Soon the grey waves of the bay slowly washed into blue as the HAS Tidedrifter cruised out into the open ocean. Steel blue waves slammed against the hull of the iron beast, peeling away in sheets as it hauled itself along through the water.
I folded the newspaper shut and let it rest against my knees, breathing in the cold, salty air. It carried the faint tang of rust and oil beneath it—kind of comforting, in a way. The breeze was light, not forceful enough to sting, and just enough to remind me I was far from shore.
There hadn't been anything new in the Archmage's Constabulary column. Just a clipped summary of the dockside incident, carefully stripped of anything resembling detail, followed by the usual warning to remain vigilant and report suspicious activity.
I sighed and closed the paper with a rustle. For a while after that, I did nothing but watch the sea stretch endlessly outward, seabirds streaking past in flashes of white and grey. Some skimmed the surface so closely their wings kissed the water; others wheeled higher, crying sharply before vanishing into the distance.
Time blurred, and the hours passed quietly.
*Bu-u-ung, bu-u-unggggg*
I nearly jumped out of my skin as the ship's horn roared overhead. A moment later, the PA crackled to life.
"Attention to all passengers—we have arrived at our destination and will be diving shortly. Please stand by. All passengers on deck, please locate a rail and hold on tight."
…Diving?
I was confused by the message but saw the others who were on deck grab hold of the railing and copied them.
*Crackle, crackle, jijijijijijikkkkkk*
The voice came back over the PA again. "Please ensure you are holding on to a stationary object. We will be diving in three, two, one—"
"Shit—!"
On the count of one, the HAS Tidedrifter tilted forward further and further, its bow cresting just above the waves—before plunging below.
My heart jumped as I braced for the impact of wintry water crashing over the deck—until I realized that a transparent, spherical barrier had sprung into existence, surrounding the ship as it slipped underneath the waves and sunk into the world below.
I sucked in a breath. "What the hell?"
The ocean pressed in from all sides, dark and immense, held at bay by a shimmering barrier that glowed faintly with sigils I didn't recognize.
We sank deeper and the light around us dimmed in layers. Sunbeams fractured as they filtered down through the water, scattering into pale ribbons that drifted across the barrier.
Shapes moved around us.
Schools of silver fish spiraled away in synchronized bursts, their scales catching the light like scattered coins.
Long strands of kelp-like plants waved lazily in unseen currents, their fronds tipped with bioluminescent buds that pulsed softly as we passed.
Massive anemone colonies clung to jagged rock spires below, their translucent tendrils unfurling and recoiling like breathing fingers.
I spotted slow-moving silhouettes in the distance—enormous, whale-like forms with countless fins, their bodies etched with faint glowing lines as they glided through the deep.
Something brushed close to the barrier.
I flinched, but it was only a jellyfish the size of a carriage, drifting serenely by, its bell rippling with internal light.
Then, gradually, the water ahead began to pale. It was as though the ocean itself was thinning, dissolving into a luminous white haze. The deeper we descended, the less real the sea felt, until even the creatures faded into silhouettes and then nothing at all.
The barrier brightened in response, runes flaring softly along its surface.
*Crackle, crackle, jijijijijijikkkkkk*
"Attention all passengers and crew, we have arrived at Chrysanthemum academy. Crew, please conduct docking procedures. Passengers, please collect your personal items from your bunks."
The white mist faded and the ship leveled out. We were sailing normally again, waves lapping gently against the hull. But the ocean was different now, darker and glass-smooth.
I stared ahead of us.
In reality, calling it an academy would have been an understatement.
At its heart stood a colossal spire, its white stone ribbed with sweeping buttresses and delicate, curling walkways that spiraled upward like the petals of an unfurling flower.
Bridges arched between its tiers at odd angles, connecting balconies and towers that seemed to have grown organically rather than been built.
Surrounding the spire sprawled a dense cluster of buildings: towering victorian blocks of dark brick and pale stone, crowned with ironwork balconies, narrow windows, and steep, slate roofs.
Gas-lamp posts lined walkways between them, their glass chimneys glowing faintly. Tall arches framed courtyards below, while clock towers and observation decks loomed overhead, their silhouettes cutting sharply against the sky—or, I should say, the ocean.
*Bu-reu-reu!*
With a rumbling groan, the HAS Tidedrifter slid to a halt alongside a port.
I raced back down below to grab my bag before following the rush of people up to the deck, where disembarking had already begun.
I'd arrived.