The bone china bead lay embedded in Lila's palm, its surface slick with her blood. The word "Mother" pulsed with bioluminescent blue, matching the veins spreading across her chest. I grabbed her wrist, my porcelain fingers cold against her feverish skin.
"Let go," she whispered, her voice no longer childlike. It was deeper, layered with a chorus of whispers. "It's time."
The ground shook, and the sea surged, a wall of water rising beyond the cliffs. At its crest, a figure stood—the fetus from the sarcophagus, now fully formed, its body half-porcelain, half-human.
"Wake me," it said, its voice resonating in my skull.
Lila pulled free, her eyes now milky white. "It's not a monster. It's my sister."
I staggered back, the dagger slipping from my grasp. The sand beneath me shifted, revealing a network of glowing veins—bone china roots spreading from Lila's feet.
Dr. Ellis emerged from the waves, her body half-dissolved into tendrils. "The first keeper's daughter was never born. She merged with the Deep. And now… she's waking."
Lila smiled, her teeth sharpening into needles. "The Deep isn't a parasite. It's a womb. And I'm the key."
The fetus raised its hand, and the veins beneath us flared. Lila's body levitated, her skin cracking as porcelain scales spread from her chest to her face.
"Stop this!" I shouted, lunging for her.
Dr. Ellis wrapped tendrils around my ankles. "You can't. The ritual has already begun."
The fetus's voice echoed in my mind: "Join us. Become the father."
Images flooded my vision—Lila as a child, playing in the lighthouse; the first keeper's journal, its pages burning; the fetus, now a woman, cradling a bone china infant.
"Wake her," the chorus whispered.
Lila's body shattered, dissolving into a cloud of porcelain shards. The fetus absorbed them, its form expanding into a towering figure—a woman with Lila's face, her body a patchwork of bone and ocean.
"The Mother," Dr. Ellis said, her voice trembling. "She will birth a new world."
The sea roared, and the Mother's eyes opened. "Wake," she said, her voice a tsunami.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bead in my chest.
The world dissolved.
I opened my eyes.
I stood in a vast, submerged city, its buildings made of bone china, their surfaces alive with wriggling tendrils. The Mother loomed above, her face now a mix of Lila and the first keeper's daughter.
"You're the bridge," she said, her voice softening. "Not to destroy. To connect."
I reached for her, and she dissolved into tendrils, merging with my porcelain skin.
I opened my eyes.
I stood on the beach, the sun warm on my skin. Lila stood next to me, her eyes normal, her hand empty.
"What happened?" she asked.
I looked at my hands—the scales were gone, replaced by smooth, unmarked skin. The bead in my chest had faded.
"The Deep is… balanced," I said. "It's part of me now, and I'm part of it."
Lila nodded, her face solemn. "What now?"
I smiled faintly. "Now, we rebuild."
But as we turned to leave, the ground shook, and a fissure opened at my feet, oozing red fluid. The bead in my chest pulsed, and I felt the Deep's presence—weaker, but still there.
"Not yet," I said, staring at the fissure. "It's still here."
Lila took my hand, her grip firm. "We'll fight it. Together."
The sea roared, and a new wave rose—smaller, but still menacing. At its crest, a figure stood—the Mother, now fully formed, her body half-porcelain, half-human.
"Wake me," she said, her voice a whisper in the wind.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bead.
The wave receded, and the fissure sealed.
When I opened my eyes, the beach was calm again.
Lila smiled. "We did it."
But as we turned to leave, a single bone china bead washed ashore, its surface etched with a single word:
"Father."