The Abyss didn't let me sleep. All night, images of the leviathan, Joran's torn suit, and Dax's imploded body swirled in my mind, shadows refusing to fade. I'm lying on my bunk in the *Silver Star* submarine, the hum of the engines vibrating through the steel walls. The others are sleeping, or pretending to. Mira, sitting in a corner, cleans her plasma lance with obsessive precision, her eyes fixed on the weapon as if it holds all the answers. Taro, leaning against a wall, sharpens his vibrating blade, the rhythmic scraping echoing in the cabin. Soren, curled up on his bunk, mutters numbers, his fingers nervously tapping the screen on his wrist. Kaelin and Vora, the veterans, are absent, likely in the engine room checking the submarine's condition. Lira, our leader, is nowhere to be seen. She's probably in the cockpit, planning the next dive. The next dive. The thought alone twists my stomach.
Yesterday, I survived my first descent into the Abyss at 500 meters, where we retrieved an azure gem at the cost of two lives. Today, we're going deeper, to 800 meters, to find a runic sphere, an ancient artifact said to control ocean currents. The briefings claim it's a relic from a forgotten civilization, a technology so advanced it could stabilize the storms ravaging the floating cities. But the Abyss gives nothing for free. Lira warned us: each depth is more dangerous, the monsters more vicious, the pressure more crushing. Our hydrodynamic suits, light as a second skin, are at their limit at this depth. A single scratch, and it's over.
I stand, unable to stay still. My suit, stored in a locker, seems to stare at me, its seams glinting under the submarine's dim light. I run my fingers over its smooth surface, checking every stitch. It's intact, but I can't help picturing Joran, his cracked helmet, his scream cut short by the pressure. I shake my head, trying to banish the image. "You're thinking too much, kid," a voice says behind me. It's Mira, as cold as ever, her plasma lance resting on her shoulder. "The Abyss smells fear. Don't give it the satisfaction." I nod, but her words don't reassure me. She's right, though. If I let fear take over, I won't survive this dive.
Lira appears in the doorway, her face hard as steel. "Get ready. We dive in one hour. Depth: 800 meters. Target: the runic sphere." Her voice is a blade, leaving no room for discussion. Soren pales, his fingers freezing on his screen. Taro sheathes his blade, his gaze calm but resolute. Kaelin and Vora return, already in their suits, their faces impassive. We're down to five now, our team diminished by the loss of Joran and Dax. No one speaks of the dead. It's an unspoken rule in the Abyss: keep moving, or die.
The airlock opens, and icy water engulfs us again. At 800 meters, the darkness is thicker, almost tangible, as if the Abyss swallows light itself. Our headlamps struggle to pierce the gloom, revealing fragments of a strange world: twisted corals, glowing algae swaying like specters, rocks etched with patterns I can't decipher. The pressure is heavier here, a constant weight making my suit hum. The sensors on my wrist flash orange, warning that we're nearing the equipment's tolerance limit. Every movement is slower, more laborious, as if the water resists our presence.
Lira leads us toward an underwater cave, a gaping maw in the canyon wall. The walls shimmer with a green glow, as if gems are embedded in the stone. "The sphere's in there," she says through the comms, her voice distorted by the water. "Stay sharp. At this depth, the monsters aren't just strong. They're smart." I grip my plasma lance, my hands sweaty under the gloves. Soren swims beside me, his breathing uneven in the comms. "It'll be okay," I tell him, more to reassure myself than him. He doesn't answer.
Inside the cave, the Abyss changes. The water feels warmer, almost alive, and the walls pulse as if breathing. At the center, on a coral altar, the runic sphere glows with a silvery light, its engravings dancing under our headlamps. It's beautiful, but something in me screams not to approach it. Before Lira can give an order, a rumble shakes the cave. The water swirls, and a creature emerges from the darkness: a giant eel, at least thirty meters long, its multiple jaws opening like wolf traps. Its scales reflect our lights like shattered mirrors, and its eyes—six red orbs—fix on us with terrifying intelligence.
"Wedge formation!" Lira shouts. We regroup, but the eel is fast, too fast. It twists, its sinuous body grazing the cave walls. Mira fires, her plasma bolts tracing blue arcs through the water. The eel dodges, its jaws snapping inches from Taro. He counters with his vibrating blade, slicing off a jaw that sinks in a cloud of black blood. But the creature doesn't slow. It coils around Soren, its rings tightening around his suit. He screams, a sound that chills my blood. "Help me!" he cries, but Lira orders us to hold position.
I fire, aiming for the eyes, but the eel is too agile. Kaelin and Vora flank it, their plasma lances lighting up the cave. The eel releases Soren, but not out of mercy. It charges Mira, who barely dodges, her suit grazed by a razor-sharp tooth. An alarm blares in her comms: a tear. "It'll hold," she growls, but her voice shakes. Taro dives again, his blade humming at full power. He slices a segment of the eel's body, but it retaliates, coiling around him. He screams, but his suit holds—for now.
Lira takes charge. "Kaël, cover Soren! Mira, right flank! Kaelin, Vora, with me!" We fight like demons, the water boiling around us.