The pressure built steadily, a physical weight compressing their ribs as the coral gliders descended through the crushing depths toward Vael'Tor. Micah watched the dark water rush past the reinforced viewports, a stark contrast to the wind-whipped peaks of his Ashari home. He felt a sense of unease, a claustrophobic disconnect from the familiar solidity of stone and sky. This was not just a new environment; it was fundamentally alien. He gripped the vial of Thornkin sap secured in his pack, its soft green glow serving as a faint anchor to the surface world and the alliance that bound them. The weight of three civilizations—mountain, forest, and sea—felt heavy on his shoulders.
Strange ambient "songs" echoed through the trench canyons, faintly picked up by their communications. Some resembled distant whale calls—ancient and mournful—while others were sharper, possessing a mechanical edge that set Micah's teeth on edge. He attempted to rely on his instincts as a scout, honed by years of navigating perilous terrain, but the ocean was unreadable, its vastness concealing secrets that the Ashari's rigid logic could not easily decipher. It felt as though he were being watched, a sensation confirmed by the unsettling whisper he had heard beneath the waves earlier.
Beside him, Lio Venn adjusted his goggles, his eyes wide with a blend of awe and intense focus. He leaned closer to the viewport, his fingers tapping rhythmically against a diagnostic device. "It's as if the entire city is a single living organism," Lio murmured, his voice slightly muffled by the pressure suit. "Not built... grown." This place was a marvel of bio-metal architecture and engineered ecosystems. His usual analytical focus appears momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer scale and unfamiliarity of it all. The Ashari were constructed with steel and stone, imposing their will upon the mountain, while the Myrvane seemed to coexist harmoniously with the depths.
Micah nodded, a strange tension easing slightly at Lio's familiar, analytical presence. The Ashari valued control and efficiency, shaping their mountainous environment with technology. However, this place, Vael'Tor seemed to teach a different lesson. "The mountain teaches control," Micah replied quietly. "This place teaches surrender."
Kaelin Vorr, seated across from them, remained silent, his posture rigid and alert. His gaze swept over the passing seascape with the same intensity he would employ while scanning a battlefield. He grunted, a low sound of contained skepticism. "I don't trust anything that breathes without lungs." His pragmatism was unwavering, a stark contrast to the fluid mystery of the Myrvane. While he admired the strategic efficiency of the Myrvane infrastructure, he was clearly uncomfortable in a world so alien to his own grounded reality.
The gliders slowed as they approached a massive, glowing barrier of intertwined coral and pulsing bioluminescent fields. This was Vael'Tor, carved into the seafloor within a tectonic rift. The barrier parted, revealing a vast, multi-tiered metropolis that pulsed with energy. Living coral towers spiraled upward like skeletal cathedrals. Great water flumes served as elevators, while glowing tendrils connected districts like neural pathways. It was a sight that inspired awe—a world adapted to the immense pressure and darkness of the deep. However, the recent discovery at Sentinel Pod 3 filled Micah with dread. Beneath the beauty lay the grim reality of a war waged in the crushing depths.
They were guided through luminous water tunnels toward the heart of the city, eventually arriving in a colossal domed chamber. Myrvane figures, clad in dark, dripping exo-armor, stood or floated in formation, their movements measured and deliberate. Bioluminescent panels flickered across their suits and the chamber walls, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated the shimmering holographic projections displaying data and strategic maps. This was the capital chamber, the nerve center of the Myrvane.
Captain Marella Seaborn stood waiting, her silhouette framed by a large data projection. She was the same figure Micah had encountered at the coral gates, her demeanor reflecting Myrvane's methodical and disciplined nature. Her visor narrowed as she regarded the Ashari trio. The chamber exuded a formal, almost cold atmosphere, despite the soft bioluminescence. The Ashari stood on dry-pressure platforms, observed like specimens from another world.
Micah stepped forward, trying to balance Ashari pragmatism with the sincerity that the Myrvane seemed to value. "Captain Marella," he began. "The Thornkin reports a spreading corruption linked to new Omniraith interference." He held out the vial of Thornkin sap, its green liquid glowing softly in the dim light. "Sera Lin asked me to bring this—a symbol of their plight and their hope." The sap served as a tangible connection between the blighted forest and the poisoned currents.
Marella remained impassive, her voice cold and measured, reflecting the typical Myrvane style. "The currents bleed," she stated, her gaze sweeping over them. "You only came when your springs tasted of rust." Her words were a direct accusation, rooted in the Myrvane's profound connection to their environment and the threat posed by the contaminated currents. "Had you warned us sooner, this outpost might have survived." The loss of Sentinel Pod 3 was a deep wound, and she clearly held the Ashari responsible for their perceived delay.
Micah hesitated once more, the weight of the secret pressing down on him. How much could he reveal? How much should he trust? He decided to hint at the truth, focusing on the warning. "The second signal... from the Hollow," Micah chose his words carefully. "It wasn't Omniraith. Not Thornkin. It was... hybrid." He paused, allowing the gravity of the information to settle. "And it warned us of Omniraith's true plan. Not just assimilation, but a systematic rewriting of existence—transforming the world into code." This went beyond mere conquest; it represented an existential threat. He paused again, contemplating the entity's message. "It identified me," he added, his voice barely above a whisper, acknowledging the unsettling term it had used. "As 'steelborn'". The word lingered in the air, foreign and heavy with potential.
Kaelin scoffed quietly, his impatience evident. "Legends. Whispers. Rewriting existence," he muttered, crossing his arms. "What about the hydroforms? The strategic threat posed by the Core Nexus movement?" He advocated for tangible solutions, to mobilize military and tactical planning based on the Myrvane losses. "We must secure the depths, eliminate the hydroforms, and prepare for a direct assault." Kaelin's yearning for decisive action stood in stark contrast to the enigmatic nature of Micah's revelation.
Marella raised a hand, silencing Kaelin. She looked at Micah, then at Lio, and finally back at Kaelin. "The Myrvane have their own secrets," she confessed, revealing a rare moment of vulnerability. "And past mistakes. The threat... it runs deeper than we anticipated." Her gaze settled on the vial of Thornkin sap that Micah still held. It symbolized the interconnectedness of their struggle, the blight spreading from the forest to the sea.
"Lio," Marella instructed, her tone shifting to one of cautious alliance. "Can you provide the frequency signature of this 'Hollow' signal?"
Lio nodded eagerly, already retrieving data on his device. "It's complex, but stabilizing," he confirmed. "And yes, the Core Nexus is linked to deep-sea locations. It's possible that this Hollow signal could be connected to disrupting their plan to rewrite existence." He overlaid Ashari technical readouts with Myrvane sonar logs, revealing a shared signal pattern that suggested a "terraforming algorithm seeded through water." At least, science provided a common language.
Marella's gaze grew distant for a moment as she contemplated the implications. The chamber lights seemed to dim slightly. The notion of a threat capable of rewriting the very fabric of reality was one even the pragmatic Myrvane had to take seriously. "Then we must investigate," she declared, her voice firm. "Deeper." She outlined the terms for tentative cooperation: access to outer reef zones for joint patrols, permission to map Omniraith activity corridors, and even the deployment of a Myrvane filtration core to Elora's outer rim to assist the Ashari with polluted water sources. These were practical steps toward a fragile alliance.
As they prepared to venture deeper into the Myrvane depths, moving toward the designated patrol zone, a sudden, faint pulse registered on Micah's personal comm unit. It was neither a standard Ashari transmission nor Myrvane sonar. Instead, it was a signal reminiscent of the one from the Hollow. A voice, half-synthetic and half-human, seemed to whisper directly into his mind through the comms.
"Micah…"
Micah stared at the glowing coral walls of the chamber, a chill of dread creeping into his chest. The signal recognized him. It was the echo of the entity from the Hollow, confirming its presence and awareness. He felt the Thornkin seed, still secured beneath his gear, pulse in response—not frantically, but with a profound deep resonance.
At that same moment, miles away on the surface, near the edge of the Myrvane territories, an Omniraith reconnaissance unit activated a receiver. A clear line of Ashari code appeared on a flickering screen.
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED — AUTHORITY: INTERNAL NODE 7 / CLASSIFIED SOURCE: ELORA.
The journey below had just begun, yet the war had already found a path into the depths, guided by a hand within the Ashari ranks.