The British Geological Survey library in Keyworth, Nottinghamshire, radiated a hushed calm as the late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows. Rows of shelves stretched toward the high ceiling, crammed with volumes of maps, charts, and traditional paper logs.
Two men hunched over a large oak table, and their faces were etched with intense concentration as they pored over a scattered array of documents and diagrams. Michael Ainsworth, a lean marine geologist in his early forties, adjusted his square glasses as he studied a large bathymetric map depicting the rugged terrain of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.
"Take a gander at these contour lines, Henry," he said, tapping the map with a calloused finger. His voice carried the distinct cadence of a native Yorkshireman. "See how the axial valley carves a deep trench along the ridge crest?"
Across the table, Henry Wilkins grunted in acknowledgment, his bushy moustache twitching. The older man's stocky frame was draped in a rumpled tweed jacket, sleeves rolled up to expose tanned forearms. "Aye, I'm not blind, lad," he grumbled, leaning closer to inspect the map. "But those off-axis seamounts there – they're naught but volcanic edifices built atop the ridge."
Michael shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Not so fast, old chap. Their alignment and spacing suggest a more complex interplay between the tectonic stresses and underlying magma dynamics."
A younger man seated nearby perked up, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. William Tate, Michael's fresh-faced junior researcher, raked a hand through his unruly mop of sandy hair. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Ainsworth?"
Michael's eyes gleamed with the passion of a true academic. "Well, Will, the Mid-Atlantic is a slow-spreading ridge, which means the tectonic plates are drifting apart at a relatively leisurely pace. This gives the magma more time to cool and differentiate, creating diverse volcanic features."
He snatched up another map, this one depicting cross-sectional views of the ridge's internal structure. "Look here, at these seismic tomography profiles. See how the magma chambers are elongated and irregularly shaped? That's a stark contrast to the more spherical chambers you'd expect at faster-spreading ridges like the East Pacific Rise."
Henry’s jowls quivered as he harrumphed. "So you're suggesting these off-axis seamounts are the result of some sort of lateral magma intrusion, rather than simple volcanic edifices built upon the ridge itself?"
"Precisely." Michael nodded, his enthusiasm palpable. "The tectonic stress fields may play a role in guiding these intrusions, but the magma dynamics are the driving force behind the seamount formation."
While the two marine geologists continued their heated debate, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over Michael. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, but the vertigo persisted, like a fleeting bout of motion sickness. Odd, I don't usually get dizzy spells like this.
Across the table, Henry seemed equally affected, his forehead creasing as he rubbed his temples with a meaty hand. Even young William appeared momentarily distracted, dazedly looking towards the shelves lining the library walls.
Michael shook his head, pushing past the odd sensation. "Anyway, as I was saying, the bathymetric data clearly shows..."
But as he reached for the map he had been referencing earlier, it was nowhere to be found. His eyes widened as he shuffled through the scattered papers and charts littering the table's surface, a sense of unease creeping up his spine.
"Looking for this, dearie?"
The familiar, reedy voice of Mrs. Edna Hawkins, the library's resident curator, cut through the tension like a knife. The elderly woman stood beside the table, her wispy gray hair escaping the confines of her bun as she clutched the missing map in her gnarled hands.
"I found this misplaced among the core sample logs," she tutted. "You boys really must be more careful with these precious resources."
A flush of heat crept up Michael's neck as he accepted the map from Mrs. Hawkins' outstretched hand. "My apologies," he embarrassedly said, cheeks reddening. "It won't happen again."
Henry's moustache twitched, and he cleared his throat, the sound carrying a hint of annoyance. "Yes, well, thank you for retrieving the map." He waved a dismissive hand. "Now, where were we?"
The awkward moment passed as Mrs. Hawkins shuffled away, the tap of her cane fading into the library's silence. Michael felt a twinge of unease as he glanced at his wristwatch, only to frown in confusion.
"Say, that's odd," he whispered. "I could've sworn we started this debate around four o'clock, but it's nearly half-past five now."
Henry's bushy eyebrows rose in surprise as he checked his own timepiece, a battered pocket watch that had seen better days. "Well, I'll be..." His gravelly voice trailed off as he exchanged a puzzled look with Michael.
Even young William seemed perplexed, his eyes widening as he processed the apparent lapse in time. "But... that can't be right, can it?" he asked, glancing between the two senior geologists. "We've only been here for an hour or so, haven't we?"
A heavy silence descended upon the trio, broken only by the occasional creak of the library's wooden beams. Michael's gaze drifted towards the tall windows, where the golden rays of the setting sun cast long shadows across the room. A chill crept up his spine, raising goosebumps along his forearms.
Henry was the first to break the uneasy quiet, clearing his throat gruffly. "Well, no sense fretting over a bit of lost time," he declared, though his tone lacked its usual bravado. "We've got more pressing matters to discuss, like the nature of these off-axis seamounts."
William nodded, but his expression remained one of unease, as if he couldn't quite shake the nagging sense that something wasn't quite right. He fidgeted in his chair, fingers drumming an erratic rhythm against the tabletop.
Forcing a jovial chuckle, Michael clapped his hands together in an attempt to dispel the creeping tension. "Right you are, old chap! No use letting a spot of lost time rattle us. We're men of science, after all!"
Yet, even as he spoke the words, Michael couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease settle in the pit of his stomach. The dizziness they had all experienced, coupled with the unexplained gap in their perception of time – it was unsettling, to say the least.
Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, Michael plastered on a smile and gestured towards the scattered maps and diagrams. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the off-axis seamounts..."
oo0ooOoo0oo
The enchanted carpet glided silently through the air, carrying Lucas high above the churning waves of the North Atlantic. Invisible to the naked eye and thermally masked, he was little more than a ghost, a phantom presence soaring through the vast expanse of sky and sea.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Lucas's emerald eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the endless blue that stretched out before him. The wind whipped at his dark hair, but he paid it no mind, and focused solely on the task at hand. He was searching for the perfect spot to create his hidden base, a sanctuary beneath the ocean floor where he could work in peace and secrecy.
His mind drifted back to the hours he had spent in the British Geological Survey library, pouring over the detailed maps and charts that depicted the intricate topography of the North Atlantic seabed. The knowledge he had gleaned from the minds of the marine geologists – their passionate debates and insights into the submarine landscape – swirled through his thoughts, painting a vivid picture of the world beneath the waves.
The Mid-Atlantic Ridge, Lucas mused, picturing the jagged seam that ran along the ocean floor, marking the boundary between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. It was a place of immense geological activity, where the Earth's crust was constantly shifting and reshaping itself, giving rise to a complex network of valleys, seamounts, and hydrothermal vents.
While he flew, Lucas mentally overlaid the bathymetric contours onto the featureless expanse of the ocean's surface, his eidetic memory recalling every detail of the maps he had studied. He could visualize the hidden world beneath the waves with startling clarity, the terrain of the seafloor as familiar to him as the back of his hand.
His gaze was drawn to a particular stretch of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, the Charlie-Gibbs Fracture Zone. It was a place of intense geological activity, where the Earth's crust was fractured and weak, making it an ideal spot for his purposes. The transform fault had offset the ridge, creating a series of deep, linear valleys that cut across the seafloor like a jagged scar.
Lucas's lips curled into a smile as he considered the potential of incorporating the intricate details of the ocean floor's topography and composition into his Vast Sea Visualization technique. The more lifelike the mental construct, the greater the control he would have over his Earth Magic. It was an avenue worth exploring, a way to refine his abilities even further.
With a flick of his wrist, Lucas directed the enchanted carpet to descend, guiding it towards the location of the Hecate Seamount, a submerged volcanic peak nestled within the Charlie-Gibbs Fracture Zone. When he approached the ocean's surface, he drew upon his magic to protect himself from the crushing depths.
His Water Magic would keep the water at bay, allowing him to survive the water pressure and move freely in a two-meter radius. A translucent shield of force would deflect any debris or marine life that might cross his path, while his Air Magic would fill the two-meter void, ensuring he had a constant supply of fresh oxygen.
Taking a deep breath, Lucas plunged into the frigid waters, his descent slowed by the careful manipulation of his elemental magic. The cold bit at his skin, even through the protective bubble, but he ignored the discomfort.
Sinking deeper into into the inky darkness, the pressure of the ocean bearing down on his magical barriers, Lucas was still impressed at the power of magic. Magic truly did trump physics, at least in this case, allowing him to venture into a realm that would crush any ordinary human.
The dim light filtering through the depths gradually faded, giving way to a nearly all-encompassing blackness. But Lucas was not deterred. With a thought, he conjured a series of glowing orbs, sending them shooting out in all directions to illuminate the alien landscape around him.
The sight that greeted him was breathtaking. A vast plateau stretched out before him, the summit of the Hecate Seamount in the Charlie-Gibbs Fracture Zone, covered in vibrant cold-water corals and sponge gardens. The colours were muted by the blue-green haze of the deep, but still, they shone with an otherworldly beauty.
Fish darted among the rocky outcrops with scales glinting in the magical light. Cephalopods and crustaceans scuttled across the seafloor in strange ways in the pressure-dampened environment. The Lophelia pertusa corals formed complex structures, their delicate branches providing shelter for countless marine species.
Glass sponges and other hexactinellids dotted the landscape, and their ethereal forms were reminiscent of underwater forests. The orange roughy, a species Lucas recognized from his visit to the British Geological Survey library, swam lazily through the maze of coral and sponge with bulbous eyes that reflected the magical light.
Lucas walked along the plateau with muffled footsteps by the soft sediment, as he made his way towards the eastern edge of the seamount. He had no intention of building his base atop the exposed peak, instead preferring the added security of the submarine volcano's flanks.
When he reached the precipice, Lucas gazed out over the yawning abyss that stretched before him, the inky darkness broken only by the faint glow of his light balls. With a deep breath, he stepped off the edge, his air bubble and protective spells carrying him gently into the unknown.
Deeper and deeper he sank, the pressure of the ocean growing ever more intense as he descended into the crushing depths. By his estimation, he had reached a depth of nearly 1200 meters, the weight of the water above him enough to pulverize any ordinary human.
Suddenly, an eerie sound echoed through the depths, a mournful cry that sent shivers down Lucas's spine. It was reminiscent of a whale's song, but twisted and alien, unlike anything he had ever heard before.
Paling at the implications, Lucas quickly cast his sensory spells, the Thermal Currents of the Vast Sea and the Glow of the Depths, hoping to get a glimpse of the creature that had made such an unearthly noise. What he saw made his blood run cold.
A vast thermal signature, easily 70 meters in length, was moving through the water nearby, dwarfing even the largest known species of whale. Lucas swore under his breath as he tried to comprehend the sheer size of the creature.
“What the fucking hell is that!”
With a surge of panic, he pushed his air bubble downward, propelling himself towards the flank of the seamount with all the speed he could muster. The mournful cry sounded again, louder this time, and Lucas could sense the creature's thermal signature shifting, turning towards him with an almost predatory intent.
He landed on the rocky slope of the seamount, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned to face the approaching leviathan. The creature was still some 400 meters away, but even at that distance, its immense size was staggering.
It resembled a translucent whale, and its body was distorting the water around it as it swam while the mournful cry emanated from its gaping maw filled with thousands of sharp near-translucent teeth. Its eyes, each easily the size of a car, seemed to focus on Lucas with an unsettling intelligence, boring into him with an alien intensity.
When the creature drew closer, Lucas felt his air bubble begin to slowly shrink. He tried to reinforce the spell, pouring more of his Will into it, but the effort was met with a resistance he had never encountered before.
"It can disable magic?" he whispered with eyes wide in fear. The realization sent a chill down his spine, and he knew that his only hope of survival lay in the earth beneath his feet.
Turning towards the rocky face of the seamount, Lucas focused his Will, guiding his Earth Magic into the stone and soil. The ground before him parted like a curtain, and without hesitation, Lucas stepped into the passage, the earth closing behind him as he dug deeper into the seamount's flank. The mournful cry of the leviathan faded as he descended, the tons of rock and sediment muffling the sound until it was little more than a distant echo.
But even as he breathed a sigh of relief, the earth around him shuddered, the seamount quaking under the impact of the creature's massive body. Lucas swore, realizing that the leviathan was ramming the mountainside, trying to reach him through sheer brute force.
He redoubled his efforts, pouring more of his magic into the tunnel, urging the earth to carry him deeper and faster. The leviathan struck the seamount twice more, each impact sending shockwaves through the stone, but Lucas's magic held firm, protecting him from the crushing force.
After what felt like an eternity, the quaking ceased, and Lucas sensed the leviathan's thermal signature moving away, apparently losing interest in its elusive prey. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the close call.
With a thought, he expanded the tunnel around him, creating a small chamber roughly five meters square. Exhausted from the ordeal, Lucas slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the cool rock floor.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves. The encounter with this… leviathan had been too close for comfort. Even with all his magical prowess, he was not invincible, and there were creatures in this world that could pose a serious threat to him.
But as he sat there, surrounded by the solid rock of the seamount, he shook his head gently. He had come too far to turn back now, and he refused to let this setback deter him from his goal.
Rising to his feet, Lucas dusted off his robes and took a closer look at his surroundings. The chamber he had created was small and cramped, but it would serve as a temporary shelter while he planned his next move.
With a wave of his hand, he conjured a glowing orb to illuminate the space, casting a soft, bluish light over the dark rock walls.