The currents around the Sunless City were cold, but the atmosphere inside the Royal Hangar was absolutely freezing.
Caspian stood by the transport gate, leaning heavily on his trident. He had swapped his ruined volcanic armor for a high-collared tunic of woven sea-silk, dark enough to hide the bandages on his shoulder. The corruption—the Void Virus—was currently dormant, suppressed by Primrose's glowing blue herb paste, but the grey, cracked veins were creeping up his neck like frost.
"Are you sure about this, Neighbor?" Primrose asked, shivering slightly. She didn't have her chef's uniform. She was wearing a borrowed Jiaoren robe that was three sizes too big and made of slippery kelp-fabric. She clutched a waterproof satchel containing the Sun-Pearl to her chest. "You look like you're about to pass out. Morana won't attack the moment you leave. We could rest for an hour."
