The following morning brought no sunrise—only more rain.
The storm's rhythm was constant now, a heartbeat too steady to be natural.
From the temple's balcony, the ocean stretched outward like living glass. The sea's color shifted faintly between emerald and indigo, pulsing to the same tempo as the drops that fell. The world seemed to be breathing—slow, deep, deliberate.
Skuld stood at the edge, peering down into the floodwaters that now reached the base of the cliffs. "It's like the whole world's waiting for something," she said.
Kurai, standing behind her, adjusted the gloves on her hands. "This world isn't waiting. It's dying or decaying. Take your pick. We're just seeing it happen slowly here."
"Do you always have to be gloomy?" Skuld countered. "The ocean feels alive, so this world is alive."
"It's water," Kurai said. "It reflects whatever nonsense you pour into it."
Skuld smiled faintly. "Then it's reflecting your nonsense, too."
Kurai's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
By midday, they were back at the docks.
The water had darkened again, carrying faint violet streaks that pulsed like veins under the surface. The chief stood nearby, wringing his hands but saying nothing as Skuld and Kurai prepared.
Skuld fastened her charm necklace and looked over her shoulder. "You sure you're ready for this? We might have to go into the water."
"I'm not here for a swim," Kurai said. "Just don't drown before we find what's down there."
"Thanks, that's… comforting," Skuld smirked. "Try not to sink the ocean."
They stepped off together—Skuld diving gracefully, Kurai simply walking forward as shadows wrapped around her like a second skin. The rain hit the surface once, then vanished above as the world below swallowed them.
Light fractured into shifting emerald bands. The water wasn't cold—it pulsed with memory.
Each movement sent ripples of faint emotion through the currents: laughter, sorrow, lullabies. It was like swimming through the remnants of dreams.
Kurai floated beside Skuld, the dark folds of her coat twisting unnaturally yet keeping her stable. "This place is saturated with feeling. It's sick."
Skuld brushed a hand across the coral wall nearby. It glowed beneath her touch. "It's unnerving when there's so much."
"These feelings drag others down so they can rot down here."
Something flickered in the distance—a faint gleam, then a shimmer of movement. Skuld gestured, and the two swam toward it.
The seabed opened into an underwater trench lined with bioluminescent coral veins. Each glowed faintly green, pulsing like a heartbeat. Faint carvings marked the walls—symbols of hands cradling spirals, the mark of Te Fiti that the elder showed them before.
"This must have been a temple of some kind," Skuld murmured.
Kurai drifted ahead, hand outstretched, shadow magic probing the darkness. "No Heartless yet. Maybe something's suppressing them here."
"Maybe it's sacred ground."
"Or a trap."
The ground trembled.
At first, Skuld thought it was another current. Then the coral veins dimmed, one after another, until the entire trench turned black.
Something moved below—a shape enormous and slow. Chains scraped across the ocean floor.
When the thing rose, Skuld's stomach turned.
It was a Brinewretch—a massive barnacle-encrusted Heartless whose arms were made of anchor chains and coral plating. Its eyes burned red through layers of coral growth, and the black sigil pulsed across its chest. Pieces of shipwrecks hung tangled in its body, as if it had built itself from lost prayers.
"Heartless!" Skuld shouted, summoning her keyblade.
Kurai only smirked. "Finally, something worth killing."
The Brinewretch roared, shaking the entire trench. Bubbles burst upward like thunder underwater. Its arm lashed out, anchor chains snapping toward them. Skuld parried the first swing, the impact sending her spinning backward. Kurai darted behind it, shadow trails distorting the light around her.
Her blade of condensed darkness slashed through one of its limbs, but the creature only grew larger—absorbing the silt and debris around it. The sea itself seemed to strengthen it.
"It's drawing power from the ocean!" Skuld called, forming a bright sphere of light magic in her palm. "If it's feeding on memory, then—"
"Then erase it," Kurai said.
Skuld hurled the sphere forward. It exploded in a burst of pale light, illuminating the trench like lightning. The Brinewretch recoiled, screaming as fragments of glowing coral shattered from its body. Kurai followed up, thrusting her shadow blade into the creature's chest.
For a brief moment, the ocean went still. Then the Heartless dissolved, breaking apart into drifting shards of barnacle and darkness.
The trench glowed again, faintly this time—as though the world exhaled.
Kurai sheathed her weapon. "That wasn't normal Heartless behavior."
"No," Skuld said softly. "It was… feeding on the grieving gathered here."
Kurai turned to her sharply. "What? Heartless can sense dark emotions, but without a heart, they should be unable to feed on them."
Skuld pointed to the ruins around them. "These carvings—it was once a guardian statue. A protector of the sea. The Heartless didn't just appear here—they were summoned to this temple."
Kurai's gaze lingered on the ruined coral pillars. "Then this world has become a feeding ground for heartless that can feed on memories."
As they swam deeper through the now-stabilized current, the trench opened into a vast chasm lit by the faint green glow of something pulsing at its core.
At first, Skuld thought it was just a crystal vein. Then it shifted, alive, the glow beating rhythmically.
"I feel energy similar to the Heart from Atlantis," she breathed. "I wonder if it has any connection to Te Fiti's heart."
Kurai's eyes narrowed. "No… it's weaker, so maybe just a crystal with residual energy. The real thing would be overwhelming."
They hovered silently, collecting some samples of the crystal as it might come in handy. Then, a faint singing drifted through the water—soft and wordless, like a lullaby underwater.
"Do you hear that?" Skuld whispered.
"I hear the sound of something that wants to be found," Kurai said flatly. "And something else that doesn't want us here."
Before Skuld could answer, the coral around them began to shimmer—faint lights forming the shapes of lanterns.
Then the lights opened their eyes.
Dozens of Lanternshrouds emerged, their hollow bodies filled with drifting souls of light. Each pulsed with warmth, almost comforting—until they split apart, forming a web of illusions.
Suddenly, Skuld found herself alone. The water grew still, Kurai's silhouette vanishing.
"Not again," Skuld muttered, readying her keyblade.
One of the Lanternshrouds floated close, glowing like a star. It spoke in a voice eerily familiar—Aqua's.
"Skuld," it whispered. "You were never meant to survive this. Just let go."
Her heart clenched, but she struck through the illusion, light shattering like glass. The world fractured back into reality—Lanternshrouds swarming, their warmth turning cold. Skuld fought in a blur of silver and teal until Kurai's shadow magic sliced through the last of them, dispelling the illusion entirely.
The trench fell silent once more. The glow of the Heart's echo remained steady.
"You okay?" Kurai asked.
Skuld nodded, her expression solemn. "They used Aqua's voice."
"That's what they do," Kurai said. "They take what hurts and use it."
Skuld glanced down into the abyss, where the faint green light pulsed again, steady as a heartbeat. "What did it sound like for you?"
Kurai looked at her coldly. "Helios."