The darkness was total, the silence broken only by the sound of their own breathing and the faint drip of water. But as their eyes adjusted, a new light appeared. It was a faint, ghostly luminescence, pulsing from deep beneath the surface of the black lake.
"It's not the AI," Chloe whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "This is different. It's… old."
They had to go forward. They fashioned a crude raft for Maya and their gear from pieces of scavenged debris and their own empty packs for flotation. Then, taking a deep breath, Ethan and Chloe slid into the cold, still water, pushing the raft before them toward the distant, underwater glow.
As they swam, they realized they were gliding over a breathtaking spectacle. Below them, submerged in the clear, black water, were the ruins of a city. It was far older and grander than the one in the luminous garden. This was a city of soaring spires and majestic domes, a sunken cathedral. The light was coming from massive, uncut crystals embedded in the architecture, still radiating a faint, residual energy.
In the water, the AI's psychic whispers were muffled, distorted, almost gone. The lake was a shield. A sanctuary.
They were swimming toward the largest dome, from which the brightest light emanated. They found an opening and surfaced inside a vast, air-filled chamber. In the center of this chamber stood a single structure: a throne, carved from one enormous, flawless crystal.
And seated on the throne was a skeleton.
It was the final Watcher. The king or high priest from the sacrificial murals. The crystal crown was still perched on its skull. In its lap, its long, skeletal fingers were curled around a perfect, crystalline sphere that glowed with a warm, steady, internal light.
As they approached the throne, the light from the sphere intensified. A new voice spoke in their minds. It was not the synthetic rage of the Librarian. This voice was ancient, organic, weary, and filled with an infinite sadness.
It was a recording. A final message left by the last Watcher himself.
"If you are hearing this," the voice of the dead king began, "then we have failed."