The deep-sea gloom was a thick, velvety blackness that pressed against the viewports of their groaning, battered submarine. The only light came from the weak, greenish glow of the console dials, painting the faces of its occupants in sickly shades. The air smelled of stale sweat, cold metal, and the faint, coppery tang.
Marya Zaleska sat at the helm, her posture straight, her hands resting lightly on the worn controls. The Heart Pirates insignia on her leather jacket was scuffed and dusty from the fortress of Metz-Oni. Her expression was its usual mask of calm, but a tightness around her golden eyes betrayed the strain. Behind her, Jelly Squish wobbled nervously, his azure form emitting soft, pulsing glows of anxiety. Jannali Bandler leaned against a bulkhead, arms crossed, her expressive eyes scanning the dark water outside with a hunter's patience. Beside her, Eliane Anđel shivered, wrapped in a borrowed blanket, her silver ponytail limp and her usually bright face pale.
Dr. Zip H. Scatyl occupied the farthest corner, looking profoundly out of place. His pristine white medical coat was a stark flag of otherness in the grimy cabin. He adjusted his stethoscope for the hundredth time, his yellow eyes darting between the others as if calculating their respective expiration dates.
"We should be in range," Marya said, her voice cutting the hum of the engines. She reached for the communication console. Her fingers, calloused and marked with the creeping black veins of Nisshoku's curse, pressed the transmit switch.
"Dreadnought Thalassa, this is Marya. Come in, Dreadnought Thalassa."
The static that replied was the empty hiss of the abyss. It stretched for three long heartbeats. Jelly let out a tiny, worried "Bloop…"
Then, a voice, crackling with interference but unmistakably Bianca's, laced with her signature verbal tic, burst through. "Like, copy! I am here! Signal's, like, kinda crap, though!"
A fraction of the tension left Marya's shoulders. "Copy. We are on our way to the rendezvous point. ETA twenty—"
"Like, negative!" Bianca's voice cut in, sharp and urgent. "Change of plans. I, like, had to move. Stand by for new coordinates."
A series of rapid, encrypted pings chimed from the navigational array. Marya's brow furrowed, the only outward sign of her concern. Her eyes flickered over the new numbers scrolling across a cloudy screen. "Copy. Coordinates received. Adjusting course."
"Like, copy. Like, see you soon. And Marya? Like, hurry, yeah?" The line went dead, leaving a silence that felt heavier than before.
Jannali pushed off the wall, her hoop earrings catching the faint light. "What's all that about, then? Didn't sound like she was talking about the weather."
"It means something went wrong," Marya stated simply, her hands already moving over the controls, turning the slow craft onto its new heading. The submarine groaned in protest, a shiver running through its stressed frame.
"Something else, you mean," Jannali muttered, casting a look at the shivering Eliane. "On top of everything."
Finding the new rendezvous was a tense game of hide-and-seek in a drowned mountain range. Finally, the colossal, shadowy bulk of the Dreadnought Thalassa resolved out of the darkness, a sleeping leviathan nestled against a sheer underwater cliff. Its hull, a seamless black alloy woven with Seastone, absorbed the light from their craft, making it look like a hole in the world. A docking bay door irised open silently, revealing a glowing orange chamber within.
Their small sub was swallowed whole.
The interior of the docking bay was vast, echoing, and smelled of ancient lubricants, fresh solder, and something like old books. As the hatch of their sub hissed open, the first thing they saw was Bianca Yvonne Clark, silhouetted against the warm light. She had a sonic wrench hooked into the belt of her grease-stained overalls, her black hair was a chaotic escape from its bun, and a fresh smudge of something orange adorned her cheek.
"Like, yo!" she called, her hands on her hips. "You're, like, late." Her bright eyes immediately scanned past Marya, searching the small group emerging from the sub. Her face fell, the playful sarcasm draining away. "Like, where… where is everyone else? Galit? Vesta? Atlas?"
Before Marya could answer, a flash of ginger hair and a blur of red parka shot past Bianca. Sanza Kaplan Figarland skidded to a halt in front of Marya, his heavy Gallagher eyebrows lifted in genuine relief. "Big Sis!" he declared with his peculiar, formal cheer.
From behind Bianca's legs, a shimmering, smoky-grey coyote form padded into view. Mikasi blinked his golden eyes at the newcomers, his head tilting in silent, curious assessment.
Jannali's gaze slid from the excited child to Marya, one of her own eyebrows arching high. "Big Sis?" she drawled, the tang lilt rich with implication.
Marya closed her eyes for a brief second and shook her head. "Long story."
Eliane, trying to step down from the sub hatch, stumbled. Her knees buckled. Jannali moved faster than anyone would have thought possible, catching the girl before she hit the deck. "Whoa, easy there, chef."
"M'okay," Eliane mumbled, but her skin was hot to the touch even through her chef's jacket.
Jannali pressed the back of her hand to Eliane's forehead and scowled. "The hell you are. You're burning up, mate."
A soft shimmer of light coalesced into Halia's graceful form nearby. Her large, whirlpool eyes swept over Eliane, patterns of ancient script dancing in their depths. "Internal sensors confirm a significant bio-signature fluctuation. Elevated temperature, adrenal fatigue, and energy depletion. The medical bay is prepared. Dr. Octavious is standing by."
Dr. Zip H. Scatyl took a neat, careful step forward, his gloves making a soft shhk sound as he rubbed his fingers together. "A fascinating presentation. The pyrokinesis-based metabolic surge followed by a cascade collapse. I may be able to offer a specialized—"
"Yeah, nah," Jannali cut him off, her voice flat and cold as she smoothly scooped Eliane up into her arms, ignoring the girl's weak protest. She fixed the ogre doctor with a look that could curdle milk. "We're all good here. I've got her." Her tone made it clear the discussion was over.
Bianca finally tore her worried gaze from the empty sub hatch and back to Marya. "Seriously. Like, where is everyone?"
Marya pinched the bridge of her nose, a rare public display of sheer weariness. "It didn't go as planned."
"Like, did you even have a plan?" Bianca cocked her hip and flipping her wrist in exasperation.
As Jannali walked past, carrying Eliane toward the arched corridor Halia indicated, Sanza peered up at the unconscious girl in her arms, then at Jannali's stern face. "Who is she?" he asked, his tone one of clinical curiosity.
Jannali looked down at him, unimpressed. "Who are you?"
Sanza drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height, puffed out his chest, and delivered his lines with rehearsed gravity. "I am Sanza Kaplan Figarland, Scion of House Figarland, and future Supreme Commander of the Holy Knights." He said it like he was announcing the tide.
Jannali stared at him for a long beat. A slow, humorless smile spread across her face. "A Celestial Dragon. How lovely for us." She didn't stop walking. "C'mon, kid's gotta lie down."
Bianca watched them go, then threw her hands up. "Right! Okay! So, like, we've got a sick chef, a celestial stowaway, a creepy doctor, and, like, half the crew missing! Like, we can all go and have a nice cuppa and catch up!" The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to walk on.
In Jannali's arms, Eliane stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent about kimchi. Mikasi the coyote trotted after them, his form flickering momentarily into the shape of a harmonica on legs before resolving back into a canine, as if offering his own bizarre brand of help.
The docking bay fell into a strained silence, filled only with the deep, living hum of the ancient submarine and the unspoken weight of failures, narrow escapes, and a rescue mission that was already spiraling into something far more desperate. They were together, but they were fractured, adrift in the deep, with storm clouds gathering on a horizon they couldn't even see.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving Dracule Marya Zaleska a Power Stone! It helps the novel climb the rankings and get more eyes on our story!
Thank you for sailing with us! 🏴☠️ Your support means so much!
Want to see the Dreadnought Thalassa blueprints? Or unlock the true power of Goddess Achlys?
Join the Dracule Marya Zaleska crew on Patreon to get exclusive concept art, deep-dive lore notes, and access to our private Discord community! You make the New World adventure possible.
Become a Crewmate and Unlock the Lore:
https://patreon.com/An1m3N3rd?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink
Thanks so much for your support and loving this story as much as I do!