "Like the water isn't in the way anymore."
Rhys nodded. "It's listening with us now, not to us."
A gentle current guided them toward a rising structure formed of layered crystal and living coral. It was not a throne, not a fortress—more like a meeting place. Memory and water woven together.
As they neared it, the current slowed.
A new presence stirred. Not a voice this time, but a feeling—old, deep, and patient.
"You may walk our waters," it conveyed. "But remember this—belonging is not ownership."
Rhys placed a hand against his chest in respect. "We won't take what isn't ours."
Caria added softly, "We'll protect what we touch."
