The trench route wound downward in a way that felt unnatural, as though something had carved it with intent rather than nature. Every turn bled away more light, and every meter pressed cold into my scales. Ashekan swam ahead with surgical precision, eyes scanning every flicker of movement, but I could sense the unease in the Watchers trailing him. Their blades quivered slightly in their grips, and the glyphbinders behind them murmured incomplete sigils, their light faint and trembling.
The walls were scarred with angular patterns, wounds too clean for coral, shapes too harsh for the sea's natural flow. This was not just a breach; it was a scar carved deliberately to mark a path. Even the reef's hum, the heartbeat we all felt without thinking, had grown faint here. It was as if the reef itself feared to follow us into this place.
We reached the collapsed tunnel. Its mouth yawned like a wound, ringed by unnatural grooves and anchored bolts embedded deep into the stone. My hand brushed one, and I felt a chill where metal had bitten into coral. It was dead to the touch, lifeless and sharp.
Before Ashekan could order a mark, the current shifted, not with the flow of tide, but like a great thing inhaling.
The ambush came like a scream through silence.
Shadows burst from the tunnel, armored figures exploding forward with the force of a collapsing wall. Red glyphlines streaked along their suits, the cores in their chests pulsing faintly where socketed mana organs glowed with a stolen, unnatural life. They didn't announce themselves. They didn't roar. They simply killed.
The first Watcher never had a chance. A gauntlet blade tore through his chestplate, blood blooming like dark ribbons around him. The invader ripped its weapon free and let the body drift. The second Watcher swung wide, only to be slammed aside by the force of another's charge. His scream was swallowed by the water.
I dove into the fray, blade flashing, every muscle tensed. I aimed low, slicing at the joint of one invader's leg. The blade bit but barely, its armor flexed, absorbing most of the strike. The invader turned with mechanical precision, glyph-core pulsing brighter, and lunged with a spear strike that ripped the water apart. I dodged under it, twisting with the current, my tail flicking hard to drive me upward into a counter. My blade scraped across its chest brace, sparks of mana scattering, but the armor healed over the wound in seconds.
They fought like hunters. Intelligent, calculating, every movement designed to trap and kill. They weren't wild creatures, they were engineers of death.
Another figure shot down from the wall, weapon glowing with coiled energy stolen from a grafted organ. Ashekan intercepted it, his blade lighting arcs of blue across the invader's frame. He shouted through the water, voice cutting the chaos, "Flare! Now!"
I triggered the flare glyph. The explosion lit the trench white, the water burning with light. The invaders recoiled, but only for a heartbeat. One raised its spear, launching it like a projectile. It slammed into my side with brutal force, tearing through scale and flesh. Pain erupted like fire, my vision scattering into shards. My blade slipped from my grip. Another shockwave tore the trench, and the current ripped me backward, slamming me into the wall hard enough to crack my shoulder.
The last thing I saw was Ashekan still fighting, his blade bright against the dark, before the current dragged me into nothingness.
I floated, weightless in pain. My blood drifted upward in long ribbons, coiling around me like smoke. My thoughts slowed, scattered. The reef's hum was gone. Only the cold remained, pulling me down. I tried to reach for my flare shard, but my arm wouldn't respond. My breath hitched, and the darkness closed in.
When I opened my eyes, warmth surrounded me. Mist curled thick over my body, glowing faintly where it touched the water. I was half-submerged in a tidepool, the liquid warm, sweet with mana. Coral roots wrapped my wounds, pulsing faintly as they siphoned energy into my veins. Every breath hurt, but it no longer felt like dying.
The jungle rose high around me, vines dripping into the pool, amphibians croaking from the branches. The air shimmered with heat, dense and alive. Every sound felt sharper here, the chirp of insects, the low hum of water moving under stone. It was as though the island itself breathed with me.
And then I felt him.
The Demi-God loomed nearby, his massive body blending into the rock and mist, skin shifting from deep green to black where the fog clung. His vast eye opened, glowing gold, watching me without expression but with a weight that crushed the air.
I tried to rise. Pain flared through my chest, and I collapsed back into the water. The current moved on its own, pressing me gently down.
"You are not ready to stand," the voice vibrated through the water, not in my ears but in my bones.
"I have to return," I rasped, my voice weak.
"You cannot return," the god said calmly, the water pulsing with his words. "Your flesh is torn. Your light dims. You would die."
"They need me," I said bitterly, forcing my hands against the rock, only to be pushed back again by the current.
"You were brought here because you were needed," the god said, "but not by them. Not yet. You were guided. The god of Creation moves in ways even I do not see. You were chosen to pass through water deeper than death."
I had no strength to argue. My body trembled, and my vision blurred.
"Rest," the god ordered, and warmth wrapped around me like the tide, pulling me into stillness.
Healing was not sleep, it was a ritual. The god's presence filled every moment, the mist bending with his breath, the water shaping itself to hold me when I could not hold myself. Days blurred as he taught without words. The current itself became my teacher, shaping me as it coiled and struck, forcing me to move when I was ready and to be still when I was not.
"You must feel before you shape," the god's voice echoed. "The current remembers. It will not obey unless you listen."
I closed my eyes and let the water speak. For the first time, I felt it, the threads of mana flowing through life itself, weaving through the current like veins. I reached for it, and it slipped. I tried again, slower, and the current curled faintly into my palm.
Training became harsh. He shifted the water violently, forcing me to hold against it, to bend without breaking. He drained it suddenly, leaving me gasping, forcing me to pull moisture through my gills with sheer will. I nearly suffocated once, choking as the mist dissapated. The god did not intervene. Only when I summoned the flow myself did the water return.
Each success fed the pulsing glow within me. Each failure burned like fire.
One night, the Exiles came. Cloaked, silent, carrying bundles of sacred fruit. They knelt at the mist's edge, placing offerings on the stone. They never looked at me, and I remained still, hidden in the god's shadow. The mist curled, lifting the fruit and dissolving it into glimmering droplets that sank into the inner pool. The god accepted in silence.
"They still serve life," he said quietly, the current vibrating with his words.
Even in exile, they still believed.
The training changed when he decided I was ready. The water no longer just resisted me, it responded. I shaped currents into spirals, held them as spheres, bent them around my arms until they shimmered with light. Each time, I stored the energy in my chest, the pulse growing stronger.
Then came the final trial.
"You are ready," he said as the mist tightened, swirling like a storm. "Now, you will hold."
The current surged, crushing from all sides. My chest screamed, my body convulsed as heat erupted from within. The water pierced through me, flooding my veins with raw power. Pain tore me apart; every muscle burned, every bone vibrated as if splitting. I screamed, my gills spasming, vision fracturing into white fire. The heat in my chest erupted, forming something new.
The agony stretched endless, and then it broke.
I collapsed, trembling, the water trembling with me. My chest glowed faintly, and I felt it, my mana organ, alive, syncing with the current.
"You have evolved," the god said softly.
I rose days later, trembling but strong. The water no longer resisted me. It flowed to my palm, spiraling without glyphs, answering my will. The god watched, silent and steady.
"You were brought here not by chance," he said finally. "The god who made you has not let you go. But now, you are mine to shape."
In the water's reflection, I thought I saw something, flashes of fire burning across reefs, invader silhouettes moving like shadows. A storm rising.
The god's voice rumbled low. "Your path will drown or rise. Choose."