Chapter 241
I stare into the Marble and don’t recognize it. Where it used to be rife with an entire ecosystem, the water now is brackish and dull. The tanks hum with something darker, colder.
The water is a deeper blue, nearly black, and there's a weight to it, as if the pressure of the deep sea has been bottled and brought here. The gentle marine life is gone because what would be the point of keeping it housed here where nothing natural is meant to survive?
It belongs to the Elder Kin now.
Massive silhouettes shift in the water beyond the reinforced glass. Some drift with deceptive slowness; others hover with unsettling stillness, watching. Their sheer presence sends a ripple of unease down my spine.
Tentacles thicker than a man’s torso slither just beyond the glass, their suctioned undersides rippling as if sensing us. A three-eyed creature glides past, its gaze like liquid mercury locking onto mine.
I stumble back a step.
“Are you insane?” I whisper.
Wake doesn’t whisper. His voice rings out, sharp and furious. “What the hell is this?”
He strides forward, rage in every step. I can see his fists clench and unclench as he tries to reel it in, but the fury still radiates off him in waves. “You’re keeping them here? Containing them like pets?”
Cora stands between us, but I see the conflict on her face. Her arms are crossed, expression unreadable, but her eyes… her eyes are shining with something I haven’t seen in a long time.
Curiosity.
“This is dangerous,” she murmurs, still staring at one of the more massive beasts gliding past. “But… also revolutionary.”
I can feel Wake bristle beside me. “Don’t romanticize this. These aren’t research specimens—they’re weapons.”
Shoal turns toward us, hands folded behind his back like some regal statesman giving a tour. His smile is smooth and practiced, too calm.
“This,” he says, gesturing to the tank, “was Lily’s idea. A condition of our collaboration.”
Lily steps forward, a smug satisfaction painted all over her face. Her posture is perfect, every motion rehearsed. “These beings are extraordinarily complex,” she says, voice honeyed with pride. “The neurological systems alone… We’ve already made incredible strides just studying the structure of their brain waves. And best of all, there are no sticky moral grey areas. They aren’t sentient—not in a way that matters. They don’t feel pain the way mammals do, they don’t mourn, they don’t even recognize their own reflections.”
I take a sharp breath through my nose and clench my jaw. “That’s convenient,” I say flatly.
Shoal raises his hand slightly as if to maintain calm. “You misunderstand. This isn’t just research for research’s sake. It’s the foundation for a new kind of alliance. One that benefits both our peoples.”
“Oh, I see,” I say slowly. “So Enigma gets access to Enkian tech and all the alien biology it can harvest—meanwhile, you get what? Do you need help with your mining operation? Access to machines that were already yours? Shoal, if you’ve spent all this time building your own personal army, why not just take the submarines back?”
Shoal meets my eyes. There’s no defensiveness there. Only certainty. “To you, our technology is ancient and revolutionary. To us, yours is… so much more. The things humans have built—cybernetic interfaces, artificial intelligence, remote communication—are not just curiosities to us. They’re the missing half of a puzzle we didn’t even know we were solving.”
Cora speaks for the first time, eyes narrowing. “I’m sure you’re not just looking to build bridges. You want more than an academic connection.”
Shoal’s smile deepens. “Lady Cora, I would expect you of all people to understand. You’ve had the privilege of living two lives—above and below. What if I told you you didn’t have to choose? That there is a reality where one can exist in both worlds at once, fully and freely.”
Cora scoffs. “I assure you, it didn’t seem like a privilege at the time.”
“But it could be,” Shoal says, stepping closer to the glass. “The old rules—the walls between us—they were born of fear. But imagine a world where the sea is no longer a boundary, but a bridge.”
Wake steps forward again, voice low and deadly. “That golden dream of yours only works if there’s still a sea and a land left to unite. And you plan to wake the thing that’s fated to devour both.”
Shoal lifts his eyes to the tank, watching the dark shapes swim in the shadows.
“To know a god,” he says softly, “is to know its creations.”
He nods toward Lily.
She pulls a sleek black remote from her pocket and presses a button. Somewhere, a low, resonant hum begins to pulse through the room. It’s a strange melody—not music, exactly, but layered vibrations and harmonic frequencies that crawl along my spine.
The Elder Kin stir.
One by one, they rise.
Like leviathans answering an ancient call, they ascend from the depths of the tank, breaking the surface with eerie synchronicity. Water sloshes up the sides of the tank. Their massive forms bob just beneath the surface, glistening with bioluminescent patches and strange metallic glints under their slick skin.
I feel my mouth go dry.
They’re responding. Not just moving—obeying.
“Impossible,” Wake breathes.
But it’s not.
They’re arranged in formation. Still and poised. Like soldiers awaiting command.
Lily grins. “They’re not gods,” she says. “Just beasts with brains. And we’ve finally found the frequency that speaks to them.”
Shoal looks over his shoulder at me.
“Tell me, Phoebe,” he says. “Do you still think I’m dooming our worlds… or building the future?”
I don’t answer.
Because I honestly don’t know.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
