The failure of WolfLozi's attempt cast a new, more sinister light on the Calm. The placid water now seemed like a deceptive lid on a boiling pot. The cave mouth, a jagged tear in the rock face at the lagoon's edge, yawned like a hungry maw, the black water within seeming to absorb the very light from the sky.
Vincinzo was the first to act. Without a word, he signaled his flagship, the Iron Scripture. The massive dreadnought began to move slowly, ponderously, toward the cave entrance. It was a bold, arrogant move—to take a ship of that size into an unknown, clearly trapped tunnel.
"The fool," muttered Mr. Rookiepasta. "He'll get himself stuck and block the entrance for everyone."
But Vincinzo was no fool. As the Iron Scripture approached the cave, teams of crewmen on smaller skiffs scrambled ahead, using long poles to probe the depth and attaching glowing aether-charms to the cave walls, illuminating the first hundred yards of the passage. The interior was vast, easily large enough to accommodate the dreadnought. The walls were not natural rock; they were smooth, fused stone, striated with veins of a faintly pulsating green mineral that provided an eerie, ambient light.
"It's not a cave," Ben realized aloud. "It's a throat."
The Leviathan's Tomb was literally the remains of the creature's gullet. The realization was both awe-inspiring and horrifying.
Yūe Cleoda, seeing Vincinzo's methodical advance, did not follow with the Sea Dart. Instead, she launched a trio of sleek, metallic submersibles from her ship's belly. They slipped into the water without a sound and vanished into the darkness ahead of the Iron Scripture. Reconnaissance. The Guardian way.
Goyo Eminex, ever the pragmatist, chose a middle path. He ordered the Frost-Reaver to hold position at the entrance, a guardian of the gate, while he and a dozen of his best warriors boarded a reinforced longship and began rowing into the tomb behind Vincinzo's skirmishers.
"We're not waiting for an invitation," Mr. Rookiepasta decided. "Goyle, take the helm. Hold the Harpy here. Ben, you're with me. We take the jolly boat." He fixed Ben with a stern look. "Do exactly as I say. No heroics. What happens in there… it's older and darker than any of us."
As they prepared to lower the small boat, Ben saw Oukoto Beaketr still standing on the deck of his odd ship, the Ottahen. He made no move to enter the tomb. He simply watched, a silent observer noting the opening moves of a great game.
The journey into the tomb was a descent into another world. The air grew cold and thick, smelling of wet stone, ages-old decay, and something else—a sharp, ozone tang, like after a lightning strike. The pulsating green veins in the walls cast long, dancing shadows. The only sounds were the drip of water, the soft splash of their oars, and the distant, echoing noises from Vincinzo's party ahead.
They had not gone far when they found the first Guardian submersible. It was floating, inert, its metal hull scratched and dented as if by massive claws. There was no sign of the crew.
"The tomb's guardians are awake," Mr. Rookiepasta said grimly.
Further on, the tunnel widened into a colossal cavern. The ceiling was lost in darkness high above. The water here was studded with jagged, tooth-like stalagmites. In the center of the cavern, the Iron Scripture had been forced to stop. Its way was blocked by a massive, intricate gate made of what appeared to be woven bone and fossilized sinew. It was a biological lock, pulsing with a faint, sickly light.
Vincinzo's men were already attempting to breach it, using plasma cutters that sizzled and sparked against the organic material. But for every cut they made, the bone and sinew seemed to regenerate, knitting itself back together almost instantly.
Eminex's longship pulled up alongside them. "Your fire is useless against this old magic," the Viking scoffed. He gestured to his shamans. They began to chant, their voices echoing in the vast space. Frost spread from their outstretched hands, crawling over the bone gate. The regeneration slowed, the material becoming brittle.
It was a temporary solution, but it was working. A crack began to form.
As the two pirate factions worked in an uneasy tandem, Ben felt the familiar, hollow ache in his chest. The wind's favor was stirring, not in response to danger, but to the gate itself. It was as if the lock was singing a song, a silent frequency, and the power inside him was humming along, resonating with it.
He didn't realize he was moving until his father grabbed his arm. "Ben? What are you doing?"
Ben shook his head, his eyes glued to the gate. "It's… it's not a lock you break. It's a lock you… answer."
He pulled away from his father's grip and stepped to the prow of their jolly boat. He closed his eyes, focusing on the hum in his chest, on the silent song of the gate. He remembered his father's words about the code, the rhythm of the light. This was the same, but deeper. A rhythm of life and death.
He took a step. Not a physical step. A step inside his mind, a step into the current of the resonance.
And the gate responded.
The pulsating light in the bone and sinew flared brightly, then settled into a new, steady rhythm. A series of symbols, similar to the glyphs on the platform outside, glowed briefly on its surface. With a sound like a deep, relieved sigh, the great bone gate began to unravel itself, the strands retracting into the walls, clearing the passage.
The cavern fell silent. The plasma cutters sputtered out. The shamans' chants died on their lips. Every eye—Vincinzo's, Eminex's, the crewmen's—turned to the small jolly boat and the thin boy standing at its front.
Ben opened his eyes, bewildered by the sudden silence and the open path ahead. He saw the stunned, hungry looks on the faces of the most dangerous pirates in the world. He had not just opened a gate. He had revealed himself as the key.
Vincinzo's lips curved into a slow, chilling smile. "The variable," he whispered, echoing Oukoto Beaketr. "How… fascinating."
The path deeper into the Leviathan's Tomb was now open. But for Ben, the walls of his own predicament had just closed in tighter than any cave.