The ore-cart lift groaned as it dragged us upward through the ancient shaft, every vibration crawling into my bones. The rickety cage swayed in slow arcs, each jolt sending a throb through the fracture in my wrist brace. The pearl inside me pulsed slowly, almost grudgingly, but it was still there. I tried to steady my breathing, matching that pulse, holding on to the rhythm as the lift creaked higher.
Lis sat across from me, helmet resting in her lap, her gill lines trembling faintly. She ran a finger along the fresh scar across her pauldron. "You think command will keep me on surface patrols after this?" she asked, half a laugh in her voice that didn't quite stick.
"Only if they want you bored," I replied. "You fought a living wall and a shadow manta. That earns more than patrols."
She huffed through her gills. "That wall almost flattened me. Next time, it can fight someone else."
Echo-Hand crouched by the gate, the pale glow of his mask reflecting the faint light. His voice was calm and unsettling. "Walls remember. Heart chambers older than your reef do not forget who walks their veins."
"That's not comforting," Lis muttered, shaking her head.
"It was not meant to comfort," he said simply. "It was meant to remind."
The lift jerked, chains rattling as we passed a broken archway. Dim red lamps pulsed far below, marking the breach route we had survived. My lateral line shivered; I could almost feel the machine counting our seconds.
Veshra clutched the vial close, frost halo shimmering around it. "Readings stable," she said, though her voice quavered. "The council will understand why we risked it."
Ashekan stood behind her, silent as stone, his spear resting against the floor. His stillness was not reassuring. It reminded me that even he felt the weight pressing in from below.
Glyphbay Nine smelled of brine, iodine, and burned mana. Medic artisans moved briskly between injured watch, their voices low, hands glowing with faint blue glyphs. The whispers followed us, no, they followed the vial in Veshra's grip, its violet glow impossible to ignore.
A senior medic pressed my wrist onto a cooling slab. "Fractured crystal, tendon strain," she muttered, wrapping it in chilled foam. "No casting for half a cycle. Disobey, and I mark your pearl for rest."
"Yes, Healer," I said, knowing my answer wouldn't stop what came next.
Veshra slid the vial into containment. Cold mist hissed, clamps locking around the glass. Numbers flared across her slate, mana spectrum peaking higher than any I'd seen. The tube vibrated faintly, the sound unsettling in the quiet hall.
Lis perched on a cot, helmet dangling from her fingers. "Every time I blink, I see orange runes," she muttered.
"Normal afterimage," the medic said. "Rest."
Rejah approached, face tight. "Egg watchers report no breach, but bloom troughs dropped another ten percent. That vial is our lifeline."
Ashekan stood behind her. "Debrief in fifteen. Council wants details." There was no question in his tone, only fact.
Yera POV
The rotunda gleamed with new weld seams, silver scars across smoke-stained stone. I stood before the elders, armor cold, scars from the chamber fight still fresh. Rejah's projections shimmered beside me, showing vein maps, slurry readings, the glowing vial.
Elder Shemril gripped her staff, voice sharp. "You brought living shadow residue into our vaults?"
"Contained, chilled," I replied evenly. "Its energy could stabilise our grid."
Elder Fin stroked a coral ring, eyes distant. "Or burn the reef from within the moment a seal fails."
The debate spiraled, lockdowns, research, exile collaboration, until the floor rattled beneath us. Dust drifted down. A tremor, faint but enough to silence the chamber. We all felt it. The heart had shifted. Time was short.
Back in my voice, the council chamber's bright lights felt like heat against my scales. I gave my field report, words mechanical but steady. Sentinel counts, coolant spiral, vein seal, shadow manta, the vial. Elder Shemril's stare burned when I mentioned it, but I finished.
Later I found a quiet alcove and wrote a note for the demi-god, explaining why I had woken something that massive. My wrist throbbed, words cramped, but I wrote: I guided currents, but they felt heavier than I imagined.
Pearl fatigue crawled through me: pressure behind my eyes, ringing in my gills. Was one vial worth the risk? The question lingered like a wound.
Echo-Hand led us to an abandoned seed vault on the western ridge. Dust clung to old urns, air dry as silt. Saar waited, tall and cloaked, his gill lines glowing faint green. He nodded at me, respect but no warmth.
"Glass-Bloom Ravine's far side grows loud," he said. "Second heart stirs. Motes migrate faster."
"That fast?" Veshra asked, unease in her tone.
Saar produced a crystal pulsing faint amber. "Exile scouts mapped tremor zones. Your council closes ridges, but the machine counts days."
Ashekan's grip whitened on his spear. "Council will demand proof."
"You have proof already," Saar replied. "The vial you carry is the heart's blood."
The tension was thick. Echo-Hand finally said, "Joint mission. Exile knowledge, reef strength. Refuse, and we both drown."
I saw Ashekan's hesitation. Trusting Exiles went against everything we were taught, but I felt the truth in Saar's words.
Veshra POV
The lab's violet light shimmered across the containment coil. Cooling pipes hissed, but readings climbed. Shadow filaments laced the churn, weaving patterns like living script. I tightened ammonia flow; frost spread across the glass.
Rejah leaned close. "Grid runs stable at one-third charge. This could run troughs for months."
"It could burn them," I said. "Sync to the heart's pulse or it ruptures."
The filaments crawled higher, brushing the glass. It screamed, hairline cracks spreading. I snapped the clamp shut. The filament shrank, the room stank of ozone. Power and risk walked hand in hand.
My dome felt cold when I returned. I knelt by the seedstone. The tangleweed sprout wilted, pearl veins pulsing dim yellow. I trimmed a leaf, hands trembling. Pressure built in my head; the ringing in my gills grew. Every blink showed amber runes.
A tremor rolled under the floor. Artifacts on the shelf rattled. Outside, alarms stayed silent. Yet I knew, the heart counted faster.
I touched the chilled pouch where the vial glowed faintly. It vibrated in time with the tremor. I could not sleep.
Dawn cycle barely began when klaxons blared. Red glyphs strobed through corridors, alarms shrieking. Outer trench shields at sixteen percent. Amber steam rising from ridge vents.
Ashekan met me in the junction, armor half-fitted. "Mixed strike. Reef and Exile. You're liaison." He handed me the band.
Lis appeared, visor patched, humor gone. Saar waited in the shadowed arch, cloak dripping dew.
"The reef is no longer waiting," Echo-Hand said. "It is waking."
I tightened the liaison band around my wrist. The pearl pulsed once, tired yet determined. We walked to the lift, tremor matching each step.