The red light from the kiln turned the alley into a nightmare. Shadows stretched,扭曲 like melting wax, and the air hummed with a frequency that made my teeth ache. Xiao Xu and I ran, our feet splashing through puddles that steamed where the light touched them.
Behind us, Ma's screams cut off abruptly.
"Keep going!" Xiao Xu shouted, her voice trembling. "If the Conch fully wakes—"
A roar drowned her out. Not the low growl from before—this was a banshee's shriek, high-pitched and primal, as if the kiln itself was screaming. The ground split open, cracks spreading like veins, oozing that same red fluid from the Conch.
We skidded to a halt. The kiln door had blown off its hinges, lying in the alley like a charred tongue. Inside, the fire burned hotter, brighter, its flames now a deep, pulsing crimson.
And at the center of it all—the Conch.
It had grown, expanding to the size of a human torso, its seedpod now a gaping maw lined with needle-like teeth. The tendrils had multiplied, writhing like a nest of snakes, each tipped with an eye that glowed crimson.
But it wasn't alone.
Hovering above the Conch, half-submerged in the flames, was a figure.
Not a human. A mass. Shapeless, formless, shifting like oil on water, its edges dissolving into tendrils that merged with the kiln's fire. Its "face" was a漩涡 of eyes, thousands of them, all fixed on me.
"The mother," Xiao Xu whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar.
The Conch trilled, a sound like a thousand glass marbles dropped on concrete. The mother's tendrils reached down, merging with the Conch's own, and the red fluid in the cracks began to boil.
"Run!" Xiao Xu shoved me backward.
We turned, but the alley was blocked.
The crowd from before stood there, their faces blank, eyes milky. Ma was among them, his leg still bleeding from the harpoon, but he didn't seem to notice. He smiled, his filed teeth glinting.
"Too late," he said. "She's here."
The crowd advanced, their movements jerky, inhuman. Some dragged chains; others brandished bone china shards.
Xiao Xu raised her harpoon. "We need to get to the pier. There's a boat—"
A tendril shot from the kiln, wrapping around her ankle. She screamed, dropping the harpoon.
I grabbed her arm, yanking her free. The tendril hissed, retreating into the fire.
"Go!" she shouted, pushing me toward the pier. "I'll hold them off!"
I didn't argue. I ran, the ground shaking underfoot. The sea beyond the pier churned, black waves crashing against the pilings, their foam glowing faintly green.
At the end of the pier, a boat bobbed—a small, wooden rowboat, its hull scarred with barnacles. I jumped in, fumbling with the oars.
"Wait!" Xiao Xu's voice cut through the chaos.
I turned. She was sprinting toward me, her clothes torn, her arm bleeding. Behind her, the crowd advanced, now joined by figures made of red fluid—shapeless, formless, their "faces" stretched into grotesque masks.
"Hurry!" I shouted, reaching for her.
She leaped, landing in the boat just as the first fluid figure reached the pier. It melted into the wood, dissolving it like acid.
I rowed with everything I had, the oars slicing through the water. The mother's roar followed us, the sound so intense it made my ears bleed.
Xiao Xu collapsed in the bottom of the boat, gasping. "Head for the lighthouse. It's the only place left with dry land."
I nodded, steering toward the faint light on the horizon.
The sea grew calmer as we put distance between us and the alley, but the air remained thick with the smell of rot. Xiao Xu's breathing slowed, and she sat up, inspecting her arm.
"The fluid," she said, gesturing to the cuts. "It's spreading. I can feel it… eating."
I looked closer. Her skin around the wounds was turning translucent, veins visible beneath, but they were silver, not blue.
"I'm sorry," I said. "If I hadn't touched that paperweight—"
She shook her head. "It's not your fault. The Conch would've found someone else. It always does."
We rowed in silence for a while, the lighthouse growing larger. As we approached, I saw it wasn't a traditional lighthouse—instead of a white tower, it was a jagged black spire, its surface covered in carvings of tentacles and seedpods.
"Welcome to the Eye of the Deep," Xiao Xu said, her voice bitter. "My family built it to watch the Conch. Now it's the only place left where the deep can't reach."
We docked at a small stone quay. The lighthouse door was ajar, creaking in the wind. Inside, the walls were lined with shelves holding more bone china fragments, their beads cracked, oozing red.
At the center of the room was a pedestal, holding a single object—a bone china jar, its lid sealed with wax.
Xiao Xu approached it, her hand trembling. "This is what's left of my great-grandfather. He… merged with the porcelain to contain the Conch. But it wasn't enough."
She pried the lid off. Inside, a single bone bead glowed faintly, its surface etched with tiny runes.
"The last binding," she said. "If we can get this into the Conch's maw, it might… reabsorb it. Send the mother back to the deep."
"Might?"
She met my eyes. "It's a risk. But it's the only chance we have."
From outside came a low, rumbling growl. The sea churned, and a wave rose—taller than the lighthouse, its crest frothing with bone china shards.
Xiao Xu grabbed the bead, shoving it into my hand. "You have to do it. The Conch marked you. It'll let you close enough."
"I don't know how—"
"You'll figure it out," she said, pushing me toward the door. "I'll hold off the mother's servants. Go!"
I ran, the bead clutched in my hand. The wave loomed closer, and I could see faces in the foam—hundreds of them, all screaming, all reaching for me.
The Conch's trill echoed across the water, and I felt it then—a pull, deep in my bones, urging me to return.
I closed my eyes, took a breath, and dived into the water.
The cold shocked me, but the bead glowed brighter, warming my hand. The water around me turned red, then black, then…
I opened my eyes.
I was underwater, but I could breathe. The Conch hovered before me, its maw open, tendrils writhing. The mother's mass loomed behind it, a shadow of eyes and teeth.
I swam closer, the bead burning like a brand.
The Conch's tendrils wrapped around me, pulling me into the maw.
I didn't resist.
Inside, it was dark, but the bead illuminated the walls—covered in carvings of drowned cities, of people merging with porcelain, of the mother rising from the depths.
At the center, a hollow space, throbbing with red light.
I placed the bead there.
The Conch screamed.
The water around me exploded, and I was thrown upward, breaking the surface.
The wave had receded, the mother's mass dissolving into the depths. The Conch floated on the water, its tendrils limp, the bead now a part of its maw.
Xiao Xu stood on the quay, her arm now fully translucent, her face paler than before.
"Did it work?" she asked.
I nodded. "I think so."
She smiled, then collapsed.
I ran to her, catching her before she hit the ground.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "The fluid… it's too late for me."
I held her as her skin turned to porcelain, her eyes fading to white.
When she was gone, I buried her in the sand, placing the Conch's bead on her chest.
The sea was calm now, the lighthouse silent.
I turned to leave, but stopped.
A figure stood at the edge of the quay—tall, cloaked, its face hidden in shadow.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice shaking.
It stepped forward, and in its hand was a bone china paperweight—small, unassuming, its beads smooth and unbroken.
"The new keeper," it said, its voice like a whisper in the wind. "And you're coming with me."
Before I could react, it grabbed my arm, and the world went dark.