The ocean had turned gray.
Not the natural kind. Not the calming, overcast kind. This gray was thick. Heavy. Like the sea itself had been clouded by ash and rage.
Dominic and Aegirion floated near the outer ledge of the vault's temple, watching the rising storm with quiet tension.
The spiral in the distance had grown.
"What do we do now?" Dominic asked, gripping the Trident as it flickered faintly in his hand.
Aegirion scanned the waters ahead. "We don't run."
That was unusual.
Dominic raised a brow. "You sure? I thought you just told me I wasn't ready."
"You're not," Aegirion said flatly. "But there's something coming. It's not Virell. Not yet. Something smaller. A test."
Dominic squinted.
From the distance, the dark water began to ripple unnaturally. Not like a wave. More like… footsteps.
Then he saw it—shapes. Six of them.
Walking.
On the seafloor.
As they drew closer, Dominic realized these weren't sea creatures.
They were people.
Or what was left of them.
