Chapter 218
I glide through the inky blue depths, feeling the cool, saline rush of water across my skin as I reclaim my siren form. It is as if I have been reborn beneath the sea, every scale and fin a reminder of who I truly am.
Beside me, Wake darts ahead with an unmistakable determination, his powerful form cutting through the water with ease. Arista and Silo trail close behind, their eyes alert as we converge on our destination. The submersible—Nereid’s vessel—hovers near us, its exterior a mix of sleek metal and glowing instrumentation, and I can feel the energy of our small team pulsing with anticipation.
We set out to explore the island's underwater perimeter, a place shrouded in mystery and danger. I swim alongside the submersible, my thoughts a blend of excitement and caution.
The gentle hum of the vessel mixes with the natural music of the sea—the distant call of a whale, the soft crackle of shifting sand under water, and the occasional flutter of a school of fish that shimmers like liquid silver. The world around me is a vivid tapestry of blues and greens, punctuated by the brilliant beams of laser mapping technology that slice through the darkness.
Inside the Flounder, a submersible equipped with state-of-the-art laser mapping tech, the team is busy at work. I watch as their displays come alive with a 3D model of the island’s underwater terrain.
Every contour, every crevice, is rendered in painstaking detail. When the Marble appears on the model, Andreas leans forward, his eyes widening with a mix of wonder and reverence. “Remarkable,” he murmurs, his voice echoing slightly in the pressurized confines of the craft.
I can’t help but smile at the mixture of awe and irony in the moment. Wake’s response is a low grunt, a sound that carries far more than simple acknowledgment. I know that grumble well; it is his way of expressing his discontent.
I recall the dark days when he was imprisoned in the Marble, a place that had confined not just his body but his very spirit. “He’s not a fan,” I explain to Tai, whose tone is laced with equal parts humor and trepidation. “The Marble isn’t just stone and mystery—it’s a prison for him.”
Tai’s response is immediate and unfiltered. “I’m sure this place is a house of horrors, a very expensive one,” he quips, his voice resonating with a blend of cynicism and incredulity.
The underwater landscape around us seems to acknowledge his words, its silent depths concealing secrets that threaten to overwhelm the senses.
We continue mapping the island, our collective focus sharpening as the laser beams trace every ridge and trough. Suddenly, a portion of the island’s structure fails to register on the mapping grid—a significant blind spot that defies explanation.
My mind races as I analyze the anomaly. “There’s a large section that’s simply unaccounted for,” I state, my voice calm despite the rising tension. “That should be impossible.” My thoughts settle on the possibility of cloaking technology, a hypothesis that sends a ripple of agreement through our team.
We convene quickly, pooling our expertise to devise a plan. Tai and Andreas step forward to guide the four of us—Wake, Arista, Silo, and me—toward the perimeter of the blind spot. The plan is to search for cloaking transmitters that might be responsible for masking this section of the island. Our movements are coordinated and precise, as if we are a single organism attuned to the underwater world’s hidden rhythms.
As we navigate closer to the suspected area, the water grows colder and the pressure seems to increase around us. The laser mapping team’s lights flicker over a series of small, blinking objects that cling to the rocky surface. My heart skips a beat as I realize we have found dozens of cloaking transmitters.
Their metallic surfaces glint in the laser light, and I can almost sense the hum of their concealed power. Our communications warn us that we cannot simply destroy these devices without triggering alarms that would alert anyone—or anything—lurking in the shadows.
In the tense silence that follows, Wake circles back toward me. His eyes, normally so fiercely determined, now glint with a hint of mischief and urgency. “Are these machines susceptible to electricity?” he asks, his tone more conversational than clinical. I understand his meaning immediately—a test of the devices' vulnerability to a sudden surge of energy.
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the ancient power within me stir. With deliberate focus, I extend my will through the water, channeling an electric current that ripples from my fingertips. The surge arcs toward the transmitters in a silent cascade, their circuits overwhelmed by the sudden influx of energy.
One by one, the devices sputter and shut down, their lights flickering erratically as if caught in a system error. I maintain the connection, watching intently as the transmitters go dark, their functions halted by my power. By the time the systems attempt to reboot, we are already inside the barrier they were meant to protect.
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