The palace of Naerida, Queen of the Sapphire Depths, was no longer calm. Where once the halls echoed with lullabies of flowing water and distant whalesong, now it trembled with tension. Crystal lanterns pulsed dimly against the dark tide, as courtiers in robes of kelp and armor of shell gathered in silence.
The war council had been summoned.
At the high table, Naerida sat motionless. Her presence was ethereal—long strands of coral-white hair floated behind her like ribbons, and her crown, woven from obsidian coral, gleamed. The sea around her chilled with her mood. To her right stood Captain Vaelis, her blade-arm, grim and armored in storm-forged plate. To her left, the old Tide Seer, Elaran, eyes clouded with salt-born prophecy.
"Speak," Naerida commanded.
Elaran drifted forward. His voice crackled like distant thunder. "The Siren, Lyrielle, has awakened. The Choir has begun to move."
A shudder rippled through the chamber.
