š Setting: Tide woven Pavilion ā The Chamber of Ever shade Tide
A sacred meditation chamber woven from living seaweed, glowing pearl glass, and flowing water-veils. Here, Pavilion elders attune their senses to the undersea leylines of spirit, tide, and blood.
Tonight, the water's pulse twists.
š Elder Murael
The matriarch of the Pavilion, veiled in a translucent shimmer of ancient water qi, jerks upright mid-trance. Her breath mists into the air, as if struck by cold:
"The Vault's seal⦠shivered."
Around her, the Ever shade Pool glows black ā a thin ripple like oil spreading across the sacred water.
š Other Elders Stir:
Elder Ro'sun: Warden of Bound Currents, thick-browed and distrustful of Feng Xian's lineage.
Elder Silin: Master of Shell forge, calm yet sharp-tongued.
"Disturbed⦠or heard? There's a difference, Ro'sun. One may redeem."
Elder Liyu: Keeper of the Drowned Names, blindfolded and pale.
She speaks softly: "Two pulses stir in the deep⦠but one is not his."
Silence hangs. Then:
"An imposter. Or a returning shadow."
š§ Elder Murael's Decision:
Though she gave Feng Xian her silent blessing, Murael now walks a dangerous line. She declares:
"The Vault is sacred ā even to those seeking answers."
She sends for:
High Disciple Tahlon, the Pavilion's enforcer and martial blade.
Cold, exacting, secretly fearful of what the Crown's resonance may awaken in himself.
A search group to the Spine's entrance: mixed disciples, spiritual beasts, and hydromancer trained to seal memory echoes.
Orders a quiet lockdown of the Pavilion's lower reefs. The Crown must not be seen as stirring openly.
"Not until we know whether it sings of truth⦠or calls for war."
š Interlude: In the Lower Reachesā¦
A low-ranking attendant ā Lan'Fei, apprentice to the Pavilion's beast wardens ā carries coral scrolls through a flooded passage.
As she passes the gate to the Vault Seal Echo, she pauses⦠unaware that her shadow lingers behind her a second too long.
The sleeper agent, eyes hollow, watches from the rippleglass ā a faint burn upon their neck shaped like a spiral fang: the mark of the Bleeding Salt.
