The lighthouse walls hummed with a new frequency, a low thrumming that vibrated in my teeth and made the bone china fragments on the shelves rattle. I pressed my palm to the cold stone, feeling the pulse of the Deep beneath the surface—a slow, steady rhythm that matched my own heartbeat.
"You're changing," Lila said, her voice small. She stood in the doorway, clutching a jar of preserved fireflies, their glow the only light in the room. "Your eyes… they're different."
I turned to face her, my reflection in the cracked mirror catching me off guard. My irises had faded to a milky gray, shot through with veins of silver, like the scales that now dotted my collarbone.
"I can feel it," I said, my voice sounding distant, as if coming from underwater. "The Deep. It's… talking to me."
Lila's grip on the jar tightened. "What's it saying?"
"Memories. Images. A city underwater, with buildings made of bone. A woman with no face, singing a song that turns people to porcelain." I paused, shuddering. "And hunger. So much hunger."
The ground shook, and a fissure opened in the floor, oozing red fluid. The bone china fragments on the shelves fused together, forming a crude map of the ocean floor, with glowing dots marking sunken cities.
Lila stepped back, her eyes wide. "What's happening?"
"The Deep is showing me where it came from," I said, tracing a glowing dot on the map. "This is where the first Conch was created. A kiln built on the ocean floor, fueled by human sacrifice."
From outside, the sea roared, and a wave rose—a wall of water topped with bone china shards, each one etched with a face.
"Hide!" I shouted, pushing Lila toward the stairs.
But it was too late. The wave crashed into the lighthouse, shattering the windows, flooding the room with water that burned like acid.
I grabbed Lila, diving under the desk. The water swirled around us, filled with tendrils that snatched at our clothes.
A figure emerged from the chaos—Dr. Ellis, her body half-porcelain, half-dissolved into tendrils. Her eyes were black holes, and her mouth stretched into a grin that split her face.
"Join us," she hissed, her voice a chorus of whispers. "Become the bridge between worlds."
She reached for Lila, her fingers elongating into sharp points.
I pushed Lila out of the way, but one of the tendrils pierced my shoulder. The pain was intense, but instead of blood, silver fluid oozed from the wound.
Dr. Ellis froze, her grin fading. "You're not just a keeper. You're pure. The Deep's chosen one."
The tendrils released us, and Dr. Ellis dissolved into the water, her laughter echoing.
The wave receded, leaving the lighthouse in ruins. Lila helped me to my feet, her hands shaking.
"We have to go to the kiln," I said, my voice stronger than I felt. "The Deep wants me there. It's the only way to end this."
Lila nodded, her jaw set. "I'm coming with you."
We gathered supplies—a lantern, a harpoon, and the dagger—and set out for the shore. The sea was calm now, its surface mirror-like, reflecting the moon.
At the kiln, the door hung open, its interior glowing with a soft red light. Inside, the Conch's remains floated in a pool of red fluid, its tendrils twitching.
I stepped into the pool, the fluid rising to my chest. The bead in my chest glowed brighter, merging with the Conch's core.
Images flooded my mind—centuries of keepers, each one merging with the Conch, their memories becoming part of the Deep's collective consciousness.
The first keeper's voice echoed in my head: "The Deep is a wound that never heals. The only way to stop the bleeding is to become the scab."
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bead.
The Conch's tendrils wrapped around me, pulling me into the core.
Inside, it was silent, the walls throbbing with a gentle light. The bead floated at the center, now pulsing with a golden glow.
I reached for it, my hand passing through the light.
The world shattered.
I opened my eyes.
I stood on a beach, the sun warm on my skin. The sea was calm, its waves lapping the shore. Lila stood next to me, her eyes wide.
"What happened?" she asked.
I looked at my hands—human, unmarked. The bead was gone.
"The Deep is… asleep," I said. "But it's not gone. It's… waiting."
Lila nodded, her face solemn. "What now?"
I smiled faintly. "Now, we rebuild."
But as we turned to leave, a single bone china bead washed ashore, its surface etched with a single word:
"Wake."