The roar of the water was a physical thing, a wall of sound and force that stole the breath from Bianca's lungs. It filled the tunnel, a churning, foaming nightmare rushing to swallow them whole. Beside her, Ember stared, her manic energy finally snuffed out by the sheer, primal terror of the deluge, her mouth a small, round 'o' of confusion.
Bianca's mind, usually a whirlwind of half-finished sentences and dessert-themed gadget names, snapped into a terrifying, singular focus. Her hands flew to the multi-tool holster at her waist, yanking free two spider-like drones she'd nicknamed "Baklava Blasters." With a frantic, prayer-like whisper of "Like, please work, please work," she hurled them at the tunnel walls and ceiling just ahead of the water's leading edge.
The drones hit the stone and instantly spat thick, rapidly expanding globs of ultra-adhesive webbing. The substance spread like crazy, grabbing onto the shuddering rock, fusing cracks, and pulling a section of the ceiling down in a controlled, desperate collapse. It wasn't elegant. Rocks and dust slammed down, creating a messy, chaotic, but effective dam that diverted the crushing tide into a side passage with a thunderous roar. The force of the redirected water shook the ground, but the immediate path was clear, the air misty with spray.
Silence, thick and stunned, fell for half a second. Then, from somewhere deep within the newly flooded tunnels, distant, muffled screams echoed—slaves, guards, Revolutionaries, all caught in the chaos.
Ember's head cocked. The terror in her eyes melted away, replaced by a spark of manic delight. "Hear that?" she whispered, a slow, wide grin spreading across her face. "Someone's having a party! So much fun!" The screams were just noise to her, a invitation to play. "Let's go play with them!" And with that, she was off again, a pink-haired phantom sprinting deeper into the unstable maze, towards the sound of pandemonium.
"EMBER! NO! Like, for the love of—!" Bianca cursed, the words a ragged sob of exhaustion and fury. She scrambled after the girl, her boots slipping on the wet, debris-littered stone. The choice was gone; she couldn't leave Ember to whatever "party" she'd found.
Elsewhere, A Different Kind of Awakening
Aurélie, Souta, Koala, and Kuro ran through a shuddering corridor, the world shaking itself apart around them. They rounded a bend and nearly collided with Sabo and a very flustered Charlie, who was clutching his pith helmet to his head as he ran.
"Sabo!" Koala yelled.
"Not this way!" Sabo shouted, his voice cutting through the din. "The bridge is coming down on itself! The support network is failing!" He gestured wildly behind him. "This is the only clear path!"
The six of them—Revolutionary, Consortium, and Syndicate, an alliance forged in sheer desperation—spilled into a wider, older chamber. And froze.
The retreating seawater, draining through cracks in the floor, had revealed what centuries of sediment had hidden. Standing in silent, water-dripping ranks were figures that made Charlie gasp. They were humanoid, but utterly alien, crafted from a dark, pitted metal that seemed to absorb the light. Thick, colorful coral encrusted their joints and shoulders, and strange, spindly seaweed beards hung from where faces should have been. They were ancient, silent, and radiated a cold, patient menace. Most terrifying of all were their hands: wicked, curved claws of black stone that glinted with a familiar, sickening dullness. Seastone.
As the last of the water gurgled away, a low, grinding hum filled the chamber. One by one, in the ranks of these coral-encrusted sentinels, pinpricks of sickly green light flickered to life in the depths of their helmet-like heads.
"We don't have time for this," Sabo growled, his expression hardening. He didn't wait for a discussion. His right hand curled into a peculiar, claw-like shape, his fingers and thumb becoming like dragon's talons, and a powerful, invisible energy—Busoshoku Haki—sheathed them in an aura of immense force. He lunged, not at the body, but at the weapon, his Haki-hardened fingers aiming to shatter a seastone claw before it could fully awaken.
"Ahem! They must be the guardians mentioned in the tertiary mural!" Charlie blurted out, his academic excitement overriding his terror. "The 'Coral Sentinels of the Deep Pact'! Their activation matrix is clearly hydro-static! The draining water must have—"
"Not now, Professor!" Aurélie snapped, Anathema already half-drawn, its black blade seeming to thirst for the ancient metal. Her compound eyes were already partially visible, a sign of her rising tension. "We need to keep moving!"
Kuro's eyes swept over the awakening automata, then back the way they'd come, calculating the crumbling structure. "The rendezvous point is compromised," he stated, his voice coldly analytical. "We should abandon it. Our best chance is to retreat to our vessel. If Miss Clark and Ember possess even a shred of survival instinct, they will deduce the same and attempt to return there."
Charlie's head whipped around. "But we can't just leave them to these... these things!"
"If they survive," Kuro countered, adjusting his spectacles with a gloved hand, "they will have a far better chance of being found by us from the deck of a seaworthy ship than we will by remaining in this collapsing deathtrap. It is the logical course."
Sabo's "Dragon Claw" struck true, shattering one automaton's claw in a shower of seastone shards and pitted metal. But three more were now fully active, moving with a jerky, unnatural grace, their remaining claws slashing through the air with deadly intent. Koala flowed into the space beside him, her hands moving in the fluid circles of Fishman Karate. She didn't strike the metal bodies directly; instead, she struck the air, the moisture around them, sending concussive shockwaves of force through the waterlogged chamber that made the automatons stagger and whir in protest.
"We need to move! Anywhere but here!" Sabo yelled, blocking a seastone swipe that sent sparks flying from his Haki-hardened arm. "This path takes us out! We are out of options! MOVE NOW!"
The chamber was a chaos of clashing metal, concussive blasts, and the ever-present groan of the dying bridge. Their escape was clear, but it was a path that led away from Bianca and Ember, leaving them to whatever fate—and whatever ancient, slashing guardians—lay in the depths.
*****
The rush of their escape from the palace faded into a profound, whispering stillness. They had arrived at the Sea Forest. It was a place out of time, a submerged grove where towering columns of coral, bleached white and furred with ancient, softly waving seaweed, stood like the ruins of a sunken cathedral. The water here was colder, clearer, and filled with a silence so deep it felt like a physical presence. Light fell in great, slanting pillars from the world above, illuminating drifting forests of tiny, starlike polyps and schools of silver fish that moved as one shimmering mind.
Shirahoshi slowed, her powerful tail giving gentle flicks to hold them in place before a simple, beautiful monument carved from a single piece of black coral. It was worn smooth by time and current, adorned with a garland of never-wilting sea blossoms. "This is the Sea Forest," she whispered, her voice hushed by the sanctity of the place. "I've only been here once before."
Marya, standing now on a broad, flat stone nearby, read the elegant engravings on the monument. Her golden eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "Your mother's grave," she stated, her voice quieter than usual, lacking its typical edge. She gave a slow, understanding nod. "I see now."
The princess's gaze was fixed on the memorial, her hands clasped tightly. "Before she passed... I accidentally called the Sea Kings. I was so scared. And I did it again, later, when the island was in terrible danger. But I can't control it." Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and frustration. "There's a legend... about a mermaid princess who could commune with them. But I... I..."
Marya turned fully to face her, her arms uncrossing. She was listening now with her whole being, the strategist in her shelved, replaced by something rarer: focused attention. "But you want to be able to control it," she finished for her.
Shirahoshi nodded, a desperate hope in her large eyes. "I want to be brave. Like I've seen others be. Like... like I see in you."
Marya's head cocked to the side. "What is it you're actually afraid of?"
The princess sucked on her lower lip, considering the question as if she'd never truly been asked it. "I'm afraid of getting hurt," she confessed, her voice small. "And... and the people I care about being hurt because of me."
A faint, almost analytical frown touched Marya's lips. She crossed her arms again. "Do you doubt their abilities? That the people around you lack the capacity to decide for themselves, or care for themselves?"
Shirahoshi's head shot up, startled. "No! Not at all! They're all so strong!"
"Then why worry for them?" Marya asked, her tone not unkind, but straightforward, like a blade cutting to the heart of the matter. "Trust that they can care for themselves. That frees you to focus on your own person, your own wellbeing. Because no one can do that for you. Just as you cannot do it for them."
The logic was so simple, so stark, it seemed to momentarily stun the princess. She nodded slowly, the concept settling over her. "I... I will try."
Marya sighed, a short, soft sound. "But..."
"But they're always trying to take care of me!" Shirahoshi burst out, the conflict clear on her face. "How do I show them I don't need to be coddled?"
A wry smirk finally broke through Marya's stoicism. "Tell me more about this ability of yours. The specifics."
Shirahoshi shook her head, frustration returning. "I've been reading about it. But the book... it's like a riddle. It says they are 'controlled by the song of the sea.' But I don't know what that means!" She wrung her hands. "There's nothing that gives me the steps."
Marya raised an eyebrow. "Maybe there are no steps."
"What do you mean?"
"When my father was teaching me about Observation Haki," Marya said, her gaze turning inward, recalling the memory. "He said you can't just decide to see the future. You have to first learn to feel the intent around you. To sense the energy of life before you can ever hope to see its path in your mind. It's a feeling before it's a sight. Maybe your ability is similar."
Shirahoshi's eyes widened. "How?"
"Close your eyes," Marya instructed, her voice taking on a patient, instructive tone. "Take a deep breath."
The princess obeyed, her long eyelashes fluttering shut.
"Feel the breath move through your body. Don't force it. Just feel it." Marya watched her closely. "Now exhale."
A stream of bubbles drifted from Shirahoshi's lips.
"Do it again. This time, try to see the breath in your mind as it fills you, then as it leaves you."
Shirahoshi was silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I... I can't really see anything," she admitted, her voice laced with disappointment.
"You won't, at first," Marya said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "It takes practice. A lot of it. But could you at least sense it? The feeling of the air moving?"
Shirahoshi was quiet, focusing. "Let me try one more time." She inhaled slowly, held it, then let it out in a long, controlled stream. She nodded. "I think so. Yes, I can sense that."
"Good," Marya said, a note of approval in her voice. "Okay. Now, using that little bit of sense, see if you can be as still as possible—inside and out—and sense for other life. Not the small fish. Something bigger. See if you can feel the Sea Kings near us."
Shirahoshi exhaled, then inhaled again, a deep, settling breath. For a moment, there was nothing but the gentle current and the distant calls of unknown deep-sea creatures. Then, a gasp escaped her. In the darkness behind her eyelids, vast, warm presences began to glow like distant suns, their sheer size and age humming against her newfound awareness.
She squealed, her eyes flying open. "I see something! I mean, I feel them! Big, warm lights, far away but getting closer!"
Marya gave a single, satisfied nod. "Okay. Then you just need to practice. That's your first step."
Shirahoshi's excited expression faltered. "But... I was hoping I would be able to... you know, do it. Now."
Marya's smirk returned. "Well, what did that book you were reading say? The riddle."
"It says that they are 'controlled by the song of the sea,'" Shirahoshi repeated, becoming flustered again. "But I don't know what that means! I don't even know how to sing."
Marya held her chin, considering. "Have you tried singing to them?" she asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Maybe it needs to be taken literally."
The princess blinked. "What would I sing?"
"Do you know this one?" Marya asked. Then, softly, almost hesitantly, she began to hum a few bars of a simple, old lullaby. It was a melody of few notes, haunting and gentle, that spoke of rocking waves and deep, dreamless sleep.
Shirahoshi's eyes widened in recognition. "I know it! My mother... she used to sing that same song to me." Her voice filled with wonder. "You have a beautiful voice!"
Marya's smirk returned, a flicker of something almost shy behind it. "Let's try it. But we may want to move. If this works, you probably don't want a Sea King accidentally damaging your mother's grave."
"Oh! Right!" Shirahoshi agreed, and they moved together to the very edge of the forest, where the white coral pillars gave way to the endless, deep blue of the open ocean.
"Close your eyes," Marya instructed again. "Focus on your breath. Find those shapes in your mind. When you're ready, just... sing."
Shirahoshi nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then another, more steady one. The water around her seemed to still. She began to sing.
Her voice was hesitant at first, a fragile, trembling thread of sound. But as the familiar, comforting melody of her mother's lullaby filled the water, it grew stronger, clearer, more confident. It was a voice of pure, untrained sweetness, a sound that seemed to harmonize with the very currents themselves.
Marya watched, her own breath held. She didn't join in. This was Shirahoshi's moment. She simply stood guard, a silent, steady presence as the princess's song drifted out into the vast, listening blue, a heartfelt invitation sent out on the waves of an ancient melody. The first step had been taken, not through force, but through feeling.
The ancient lullaby, woven from a shared memory of two lost mothers, flowed from Shirahoshi's lips and rippled out into the abyssal blue. It was a sound so pure and heartfelt that even the drifting polyps seemed to slow their dance to listen. Marya watched, a silent sentinel on the princess's palm, her every muscle coiled with a watchful tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with readiness.
Then the water changed.
It wasn't a sound at first, but a pressure, a deep, subsonic hum that vibrated through the bones of the Sea Forest itself. The light began to die, not fading, but being blotted out by immense, impossible shapes gliding from the endless dark of the trench. They were Leviathans, their scales the color of deep-sea stone, their eyes like luminous moons in the sudden twilight. They moved with a silent, terrifying grace that made the water feel thick as syrup.
Marya's hand twitched toward the hilt of Eternal Eclipse. Her instincts screamed at her to interrupt the song, to put herself between the princess and these titans of the deep. "Shirahoshi," she said, her voice low and urgent.
The princess was lost in the melody, in the feeling of connection, her eyes shut tight.
"Shirahoshi," Marya tried again, more firmly.
But the song continued, unwavering. On the third attempt, as the largest of the Sea Kings, a creature with a crest like a mountain range and eyes the size of ship wheels, drew near enough to feel the displacement of its gills, Shirahoshi's eyes snapped open.
Her song cut off in a soft gasp. Her jaw went slack. There was no fear in her expression, only a stunned, reverent awe. Three of the ancient beings hung in the water before her, their gazes fixed upon the tiny mermaid and her human guardian. They did not threaten; they simply were, their presence an undeniable, physical law.
Tentatively, slowly, Shirahoshi raised a hand, reaching out toward the nearest beast. Its skin, rough and etched with patterns older than human history, gently met her fingertips.
Hello, Princess.
The voice wasn't a sound. It was a thought, clear and resonant, that bloomed directly in her mind, warm and deep as the ocean floor.
Shirahoshi gasped, snatching her hand back to cover her mouth. Her wide eyes shot to Marya. "Did you… did you hear them?"
Marya's hand was still on Eclipse's hilt, her knuckles white. "Hear them?" Her voice was tight, her senses stretched to their limit, searching for any hint of aggression.
"They're speaking!" Shirahoshi whispered, her voice full of wonder. "In my head!"
The great eyes of the Sea Kings shifted from the princess to the woman standing in her palm. Their collective gaze was a weight Marya could feel in her soul.
Tell your companion, the voice resonated again within Shirahoshi's mind, we know her path. She should not hesitate.
Shirahoshi's head cocked in confusion, a gesture that was both innocent and profoundly serious. "What do you mean?" she asked the void, not understanding she didn't need to speak aloud.
In response, the colossal creatures began to swim in a slow, deliberate circle around them, a movement that churned the water into gentle whirlpools. Their excitement was a tangible force.
We have been waiting. The pieces are in play. Call for us again, Princess. We will come.
With a final, powerful sweep of tails that sent a current strong enough to sway the ancient coral trees, the Sea Kings turned and descended, melting back into the blackness from whence they came. The light returned, the pressure lifted, and the forest was once again still.
Shirahoshi stared into the empty blue, her expression one of utter bewilderment. "They're gone."
"What did they say?" Marya asked, her voice low and intense, finally releasing her grip on her sword.
The princess turned her bewildered gaze to Marya. "They said… they know your path. And that you shouldn't hesitate." She wrung her hands slightly. "They said they've been waiting, and the pieces are in play. What does that mean?"
Marya's brow furrowed. A cold knot of understanding tightened in her stomach. These ancient powers of the deep, tied to the legend of Poseidon, were speaking of things they should have no knowledge of. Her mission. Her mother's research. The Void. They saw the board, and they were moving pieces.
She let out a long, slow sigh, the sound a release of pent-up tension. The path was being confirmed by the most unlikely of sources.
Shirahoshi watched the complex emotions play out on Marya's usually impassive face. "What is it?" she asked, her voice small.
Marya looked at her, really looked at her. This gentle giantess held a key, not just to the sea, but to something much larger. "The Legend of Kulakana," Marya said, her words measured. "The Sea Devourer. How much do you know?"
Shirahoshi perked up immediately, the cryptic message momentarily forgotten in the face of a topic she loved. "Oh! Yes! It's one of my favorites! The great heart that powers our island!" Then a thought occurred to her, and her face lit up with a generous, excited smile. "Would you like to see it? The real one, I mean? Not the replica at the museum. I can take you there!"
Marya pressed her lips together, a brief internal war between her ingrained suspicion and the staggering opportunity being offered to her on a silver platter. The royal bloodline itself was offering her the key. She gave a single, sharp nod.
"Yes," she said, her voice firm. "Please. I would."