The water changed the moment we passed beneath the reef's last glow. Behind us, faint light still clung to coral spires, flickering like distant stars, but ahead the trench yawned into endless black. The current pressed hard against my scales, thick with silt and rust, tasting of metal and clay. Every pull of water through my gills felt heavier, as though the ocean itself resisted our descent. My mana organ throbbed in slow, deliberate beats, sending warmth into my limbs even as pressure gnawed at my ribs.
Yera swam just ahead, her spear cradled under one arm, and turned slightly to signal, Are you steady?I forced a nod. My body ached already, fatigue hiding under each movement, but there was no room for weakness here. The glowing veins along my throat betrayed every pulse, too bright against the darkness, their light an open beacon.
Veshra led at the front, her pale cloak drifting around her like a phantom fin. Without speaking, she pulled a small capsule from her belt and crushed it between her fingers. A cloud of fine silver dust spread out, trailing through the water in slow tendrils. It curled along the trench walls, mapping currents so faint they were invisible to the rest of us. She followed those ribbons with precision, weaving through hidden eddies with practiced ease. Even the Watchers behind her, hardened veterans, glanced at one another with a mix of respect and caution. Exiles were at home in places like this.
The walls narrowed until we swam single file. Stone rose on either side, carved unnaturally smooth, covered in grooves that spiraled in hexagonal patterns. The current funneled through these channels, guiding silt into neat lines along the trench floor. Orange light shimmered faintly ahead, and my stomach tightened. I drew a slow breath through my gills, calming the surge of tension, and pressed on.
We reached the first ghost-works moments later. Basalt columns rose from the floor like the bones of something ancient, fused to slabs of dull metal. Within the joints, scraps of flesh pulsed faintly. Mana organs, or what was left of them, twitched as if still alive. Their stolen energy kept dead machines breathing. The sight churned my stomach. The hum of earth-element signatures vibrated faintly through the water, cold and unfeeling, a song sung without soul.
Yera raised a recorder shard, etching the runes into its surface. Her jaw clenched with every passing second. "Proof," she mouthed.
We continued, gliding slowly. My gills drew water in long, controlled pulls, trying to keep my body calm. Then the path dipped beneath a low arch of stone. The pressure shifted, a warning ripple, and suddenly the wall roared. A hidden vent erupted, spewing boiling silt and scorching current. The water turned white with heat. Instinct pulled my arms wide, shaping a shield of water in front of us. Steam hissed and swirled, the current screaming against the barrier. My palms burned as mana surged out of me, but I held it until the vent sealed shut with a metallic groan. The shield collapsed, and I gasped water through my gills, the taste of heated minerals clinging to my tongue. Yera's eyes flashed relief, then caution. Her fingers tapped three: conserve yourself.
We had barely moved beyond the arch when movement stirred the shadows.
The sentinel stepped into view, stone plates glistening with faint light, orange runes burning between its armor seams. At its chest, behind a lattice of metal vines, a stolen mana organ pulsed in time with the glow of its visor. It moved without a sound, scanning the water with an unnatural stillness.
I tightened my grip on my spear. Veshra pressed herself to the wall and pulled a mirrored glyph patch from her pouch. She slapped it against the stone, and light bent sharply, refracting back toward the sentinel. Its visor flickered in confusion, sensors twisting toward false reflections. Yera lunged in with the grace of a predator, her blade cutting through water in a sharp arc. The sentinel snapped toward her, and I surged forward, forcing a jet of water into the vents along its joints. Pressure built, locking its movement for a heartbeat. Yera struck once, precise, at the neck seam where runes glowed brightest. The light inside the sentinel dimmed and vanished, and the construct sank, inert.
I pried a shard from its chest, runes still sparking faintly. "Telemetry," Yera said, stowing it. "The drills are connected to this."
We pressed on. The tunnel widened gradually until we emerged into a chamber so vast it felt like the hollowed heart of a mountain. Basalt pillars lined the edges, their surfaces scarred by grinding augers that loomed above us. Three drills hung like monstrous predators, their spiraling teeth slowly turning, biting into rock. Orange coolant lines pulsed along the walls, snaking into the machines like veins feeding a beast. A crystal panel glowed at the far wall.
Cycle Countdown: 54
The number pierced me deeper than the cold. Twelve cycles lost since sunrise. The reef had less than two tides left.
Close to the outer ring I saw a duller glow, a lattice of coolant rods that shimmered faintly with weaker light. If those rods fractured, pressure would seize the gear. Even my trembling arms agreed with the plan. Yera nodded once, her face set.
We swam low, avoiding sensor beams, and planted glyph detonators along the rods. Each anchor hissed softly as it bit into metal. I matched the pulse of the detonator to my own heart, shaping a thin vortex to damp the sound. My organ flared, warmth flooding my chest.
Light from the rune blinked, then the lattice screamed. Cracks raced through metal like lightning. The outer gear skipped, and the entire drill lurched. The chamber shook as alarms ignited, orange beams slicing across the walls. Mechanical roars answered, and suits powered up in the shadows, rising like stone giants.
The ceiling cracked. Rubble fell in clouds of silt. One Watcher darted clear, but another was pinned beneath a slab, his tail trapped. Yera planted herself beside him, straining against falling debris. "Go!" she shouted, voice raw with command. "Take Veshra, get the shard to Council!"
I wanted to stay, but her eyes left no room for argument. I pressed the shard to my chest, sealing it in its kelp pouch, and clasped her wrist once in promise. Veshra gripped my arm, and we darted into a fissure just as stone collapsed behind us, sealing Yera from view.
The tunnel twisted downward, darker with every turn. The water grew cold enough to sting, heavy with copper. My gills burned, dragging each pull harder, and my muscles shook with exhaustion. Veshra kept ahead, movements sharp and deliberate, a phosphor bead lighting our path. I followed, every stroke a battle.
The fissure opened suddenly into an antechamber. The water here was still, almost too still. At its center floated a sphere, larger than a reef dome, formed of wires and flesh. Dozens of stolen mana organs had fused into one grotesque heart. It beat slowly, each pulse sending ripples across the room, a hum that wormed into my skull.
The rhythm matched mine. Then it began to pull faster, tugging at my own beat, syncing, calling.
Complete the circuit. Join. Feed.
My vision swam. The warmth in my chest surged, not mine anymore, and I felt myself drifting toward the pulse.
"Kaelen." Veshra's voice cut through the fog like cold brine. Her hand gripped my shoulder. "Breathe. Do not let it take you."
I forced a draw of water through my gills, cold and sharp, breaking the convergence. My body shuddered as the sphere flared crimson. Its surface writhed, veins pulsing faster. From the far wall came the grinding roar of sentinels waking.
Veshra pulled her last mirrored patch from her belt, light flashing silver in her hand. "We buy time," she whispered, voice tight. "Then we end it."
Orange light strobed through cracks around us, smoke curling like ink in the water. The chamber trembled with a rhythm not my own.
Forty-some cycles and falling. The reef would not survive while this thing lived.
And with every pulse, its heartbeat climbed toward mine.