The scream of metal reached the ruins before the collapse did.
It rolled downward through stone and water alike, a tortured shriek that vibrated through the drowned city and into Kael's bones. Dust burst from the corridor ceilings. Bioluminescent veins flickered wildly, dimming and flaring as if the ruins themselves were panicking.
"The chain," the woman said sharply. "One of the primaries."
Kael felt it too—a deep, wrong tension, like a tendon stretched past its limit. The relic in his hand pulsed violently, heat surging up his arm.
Above them, the hanging world was breaking.
They ran.
The corridor sloped upward, spiraling toward a maintenance shaft that pierced the ruins and rose toward the platforms above. As they moved, the stone beneath their feet trembled, cracks racing along walls carved by hands that had never imagined this moment.
Another scream tore through the depths.
Then came the impact.
The water ceiling above the ruins bulged violently as if struck from below by something immense. Pressure rippled outward, slamming Kael into the wall. He gasped, lungs seizing as the air pocket thinned.
"The sea's pushing," he shouted.
"No," the woman replied grimly. "It's pulling."
They burst into the shaft chamber just as a thunderous crack split the air.
Far above, beyond layers of stone and suspended water, a primary sky-chain fractured.
Not severed.
Fractured.
The consequences were immediate.
The city of Tareth lurched hard to the west. Entire platforms tilted. Buildings screamed as supports tore loose. Screams echoed down through the shaft as people lost footing and slid toward open edges.
Kael's vision swam as the chain's vibration intensified, traveling down through every connected anchor.
Including the living ones.
Erynd screamed.
The sound tore through Kael's mind—not a voice, but raw agony transmitted through the chain network itself. The crystal core below shattered further, fractures racing outward like lightning through ice.
The woman froze, eyes wide. "If the fracture spreads—"
"The anchors will fail," Kael finished. "All of them."
Another tremor hit.
This time, something gave.
Above the sea, chaos reigned.
The fractured chain twisted violently, iron links grinding against one another as ancient stress redistributed across the network. Secondary chains snapped in rapid succession, whipping free and tearing through lower platforms like blades.
Entire districts began to descend.
Not falling.
Sliding.
Slowly, inexorably, toward the ocean.
The bells rang again—continuous now, frantic. Orders dissolved into screams. Prayers turned desperate, incoherent.
The sea surged upward, not to swallow, but to receive.
Below, Kael braced himself as the shaft shook violently. Water forced its way through microfractures in the barrier, dripping like cold sweat from the ceiling.
The woman grabbed his arm. "We can stabilize it—temporarily."
"How?" Kael demanded.
She met his gaze, grim resolve hardening her features. "By reinforcing the fracture."
"With what?" he snapped.
Her eyes flicked to the relic.
"With memory."
Kael's heart pounded. "You said land destabilizes the balance."
"It does," she said. "But so does truth. The chains were fed sacrifice to make them hold. Land reminds them of what they were meant to protect."
Another violent jolt threw them both to the ground. The shaft groaned, stone screaming as ancient supports began to shear.
"We're out of time," she said.
Kael clenched his jaw and ran.
He sprinted toward the edge of the shaft where the chain descended into the ruins, its massive links vibrating violently. Heat radiated from the metal now, glowing faintly red as stress accumulated.
Below, Erynd's presence thrashed wildly against the crystal.
It is breaking, the anchor's voice echoed faintly. The sea is exploiting the weakness.
Kael leapt onto the chain.
The impact nearly tore his arms from their sockets. He slid several meters before managing to hook his blade into a seam between links. Sparks flew as metal screamed against steel.
"Kael!" the woman shouted. "If you fall—"
"I won't," he said through clenched teeth.
He pressed the relic against the chain.
The effect was instantaneous.
The metal recoiled.
Not physically—but conceptually. The vibration shifted pitch, dropping from a scream to a deep, resonant hum. The glowing heat dimmed, replaced by a strange, earthen warmth that spread along the link beneath his palm.
Above, the fractured chain slowed its descent.
People screamed in confusion as the sliding platforms jerked, then stilled.
For a single breath, the city held.
Kael felt the sea react.
Not with anger.
With focus.
A presence surged upward through the chain, pressing against him, testing the intrusion. Pressure crushed his chest. His vision darkened at the edges.
You remind us, the sea whispered, its voice layered and vast. Of a promise broken.
Kael gritted his teeth. "Then remember this," he whispered back.
He pushed the relic harder into the metal.
The chain cracked.
A hairline fracture spread outward from the point of contact, branching like lightning across the link's surface. The hum shifted again—unstable now, discordant.
The woman stared in horror. "You're not stabilizing it!"
"I know," Kael said, voice shaking. "I'm changing it."
Above, the fractured primary chain released a thunderous groan as the stress redistributed away from the living anchors and into the physical structure itself.
The city lurched again—but this time, it rose slightly, buoyed by a sudden, unnatural resistance in the chain network.
The sea roared.
Not triumph.
Fury.
A massive surge slammed upward against the platforms, waves exploding against pylons and lower districts. Water flooded secondary levels, dragging people screaming into the depths.
But the chain did not fail.
Not completely.
Kael released the relic and dropped from the chain, crashing hard onto the stone below. Pain exploded through his shoulder. He barely felt it.
The shaft fell silent except for distant screams and the low, wounded groan of iron.
The woman rushed to him, hauling him upright. "You fractured it on purpose," she said, disbelief thick in her voice.
"Yes," Kael replied hoarsely. "Because now it can't carry sacrifice the same way."
Below them, Erynd's presence steadied.
You have altered the equation, the anchor said, awe threading the words. The chain now remembers land.
Kael stared upward, heart pounding.
"What happens next?" he asked.
The woman looked toward the trembling ceiling, where water and stone struggled to hold their shape.
"Next," she said grimly, "the Orders realize the chains can be changed."
Another distant crack echoed across the depths.
"And they will come for you."
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
Above him, the hanging world swayed.
Below him, the sea watched.
And somewhere deep within the chains, the first true weakness had been born.