Mint-salve cradled my gills as consciousness seeped back into me. The healer cradle's water was cool and soothing, almost enough to trick my mind into believing I was floating in some quiet lagoon far from danger. Then the ache behind my ribs reminded me I was still anchored to the reef. My mana organ beat slowly, uneven, and when I touched the pearl at my chest it shivered faintly, as though whispering that it lived but would not hold me forever.
The healer-binder glided above, green light pulsing along her fingers as she sealed the last tear across my fin. She worked with precision, though exhaustion lined her face."You kept us busy," she said quietly."Better busy than mourning," I replied, voice raw. "How many still lie in triage?""Too many," she admitted, smoothing salve into the scar along my shoulder. "But fewer than we feared. The reef owes you for that."
She drifted away, leaving only the hum of water and the soft whispers of the wounded around me. Some patients floated in cocoons, eyes closed, others stared hollowly at nothing, trapped in battles behind their gaze. Somewhere a voice chanted an old prayer to the Demi-God. I closed my eyes and let the current's rhythm ease the weight in my chest. Even here, the reef trembled faintly under my hands, as though wary of what lay below.
When I swam out of the healer hall, the water felt different against my skin. Repairs wrapped around cracked walls, new coral grafts glowing faint where seals were still fresh. The scars showed through like lines in old shell. Citizens moved carefully, speaking in voices softer than usual. Some glanced at me with awe, others with fear, and I caught fragments of whispers."They say he cut the veins himself.""He bled in the dark, but came back breathing."I slipped past before their eyes could settle on me. I was not ready to carry their legend.
The nursery dome stood quiet. Younglings swam slow circles under a caretaker's guidance, counting strokes instead of laughing. Hairline fractures in the glass were sealed, yet the children pressed tiny hands to the repaired edges, as if they sensed what had pressed from the other side. Farther along, a shellbinder inscribed support glyphs onto a pillar. Sparks of blue traced the coral, lines that wove together like veins. He looked up, surprised to find me watching."You are the one who shaped the current," he said."One of them," I answered.He offered a tired smile and placed a shard of bright coral into my hand. "Take it. A piece of thanks."I accepted the shard, feeling its warmth against my palm, then tucked it away as I continued.
At the central ridge, Yera leaned against a column bandaged in mossy kelp. Bandages wrapped her arm, but her spear rested steady across her back. She looked up and studied me."Still standing," she said, relief and reproach both in her tone."Mostly," I answered, adjusting the strap across my chest where the pearl still sat heavy and dark."Council meets in a ring today," she told me. "They called you to speak. And they invited Exile delegates."I raised a brow. "Invited? Or demanded?""Invited," she said, though her fins flicked with tension. "I've never seen them do it before. Not once.""Then we should see what comes of it," I said.Yera pushed away from the column and motioned for me to follow. "Come. Let's meet history."
The Tidebreak Council chamber spiraled upward like the inside of a great shell, light spilling in waves across the water from living lanterns. Elders floated in a ring, robes moving with the current, their eyes like watchful lanternfish. Watchers stood on carved ledges, spears grounded against coral, ready though unmoving. Glyph seals shimmered over each archway, bright enough to keep shadowspawn at bay, dim enough to let the water remain still.
When I entered, murmurs rose and swirled but quickly hushed. All gazes followed as Veshra and her Exile scouts stepped in behind me. Their cloaks were pale, mirrored arm-plates folded tight. Their eyes carried no fear, only a resolute calm that filled the room like an unseen tide. Watchers shifted uneasily at their presence.
Elder Shemril, her artisan fins stained with old pigment, leaned forward. "The reef bleeds," she said, "and those who deserted it now circle like scavengers."Veshra met her gaze unflinching. "We bled in the Ember Veins. Our dead lie with yours. Count them before you measure our worth."
Before anger could spark, Commander Vonn rose, his voice cutting through the current. Bandages wrapped his shoulders, yet his presence filled the chamber. "The Ember Veins are silent, but silence is fragile. The body we retrieved carried three stolen organs, grafted by brute craft. If that power spreads, no wall will hold."
Rejah drifted forward, holding her rune tablet. "We severed three conduits, but glyph echoes show more tunnels winding under basalt. We closed one door, not the hall behind it."
The elders stirred, some in fear, some in anger. One slammed a hammer haft against the dais. "Seal every vent, double the guard, keep Exiles beyond the walls!"
Veshra's cloak shifted slightly, but her voice stayed calm. "Seal us out and you cut away half your strength. We feed the god. We defended this reef when the water burned. Do not forget." She turned slightly, and her eyes met mine. "Ask your Watcher what he saw."
Elder Vonn beckoned me forward. My pulse throbbed weakly against the pearl's cold weight. I spoke anyway."I saw a giant powered by stolen life. Every surge cracked its own armor, but it nearly shattered us too. When the feeder vein broke, it faltered. Yet when it fell, I saw something else. A glow beneath the Veins, violet and cold. It pulsed once, then vanished. That was no drill flare."
A hush fell over the room, as sharp as a spear's point."Shadowspawn?" someone whispered."No," I said. "Something different. Something deeper."
The words hung heavy in the water.
The chamber door opened and a shell-priest entered, cloaked in mist. He carried a vessel glowing faint blue, the Demi-God's blessing curling inside. "The god accepts Exile offerings," he said, voice deep as the tide. "He sees no division between child of reef and child of exile."
The currents shifted with his words. Arguments softened, though the fear in their eyes remained.
Debate continued, quieter but sharper. Some urged to build walls higher, others to strike deeper. An elder warned that more fighting would bring more drills. Veshra countered, "Hiding invites storms."
I stepped forward again, the current moving with me. "If we do nothing, the next giant will have four organs, not three. And someone else will bleed because we hesitated." I looked to Shemril. "Let them stand with us, or break against us if they must. But the reef decides."
The council's vote came. Glyphlight rippled, mixed colors flashing, but the verdict held. Watchers and Exiles would dive together, map the deepest trenches, sever any veins still pulsing, and learn what waited in the violet dark. The decision etched itself in light along the chamber's walls.
When the meeting broke, Ashekan crossed to me. New scratches marred his breastplate. Without a word he placed a flare shard in my palm."Insurance?" I asked."Preparation," he said, gaze steady. "Currents swell faster than we think."
I left the chamber with the weight of new orders pressing on my shoulders. Patrol runners passed carrying triage bundles. Artisans hauled coral bricks to fortify breaches. Children recited swim drills in narrow lanes. Life pushed forward, refusing to stop.
Darun waited near the bloom trough stairs, a pouch in his hands. "For you," he said, voice rough. "Rilan's shard. The priests blessed it. They want it on the wall, but they said you should place it."I hesitated, the shard glowing faint in my palm. "It belongs to all of us.""To all," he agreed, "but you carried it here."
We climbed together to the memorial wall, fissures patched with new coral. I set the shard into a narrow crevice. Darun poured silver sand across the seam, sealing it. Exile scouts arrived, wrapping thin threads of mirrored fiber around the shard so it would catch every passing light. We bowed our heads together as the currents sang softly through the new weave.
Afterward I swam toward the overlook above the tidepool island. Mist curled there, thick and heavy, carrying the scent of fresh rain. Through the haze I saw him, the Demi-God, massive and still, eyes half closed. The water bent to his breath. I pressed both palms to the viewing stone. "We keep bleeding," I whispered. His golden gaze shifted, not at me but through me, and a pulse shivered through the current. I bowed and turned away before the weight of him could crush my thoughts.
My dome waited in the soft blue glow of evening. New coral patched its walls, and tangleweed curled wild from the seedstone cradle. I trimmed the shoots carefully, each cut grounding me. The plant pulsed faintly under my hand, steady and alive.
Outside, workers still moved, shadows against the reeflight. Inside, silence finally felt kind. I let the water hold me, eyes half closed, breathing slow. The reef breathed with me, wounded but alive, and that was enough, for now.