The current flung us through the dark, a relentless torrent that battered my ribs and tore at my grip on Aya. Her nails dug into my arm, her breath a ragged gasp against the roar of water. The cavern’s collapse faded behind us, the Whisperer’s shriek swallowed by the chaos, but I knew it wasn’t gone—not yet. The sea churned around us, alive with shadows that weren’t theirs, shapes that moved too fast, too jagged, to belong to the ordered swarm we’d escaped.
My lungs burned, the knife still clutched in my hand useless against the flood. Aya’s weight dragged me down, her struggles weakening as the cold seeped into us both. I kicked against the pull, clawing for anything—rock, air, hope—but the deep had no mercy. Just as my vision blurred, something solid slammed into my back, a rough ledge of stone that knocked the breath from me. I clung to it, hauling Aya up beside me, her body limp but trembling. We’d landed on a shelf, a splinter of the trench’s edge, barely above the waterline.
The sea stretched below us, an endless black maw lit by flickers of green and violet—distant pulses from the city we’d fled. My chest heaved, saltwater dripping from my hair as I scanned the dark. “Aya,” I rasped, shaking her. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy with fear. “We’re alive,” she whispered, but her voice broke, her gaze darting to the water. “For now.”
A low growl rumbled through the trench, not the hum of the behemoth or the Whisperer’s rasp, but something rawer, older. The shadows shifted, and I saw it—a hulking mass of scales and spines, its black eyes glinting like voids in the faint light. It wasn’t one of theirs, wasn’t bound by their glowing order. Its claws scraped the stone, leaving gouges as it circled below, a predator sizing us up. Aya pressed against me, her breath hitching. “What… is that?”
Before I could answer, a familiar hiss cut through the dark—the Whisperer, its oil-slick form slithering from the depths, tendrils trailing like a net. “Yours…” it whispered, its needle-teeth bared, black slime oozing from its sockets. It moved with purpose, ignoring the scaled beast, its focus locked on us. The hum followed, softer now, a call echoing from the city’s ruins, summoning its kin. Two shelled creatures emerged behind it, their lantern-eyes glowing brighter, tentacles coiling as they advanced.
I gripped my knife, its blade chipped but sharp. “Stay back,” I told Aya, shoving her behind me. She clutched the ledge, her voice trembling. “They won’t stop, Lin Ze. They want us… alive.” The Whisperer drifted closer, its rasp a violation in my skull: “No… run… only… serve…” A tendril lashed out, striking the stone inches from my hand, the impact spraying purple ooze that burned my skin.
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The scaled beast roared, lunging from the water, its claws raking the Whisperer’s side. Black slime sprayed, mixing with purple as the two collided, a tangle of violence that shook the ledge. The shelled ones turned, their hum faltering, caught between masters. I seized the moment, dragging Aya along the shelf, her legs scraping the rock. “Move—now!” We stumbled into a narrow crevice, the walls slick with algae, the air thick with the stench of decay.
Behind us, the trench erupted in chaos—roars against shrieks, claws tearing at tendrils. I pressed deeper, the crevice tightening until we could barely breathe, the sounds of battle muffled by stone. Aya’s hand shook in mine, her voice a whisper. “They’re fighting… each other.” I nodded, my mind racing. “That thing—it’s not theirs. It’s wild.”
The crevice opened into a hollow, a pocket of air carved into the trench’s heart. Bioluminescent threads pulsed faintly along the walls, illuminating a floor littered with bones—human, fish, and things I couldn’t name. Aya sank to her knees, staring at a shattered skull, its eye sockets gaping. “We’re not the first,” she murmured, her fingers brushing the bone. I crouched beside her, my knife still ready, the hum distant but persistent.
A shadow loomed at the hollow’s edge, and my heart stopped. The scaled beast emerged, its spines dripping seawater, its breath a guttural snarl. Up close, it was massive—twice my height, its scales pitted with scars, its claws stained dark. It didn’t glow, didn’t hum, but its presence was a weight, a primal terror that made my knife feel like a toy. Aya froze, her eyes locked on it. “Lin Ze…”
It stepped closer, head tilting, black eyes unblinking. I raised my knife, a futile gesture, but then it stopped. A low growl rumbled from its throat, not at us—past us. The hum grew louder, and the Whisperer’s rasp echoed through the hollow: “Mine…” Tendrils snaked from the crevice, battered but relentless, the shelled ones limping behind.
The beast roared, charging past us, its bulk slamming into the Whisperer with a force that cracked the stone. Aya pulled me back, her voice urgent. “It’s protecting… something.” I glanced around, spotting a glint in the bones—a shard of metal, etched with symbols like those on the Whisperer’s tools, but older, rusted. I grabbed it, its edges biting my palm, as the fight raged on.
The sea trembled, a deeper hum rising—not the behemoth’s, but something vaster, older, stirring the trench. The Whisperer shrieked, retreating into the dark, its minions scattering. The scaled beast turned, its eyes meeting mine for a heartbeat, then it dove back into the water, leaving us alone with the hum and the shard. Aya clutched my arm, her voice a whisper. “What… are we in?”