The crack in my wrist brace sang to every heartbeat as we rode the service lift back toward the reef-city shell. It was not a triumphant ascent but a slow exhale after holding breath too long. The half-heart behind us lay quiet, yet the liaison band at my wrist pulsed with off-beat flutters my pearl did not like. One chamber calmed, the other sped up. We had balanced the scale by tilting it toward an unknown edge.
Veshra and Rejah met us at the upper bay, shoulders hunched against stray pressure ripples that still rolled through the water like distant thunder. They relieved Lis of the violet vial, sliding it into a triple-locked shellcase. The glow inside stuttered, then dimmed, almost as if the sample itself were catching its breath.
"Pulse variance holding at three beats a segment," Veshra muttered, her slate stylus tapping. "That's lower than I expected."
"Lower, but faster," Rejah replied, fins curling anxiously. "The first heart is still accelerating."
Lis drifted beside me, visor dangling from her belt. "I feel like part of my fins stayed down there," she admitted, voice soft.
"You kept them," I said with a tired smile, "for now."
Ashekan overheard and gave Lis a nod that was almost approval. From him, that was praise enough.
The rotunda's lanterns blazed, their light refracted into glimmering currents against the pearlstone dais. Elders lined the crescent platform, voices sharp as knife-fish spines. I gave my report, but the chamber erupted with crosscurrents of argument.
Elder Shemril's staff struck the floor, sending ripples up the walls. "Watchman Kaelen confirms a beat increase in the primary chamber. Any acceleration risks catastrophic vent pressure."
High Artisan Fin leaned forward, gill lines flaring. "With that vial, we can reinforce bloom troughs and stabilisers. Are we truly condemning hatchlings to starvation over risk alone?"
"The risk is not theory," Shemril snapped. She turned to me. "When you linked the hearts, describe exactly what you felt."
"The water stiffened first, like a current hitting rock, and then it softened," I said. "The beats intertwined, but the older chamber felt… impatient. Every new pulse dragged at mine."
Whispers rose through spectators: engineers, healers, Exile observers. Yera raised her hand. Elder Lania, younger than most, spoke cautiously. "What of cooperation with the Exiles? They stand ready to assist."
Half the dais recoiled. Councillor Talos spat, "Outcasts who siphoned fruit meant for divine guardians have no place steering reef fate."
Echo-Hand, standing in the side gallery, spoke evenly. "We know only what exile taught us, that hearts respond to guidance, not chains. Treat them as engines, they revolt. Treat them as organs, they heal."
Talos sneered. "Poetry is not engineering."
"Poetry kept us alive when walls shut us out," Echo-Hand replied.
The chamber rippled with outrage and support. Yera struck the sounding shell three times, the sound rolling through the water like a drum. "Enough. We vote: reinforce troughs with limited slurry and dispatch a joint team, Reef and Exile, to monitor the primary chamber. Debate is over. We move."
I barely cleared the council tier when amber flares lit every current lane, hatchery alert. The alarm pitch buzzed against my lateral line. Pain vanished under urgency. I kicked hard, currents roaring past.
The hatchery plaza swirled with chaos. Caretakers guided trembling hatchlings into spiral pods. Steam hissed from vents, clouding the water. Runic arches blinked crimson.
Lis shouted over the din. "North intake plume is at critical! Pods are rerouting, but the water's boiling too fast."
I read the gauges: four degrees rise per breath. "Seal the upper arch and pull coolant from the nursery cistern!" I shouted.
A caretaker fumbled at a jammed lever. I swam over, channeled a cooling spiral, and the housing contracted. The lever freed, and cold water surged through lanes. My pearl throbbed dangerously yellow, veins burning. Hatchlings squealed, trilling fear into the currents.
Lis swooped down, directing juniors. "Pods rerouted! Spiral's holding!"
The walls moaned with pressure. I widened my spiral, forcing chilled currents through vent channels. Exhaustion clawed at me. Pain knifed through my brace, but I held until the crimson faded to amber, then green. Pods settled. Caretakers signed all safe.
Lis grabbed my arm. "Breathe, Kaelen. Slowly." I obeyed, drawing mineral-rich water deep and steady.
In the corridor beyond, I leaned against a coral pillar, seedstone pouch warm in my hand. I opened it; the tangleweed sprout glowed faint teal, its tips pale.
Memory struck, mist swirling around the demi-god's colossal form. "Feel the current, not your heartbeat," he said, voice resonating through the pool. "Only then will water carry your will." He stirred the tide with one finger; a perfect helix formed. I tried, failed, frustrated.
"Guide, do not force," he said, pressing a seedstone into my palms. "Life follows that law, or life ends."
Back in the corridor, I whispered, "Guide, not force." The pale tips brightened slightly. The mantra was more than memory; it was the only way to keep balance.
The Silver Arch glowed faintly with kelp blossoms when we gathered. Saar unrolled a glowing chart onto the shell table.
"Our scouts traced tremor nodes here and here," he said, pointing to marks pulsing faint. "They converge on a third axis beyond Bloom Field."
Lis's voice was quiet. "That's close to the nursery."
Veshra tapped her stylus. "If a lung ring forms there, it could siphon coolant from the nursery grid. We'd lose control."
"The council won't send another team so soon," I said. "They're still arguing."
Saar's eyes were calm but hard. "Exiles will act if the reef hesitates. You have one cycle to convince them."
I nodded. "Give me that cycle."
"The water is ticking," he said.
The group dispersed. I tucked the mirrored shard Echo-Hand had given me deeper into my pouch, just in case.
Night currents in my dome usually hummed. Tonight they froze. Pain blazed through my pearl veins; I gasped, gripping the cot edge. The liaison band glowed green-yellow, nearly orange. The pattern was wrong, beats too close, then too far.
The first heart is slipping.
The vial pulsed in frantic rhythm. My pearl tried to match, faltered, and pain stabbed behind my eyes. I pressed my palm to the seedstone, grounding my thoughts. "Water remembers," the demi-god's voice echoed. I forced my breathing to slow until the band cooled to low-green.
But the tangleweed leaf bore a brown spot. The reef strained. Each heart beat to its own story, demanding a guide neither council nor exile fully understood.
I strapped my brace, tightened the liaison band, and keyed the door glyph. Cool corridor water rushed in. Alarms remained silent, but my pearl throbbed a private siren.
I kicked hard toward the council tier, each stroke echoing the uneven drum in my chest. The reef would not wait. Neither would I.