WebNovels

Chapter 39 - Still Water, heavy Sky

The demi-god's barrier shimmered like a second horizon beyond the ridge, curving upward as if the sea itself had learned to stand. I hovered at my watch post, currents wrapping cool around my gills. Dawn light refracted through the barrier's face, scattering in slow ripples of turquoise that danced across the rocks. It was beautiful, but also unnerving. No natural tide stayed so perfectly still.

I checked my sensor crystal again. Its faint green pulse stayed steady. Beside me, Lis adjusted her anchor line, eyes fixed on the horizon where the haze had finally cleared.

"Pressure's stable, no sign of breaches," she reported softly. Her voice carried like a low chord in the water.

"First calm readings in three cycles," I said, exhaling through my gills. My pearl ached from strain, but the pain was less sharp than before. It was the kind that reminded me I was still alive.

A young watcher swam up to relieve us. He nodded once, taking the crystal from my hand. Lis and I pushed off the ridge, letting the current guide us back toward the inner arches. Behind us, the barrier's glow remained, solid and unyielding.

The reef moved slowly under mourning decree. Council bells tolled through the tide hall, their low notes thrumming in the water like a heartbeat. Families gathered under caste banners, carrying lanterns that pulsed amber light. I joined the procession beside Veshra and Saar, neither of whom spoke. Silence was the ritual, and words were unneeded.

One by one we released lanterns into the central channel. Mine drifted upward, spinning slowly as bubbles clung to its edges. I watched until it disappeared among the glow above, carrying the names I'd pressed into my memory. Around me, others did the same. The water filled with hundreds of tiny lights rising toward the dome's peak.

Saar finally spoke as we drifted out. "Their echoes will stay in the current. It is what holds us together."

I nodded, though the ache in my chest made it hard to answer. "Echoes keep us honest. And they remind us what we risk every time we fight."

The council gathered openly in the central rotunda. Suspended platforms lined the chamber, each elder visible under glowing glyphlight. Yera floated at the center, calm but commanding.

"Emergency status is lifted," she announced. "We stand bruised but unbroken. Rebuilding begins now."

Elder Fin stepped forward, her salvage harness glinting. "Tech crews will examine the wreckage under commission oversight. What we recover could help us defend better, perhaps even rebuild stronger."

Talos crossed his arms, voice sharp. "Keep the pieces under guard. Do not hand over scraps to those who turned their backs on our laws."

Echo-Hand stood silently among the Exile delegates. The tension in the water was palpable, but no one challenged Yera when she raised a hand.

"This is no time for division," she said. "The reef endures because we face threats together."

The meeting closed with a single decision: heal first, argue later. As the crowd dispersed, Yera stopped me with a glance.

"Watcher Kaelen," she said. "You've carried more than most. By council order, you're granted extended leave for recovery."

"Recovery?" I asked.

Her gaze softened. "The reef still needs you, but you need to rebuild yourself before the next storm."

I bowed my head. "Understood."

Shemril, who rarely spoke outside arguments, added quietly, "Return not just stronger, but whole."

Lis intercepted me near the archway. "Finally some downtime," she said, though she knew I wouldn't rest in the way she meant.

"I'll use it," I said with a faint smile. "You'll watch the nursery?"

"Someone has to," she teased, then squeezed my shoulder. "Try not to drown yourself for training."

Ashekan joined us as we reached the long-current ferry. "I'll escort you halfway. Patrols haven't covered the route fully." He spoke simply, as always.

The ride was silent at first. We glided past kelp forests swaying in slow rhythm, the water turning cooler as the city lights faded behind us. Eventually, Ashekan broke the silence.

"When the barrier rose, I felt it even through my armor," he said. "Like swimming in glass."

"The demi-god controlled it so the reef wouldn't crack," I answered. "Guided, not forced."

"You repeat that enough," he said with a rare grin, "and one day people will call you by it."

"Maybe," I said, and we both laughed softly.

At the halfway marker stones, Ashekan slowed. "Clear water from here. Remember, rest is not weakness."

"For me, rest is harder than a spear thrust," I admitted. He laughed once more, then turned back toward the reef.

The island lagoon was wrapped in mist. Vines draped from rocky overhangs, and tidepools glimmered under the pale light of dawn. The barrier shimmered faintly in the distance, but here the water was still, almost unnaturally so. The demi-god waited at the center, crouched on a submerged pillar. His massive eyes reflected the light like twin lanterns.

You came. His voice rolled through the water, not sound but a deep vibration I felt in my bones.

I knelt in the shallow pool. "The reef holds for now. I need to hold with it."

Rise. The current lifted me upright, wrapping around my shoulders. My pearl pulsed with his command.

"Stage two comes with risk," I said. "If the shift ruptures, I bleed out."

Risk is the coin of power. His webbed hand touched the water, sending ripples across the lagoon. You will learn to shape without pearl fatigue. You will feel the current as it moves through you, or you will fail.

He pressed his palm downward, and the water around me compressed. Pressure crushed my chest, forcing my gills wide. I gasped, every vein burning. Then he released me, and the pain faded into a spreading heat.

This is only the beginning. One dive each quarter cycle. Hold pressure. Listen to where current ends and vessel begins.

"I understand."

You claim to guide, not force. Prove it on yourself.

The lagoon floor cracked open, revealing a narrow chute into darkness. Heat and cold mixed below, chaotic bands rising from vents. The demi-god pointed. Go. The path will teach more than I can say.

I dove. Water squeezed the chute tight around my shoulders. I slowed my heart, syncing it to the rhythm of the water. The walls pulsed back, widening enough to let me through. Each kick carried me deeper until faint light from geothermal vents painted the maze below in amber and blue.

The first challenge was endurance. The currents pulled in conflicting directions, forcing me to find balance without tearing myself apart. I shaped a small spiral in my palm, guiding it along a vent stream. It trembled, almost breaking, before steadying into a controlled flow. The demi-god's voice echoed faintly through the water. Better. Again.

The second challenge was precision. Vents spat sudden bursts of heat that scorched scales if I drifted too close. I learned to weave currents around them, guiding the heat away. Every mistake burned, but not enough to scar. The lesson was in pain without fear.

Hours blurred. My body trembled, pearl glowing faint blue-green, veins alive with new energy. By the time I surfaced back in the lagoon, I collapsed onto the coral shelf, gills heaving. The demi-god's eyes watched me silently.

Not enough, he said, but better. Return at the next tide shift.

I bowed my head. "Thank you, Guardian."

Rest now. Without it, training becomes punishment.

I sank back against the coral. Mist curled overhead, wrapping the lagoon in quiet. For the first time in cycles, no alarms echoed behind my ears. The barrier far off shimmered like a promise. I let exhaustion take me, carrying only the sound of moving water and the certainty that the real strength I sought would be earned, not given.

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