The water hammered at my body as the implosion's shock wave swallowed us whole. Veshra and I clung to a fractured conduit plate, the force dragging us like driftwood caught in a storm. Silt boiled into a black cloud, debris spun past too fast to see. Every pull of water through my gills felt jagged, and the taste of iron coated my tongue. The mana organ in my chest throbbed under the strain, each beat flaring with warmth that fought against the cold crushing in around us.
The current bucked again. My grip slipped, sending me tumbling through the opaque churn. I twisted my tail, caught the edge of a rock face, and pushed off hard until I found Veshra's pale cloak glowing faintly ahead. We didn't need words; survival left no room for them. Together we let the wave carry us, kicking only to steer clear of the worst whirlpools.
When at last the surge eased, the silence felt wrong, heavy with residue. The southern ridge loomed ahead, its once-proud spires fractured and slumped, dust clouds of coral grit drifting upward like smoke. Emergency lights pulsed blue across the reef face, each beacon an unspoken cry: we still live.
I tasted the damage in the current before I saw it. Nursery Dome Two listed badly, one side buried in rubble. Glassy panels spider-webbed with cracks, and dozens of hatchling pods drifted free, spinning helpless in the current. Caretakers darted among them, shouting prayers and commands, their voices shaking the water.
"They won't reach them all in time," Veshra said, her voice low, already moving.
Exhaustion dragged at my limbs, yet I followed. The pods were so small, each life inside a fragile flicker. I forced my breathing slow, feeling for the current's natural bend. I didn't try to seize it, only coaxed it into shape. Water curved around my hands, slipping into spiral channels that swept pods toward the collection net. The ache in my chest deepened, a warning pulse, but I kept the flow steady. One pod brushed my fingers, trembling. I guided it to safety, then collapsed against a coral strut, breath ragged.
Veshra was everywhere at once, barking orders to pale-cloaked Exile scouts who swept in to ferry wounded Shellguards to triage. For the first time, I saw Reef and Exile hands working side by side without hesitation. Gratitude flickered across wary faces.
Above, the beacon tower's light shifted from amber to deep blue. The color bled across every corridor and path, a signal to all: aftershock emergency. The reef was battered, but not broken.
The council hall was chaos. Floodwater rose to my waist, vents hissed, and shattered murals floated among elders who argued in sharp voices. Some demanded retreat to the island tide pools, sealing off damaged walls to save what remained. Others shouted for retaliation, insisting deeper drills must be destroyed before the Lithari restarted them.
Commander Vonn ended the shouting with a single motion, slamming my telemetry shard onto a projector. Runes bloomed above the water, maps glowing in the haze: three dormant drills deeper than the one we had disabled, linked by echo-core conduits still intact.
"The outer drills are dead," Vonn said, voice rough but unshaken. "But the threat remains. If they repair these power channels, they will cut to our heart in less than two tides."
The silence that followed was colder than the trench. Eyes turned toward the Exile delegates, some suspicious, others considering. Veshra stood unflinching, cloak torn and streaked with soot. An artisan elder hissed, "And if they betray us?"
Veshra's gaze hardened, yet her voice stayed calm. "Your city still stands because we intercepted shadow spawn on the bloom shelf. We bleed for the same reef." The room quieted. Even those who distrusted her had no answer.
Adrenaline drained from me once I left the hall. Healer-binders pulled me into a triage alcove where soft blue and green lamps swayed. Their coil threads wrapped around my torso, sealing hairline fractures radiating from my mana organ. Pain lanced under my scales, sharp as glass, but slowly dulled as salve seeped in. Each pull of water through my gills stung, then cooled.
Lying there, I felt the weight of what I'd done. The shock wave had saved the reef, yet it had cracked spires and scattered children. Balance, the Demi-God had told me, was not won by raw force. I wondered if I had tilted the scale too far.
Mist seeped under the curtain, curling into the alcove. It coiled around me, and from it a shape emerged—half there, half not. Golden eyes met mine, unblinking.
"Creation's song is fragile," the Demi-God said, his voice not in the water but inside my chest. "You fought with fire. Now you must learn to heal with water."
"I almost lost control," I admitted, voice trembling. "The core wanted me."
"It tested you," he replied. "And you endured." The mist shimmered, and something rolled from its folds into my hand—a small pearl, blue-green swirls dancing in its depths. "Press this between hearts when exhaustion claims you. It will anchor the current, but only if you guide, not command."
Before I could answer, the mist thinned, fading back into airless silence. The pearl glowed softly in my palm. I tucked it close, the weight of its promise settling deep.
By evening the vents hissed slower. Water still tasted of grit, but life hummed again, hesitant yet persistent. Yera found me at the shattered practice ground, her tail still bandaged but her eyes burning. Behind her, the wounded Watcher rested, alive thanks to our reckless gamble.
Mixed ranks of Shellguards and Exile scouts gathered among cracked pylons. They stood apart at first, lines rigid, banners frayed where they hung, but they had come. That mattered more than ceremony.
"First lesson," I said, stepping into the center. My voice carried across broken stone. "We guide water, we do not wrench it." I lifted a hand, coaxing a spiral shield that curved smooth and clear. "Feel its path, then let it follow you."
They mimicked me, hands trembling. Spirals flickered to life, some neat, others wild. A young Shellguard pushed too hard. His shield snapped into a spear that spun uncontrolled toward an Exile. Instinct burned through fatigue. I caught the spear mid-spin, dissolving it into harmless eddies. Pain lanced my chest, but the pearl at my belt pulsed, steadying the backlash. The boy stared, wide-eyed.
"It will happen," I said softly. "Mistakes teach faster than lectures." Shame melted from his eyes, replaced by determination.
We drilled until the sky darkened above, lamps deepening to violet. Every cast drained me, yet each blended current between Reef and Exile felt like a small victory.
An hour after nightfall, a patrol glyph flared red. Yera and I followed the scouts to the fractured wall beyond the bloom troughs. Stone vibrated under my hand. A faint knock echoed through basalt, rhythmic, patient, like a giant's heartbeat.
"Lithari engineers," Yera murmured, her fin edges sharp with tension. "Testing pressure on dormant shafts."
I pressed my palm flat, letting the tremor crawl up my arm. My gill arches twitched at the slow, deliberate pulse. The drills were silent, yet the enemy still breathed below. Behind us, reef lights trembled, their glow fragile against the dark.
The hatchling's face came to my mind, tiny hand against glass. I curled my fingers into a fist around the pearl, feeling its cool surface. The trench whispered again, deep and steady.
"The reef survived," I said quietly, eyes fixed on the shadows, "but this reprieve is only a breath."
The water held still for a moment. Then, from far below, the pulse came again, slow and certain, like a challenge waiting for me in the dark.
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