The water crushed my chest, an icy vise that should’ve killed me, but I didn’t drown. Consciousness clawed back, sharp and painful, my throat raw as I coughed up saltwater. My wrists ached, bound tight by sinew and steel, suspending me in a cavern that gleamed with unnatural light. The walls were a lattice of bone and metal, veined with pulsing bioluminescence that cast a greenish pallor over everything. The air hung heavy, damp with a metallic tang that scratched my lungs with every breath. This wasn’t the surface anymore—not the jagged peaks of the Himalayas, not the wind-bitten cliffs. This was their domain, deep beneath the waves, a tomb of cold and shadow.
Aya dangled beside me, her small frame limp, head slumped forward. Her spear was gone, lost to the sea, and her ankle bore the raw, red imprint of the tendril that had dragged her down. Her chest rose faintly—she was alive, but barely. I yanked at my bonds, the sinew cutting into my skin, drawing blood that dripped onto the floor with a faint patter. The hum was everywhere, a relentless drone that vibrated through the structure, seeping into my bones. It wasn’t just noise—it was a presence, a living thing that pressed against my mind, testing my edges. Then came the whisper, soft and wet, slithering into my ears like a parasite: “Awake… good…”
It emerged from the shadows—the Whisperer, its oil-slick body rippling as it moved, a grotesque dance of fluid tendrils. Its needle-teeth glinted in the dim glow, a jagged maw that seemed to grin, while its hollow sockets wept black slime, pooling on the floor in hissing puddles. “You… see…” it rasped, its voice a blade carving into my thoughts. A tendril gestured toward the cavern’s edge, slow and deliberate, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking. My stomach lurched, bile rising as the truth unfolded beyond a translucent wall.
The sea stretched boundless, an abyss lit by thousands of glowing shapes—creatures darting through a city that defied comprehension. Towers of bone and metal spiraled upward, dwarfing anything I’d ever seen, their tips piercing the water’s surface like the spines of some ancient beast. Lights pulsed within, a rhythmic dance of green and violet, not chaotic but ordered, as if signaling something vast and unseen. Humans moved among the structures—or what had been humans. Their bodies were warped: arms ending in hooked claws, spines bent at angles that defied nature, skin patched with scales that shimmered sickly in the light. They hauled massive slabs, their hands fused with tools of sinew and steel, building spires that grew taller with every motion. Above them loomed the behemoth, its spiked shell a distant silhouette against the dark water, its hum a thunderous pulse that directed the swarm.
“They… build…” the Whisperer hissed, drifting closer until its tendrils brushed my face, cold and slick, leaving a trail of slime that burned faintly. “You… will…” I jerked back, spitting curses that echoed hollowly in the cavern, but its voice burrowed deeper: “No… fight… only… become…” My heart hammered, dread sinking into me like lead. Aya stirred beside me, a low moan escaping her lips, and the Whisperer’s head snapped toward her with predatory speed. “Young… strong… perfect…” it purred, its tendrils coiling toward her like snakes tasting prey.
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“Leave her alone!” I roared, thrashing against the bonds until blood ran down my arms, staining the floor red. The Whisperer tilted its head, teeth parting wider in a grotesque mockery of a smile. “She… hears…” It tapped a tendril against the translucent wall, and a low hum rose in response—not the behemoth’s, but a chorus from the workers below. Their heads turned as one, hundreds of empty gazes locking upward through the water. Xiao Yu was among them, her once-familiar face half-covered in scales, her lips moving in sync with the sound: “Join… us…” The words weren’t hers—they were theirs, a hollow chant that chilled me to the core.
Aya’s eyes fluttered open, wide and frantic. “Lin Ze… it’s in my head!” she gasped, clawing at her ears as if she could rip the voice out. Her nails left red streaks on her skin, her breath hitching in sobs. The Whisperer wrapped a tendril around her arm, its voice a sickening caress: “Yes… listen…” I bellowed, slamming my shoulder into the bonds, desperation fueling every move. The sinew creaked, but held—until a sharp crack split the air. It wasn’t my restraints, but the wall behind us. The hum faltered, a stutter in its rhythm, and the Whisperer froze, its tendrils quivering.
A tremor rocked the cavern, the floor shuddering beneath us. Dust rained from the ceiling, and cracks spiderwebbed across the translucent wall, water jetting through in thin, hissing streams. The Whisperer shrieked, a sound that clawed at my ears, its tendrils flailing wildly. Beyond the wall, a shadow loomed—not the behemoth, not one of their ordered kin, but something jagged and untamed. Its roar drowned the hum, a primal bellow that shook the water into froth. The workers below scattered, their eerie chorus fracturing into chaos, their movements erratic as they fled the spires.
“Lin Ze, now!” Aya yelled, her voice cutting through the din. The tremor snapped her bonds, and she fell, grabbing my arm to steady herself. I twisted, fumbling for my knife—still tucked in my boot, overlooked by the tendrils in their haste. My fingers closed around the hilt, and I sawed at the sinew, the blade biting through with agonizing slowness. The Whisperer lunged, its rasp a scream: “No… mine…” Its tendrils lashed toward me, but the wall shattered with a deafening crash, and the sea poured in—a torrent of ice and fury that slammed into us like a fist.
The shadow outside struck again, a massive claw tearing through the metal lattice, rending it apart with a shriek of twisting steel. I glimpsed it through the flood—scales, not shells, rough and ancient, eyes not glowing but black as the void, deep and unreflective. It wasn’t theirs, wasn’t part of their order. The current seized us, ripping me free as Aya clung to my side, her nails digging into my arm. The Whisperer’s voice faded, swallowed by the roar of this new predator—this thing that hunted them. Water churned around us, pulling us deeper into the dark, and I realized we weren’t saved. We’d only traded one nightmare for another, caught in a war older than the flood that drowned our world.