Chapter 242
The air in the Marble still hums with that strange, haunting resonance from Lily’s melody. I’m half expecting the Elder Kin to break formation and descend into chaos, but they don’t.
They hold their positions like loyal sentries, shimmering monstrosities poised in the glow of the tank’s artificial light. The silence that follows is thick and brittle, and I can feel the tension between us all, taut as a tripwire.
They’re majestic in the worst way. Too symmetrical, too sharp. Every inch of them screams apex predator. I can’t stop picturing them erupting through the glass, descending on us like a black tide.
Wake is the first to speak, his voice low, clipped. “We need to talk.”
Shoal smiles, ever the diplomat. “Of course. That was the intention.”
We follow him down a corridor that leads into a more sterile part of the facility—glass walls, reinforced steel doors, and the constant low hum of power surging through invisible cables beneath our feet. Every step feels like a gamble. Wake stalks beside me, tense but silent, and I catch Cora’s eye. She’s calm, outwardly at least, but I can tell her mind is racing.
We pass a row of labs filled with glowing blue tanks and surgical tools that look more like art than equipment. There’s no dust anywhere. The whole place feels like it’s been scrubbed within an inch of its life. It reminds me of Enigma’s older labs, back when I thought research meant answers. Now, I’m not so sure.
We’re led into a sleek conference room, all dark stone and smooth chrome, with a long table at its center and an interactive screen stretched across one wall. Shoal gestures to the table. “Please.”
We don’t sit.
“We want to hear what you’re planning,” I say, cutting straight to the point. “But if you want cooperation, we’re not going to keep playing prisoner.”
Cora steps forward beside me. “The Nereid crew needs proper quarters. And they’re not going to sit around twiddling their thumbs while your researchers run around unchecked. We want them working again—on their own terms.”
Lily’s jaw clenches. “Absolutely not. This isn’t a sandbox for grad students. There’s real work being done here. Work that’s sensitive, volatile. Letting them poke around could jeopardize everything.”
Shoal raises a calming hand, turning to her. “Liliana. Let’s not be so rigid. What if they accompany your team? Supervised, of course.”
She turns sharply to him. “You want me to babysit them?”
“I want them to understand. To see. If your work is truly as groundbreaking as you believe, then transparency shouldn’t be a threat.”
Cora raises a brow. “Agreed. But let’s be clear—this isn’t a one-sided arrangement. Phoebe, Wake, and I need full autonomy. No security escorts, no locked doors.”
Lily blinks. “That’s ridiculous. You expect us to give you free reign in the most advanced facility we’ve ever built?”
Wake’s voice rumbles like distant thunder. “We expect you to remember that you need us. More than we need you.”
Lily folds her arms. “Need I remind you that you are not guests on this island?”
Wake takes a step closer. “Need I remind you that that didn’t stop me from leaving last time?”
The tension snaps taut again. I don’t need to look to know that Lily’s blood is boiling. Her face is unreadable, but her posture is rigid, and her fists clench at her sides.
Shoal, smooth as ever, slides between them with a conciliatory smile. “Please. There’s no need for threats. Let’s call this what it is: a partnership. Show them you’re willing to give, and they might just give back. Consider it… a gesture of good faith.”
Lily exhales sharply, clearly hating every syllable coming out of his mouth, but after a long pause, she nods once. “Fine. But they’re not to go near the cryo labs or the archive sectors. And if I say something’s off-limits, I mean it.”
I look to Cora and Wake, and we exchange a series of quick, silent signals.
This is the best deal we’re going to get.
“We accept,” I say, then glance to Shoal. “But you said something earlier—about roles to fill?”
Shoal spreads his arms wide, a gracious host again. “This operation is vast and constantly expanding. If you want to understand what we’re doing, immerse yourselves in it. Choose where you want to assist—observe the Elder Kin, review data, or even help with technological reverse-engineering. See it with your own eyes. Learn what we’re working toward.”
Cora frowns. “And what is it you hope we’ll see?”
“That we’re not so different,” he says smoothly. “That there is a future where land and sea thrive together.”
Wake scoffs but says nothing. I place a hand gently on his arm. “We’ll take a look.”
He glances at me, something unreadable in his expression. I can feel how much he hates this. But he nods.
Shoal’s eyes flick between us all, satisfied. “Wonderful.”
Wake takes a breath, then says, “One more thing. When we’re done here—when we decide we’re finished—what happens then?”
Shoal’s smile widens, full of teeth. “Then I haven’t done my job well enough, have I?”
There’s a heavy pause. None of us answer. Because we all know how quickly a smile like that can turn into a snare.
He claps his hands once. “Now then. Let’s show you to your rooms, shall we?”
We follow him out, the light from the Marble’s massive tank casting strange shadows against the floor. I glance once more at the Elder Kin, still gliding silently beneath the glass, moving in perfect, eerie unison. Their eyes—if you could even call them that—seem to follow us, intelligent and unblinking.
And I can’t shake the thought—if Shoal can turn monsters into soldiers, what else is he capable of turning?
And worse, given enough time, what might he be capable of turning us into?
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