The road from Cresthaven to the coast was a descent from the heights of civilization into the salt-sprayed wild. As the wagon rattled toward the port town of Stormhaven, the air grew thick with the scent of brine and decaying kelp.
For Kael, the journey was a blur of unease. Ever since they had left the Weaver's District, the world had felt... wrong. The mana in the atmosphere didn't just feel thin anymore; it felt agitated, like a pool of water being stirred by an unseen hand.
"Are you alright, Kael?" Sam asked, not looking back from the driver's seat.
"I feel a pressure," Kael replied, rubbing his chest. "Like a storm is coming, but the sky is clear."
Sam didn't answer. He hadn't been answering much lately. His charismatic chatter had been replaced by a brooding silence. When he did speak, it was often to himself, his hand buried deep in his pocket, fingering something Kael couldn't see.
They arrived at Stormhaven by sunset. It was a rugged, gray-stone town built into the side of a cliff, overlooking the churning black waters of the Azure Sea. Somewhere beneath those waves, miles offshore, lay the Sunken Ruins of Aethelgard.
"We need a boat," Sam said, his voice flat. "And the gear."
The following day was spent in the docks. Sam was efficient—ruthlessly so. He didn't haggle with the same playful charm Kael remembered. He was cold, demanding, and used the weight of their gold to silence any objections. He purchased a heavy-bellied salvage ship and a set of experimental diving bells lined with lead and silver—meant to withstand the crushing pressure and the mana-interference of the deep.
While Sam coordinated the supplies, Kael stood at the edge of the pier. He closed his eyes, extending his senses.
He felt it then—a heartbeat.
It wasn't human. It was deep, rhythmic, and old. It resonated with the Stasis Ring on his finger, making the white metal vibrate. It was as if the "Ancient Art" inside him was recognizing a kin, or perhaps, a predator.
"It's down there," Kael whispered. "The seal."
"And the wealth," a voice added from behind him.
Kael turned to see Sam standing there. The merchant looked haggard. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and his hair was unkempt. His hand was still in his pocket, his knuckles white.
"Sam, maybe we should stop," Kael said, his voice laced with concern. "You look sick. The gold isn't worth this. We have enough. Let's just go back to the Emerald Jungle. I can heal you."
Sam's eyes snapped to Kael's. For a moment, a flash of the old Sam—the brother, the friend—flickered in his gaze, filled with terror. "Kael, I—"
He will take it from you, a voice hissed in the back of Sam's mind. The sun boy will burn your guild to ash. He will keep the power for himself. He doesn't need a merchant. He needs a servant.
Sam's expression hardened. The warmth vanished, replaced by a cold, glassy stare. "I'm fine. It's just the sea air. We've come too far to turn back now, Kael. The Willer Guild needs this. I need this."
He turned away, barking orders at the sailors to begin loading the diving bells.
That night, on the deck of the ship as they sailed toward the coordinates of the ruins, Kael couldn't sleep. He sat on a crate, polishing his Codex. He felt a presence nearby.
"Mother, I think I made a mistake," he whispered to the wind.
In the captain's cabin, Sam sat alone by a single guttering candle. He had the obsidian shard out on the table. It was glowing now, a sickly, pulsing violet that cast long, distorted shadows against the walls.
"Everlasting wealth," Sam whispered, his eyes unfocused.
And a throne, the shard replied. The boy is the key. The seal requires a sacrifice of pure mana. A White Sun to feed the Dark Moon. Give him to the chamber, and the earth will belong to you.
Sam looked at the door. He thought of the three months they had spent together. He thought of Kael saving him from the Shadow-Stalker. He thought of the "Merchant's Promise."
Then, he looked back at the shard. He saw his own reflection in the obsidian, but he wasn't a merchant anymore. He was wearing a crown of black gold, standing atop a mountain of corpses, with the world kneeling at his feet.
"A small exchange," Sam muttered, his voice cracking. "For the guild. For the future."
The ship lurched as it entered the waters directly above Aethelgard. Below, in the crushing dark of the abyss, the Forbidden Chamber groaned. The seal was weakening, sensing the approach of the heir to the Ancient Arts.
Kael stood up, looking over the railing. The water was turning black, bubbling with a foul-smelling gas.
"We're here," Sam said, appearing on the deck. He was holding a diving helmet, his face unreadable in the moonlight. "It's time to go down, brother."
Kael looked at Sam, wanting to believe the lie one last time. "Together?"
Sam adjusted the straps on Kael's suit, his hands trembling only slightly. "Always together, Kael. Always."
As the diving bell was lowered into the black Maw of the Azure Sea, the moon reached its zenith. It wasn't full yet—that was three days away—but the shadows it cast were long, and they were hungry.