Far off in the deep expanse of the Iron Shallows, the remnants of the broken Solar Anchors were completely dead, their golden light extinguished forever. The ocean floor belonged to the dark now—and as long as Kyle Conner stood in the depths, the surface world would never claim it back.
The following morning broke not with sunrise, but with the subtle brightening of the sanctuary's luminescent moss as the oceanic tides shifted.
Kyle was already fully dressed in his dark tunic and trousers, binding his boots tight as Yua sat on the edge of the dais, weaving her dark hair into a tight combat braid. Elara stood near the mirror, strapping her twin aquatic daggers to her thighs with practiced ease.
"Commander Vaelen sent a messenger five minutes ago," Elara said, turning around to face Kyle. "A scouting party caught sight of three surface transport ships hovering near the edge of the Iron Shallows. They aren't dropping anchors this time, but they're deploying heavy scouting probes."
