The waters of the Shivering Sea were restless.
Even in the depths of Submareth, where the city's coral palaces and obsidian towers gleamed beneath bioluminescent lantern-fish, the tide carried an unease.
Thalassaria reclined before her scrying pool, her teal leylines glowing faintly in the dim chamber.
The mirror of water rippled with images of the surface: Caedrion Ferrondel, leading his army across the fields, banners snapping in the wind.
Her lips parted, and her voice was little more than a whisper.
"My little land-dweller… again you march into danger."
The Naga queen's long fingers brushed across the water's surface.
Each ripple sharpened the image of Caedrion on his horse, his armor dark and glimmering with Architect's runes.
Around him, thousands of soldiers marched in lockstep, disciplined and proud.
To any other, it was a terrifying host. To her, it was beautiful, because it was his.
