The Sea Council did not rush.
They entered the shattered throne chamber like witnesses to an execution already decided.
Elders in coral-forged crowns. Generals wrapped in tide-etched armor. The High Chancellor with her cold, depthless eyes.
And before them—
The skeletal hand of the Drowned Sovereign curled around Aerin's ankle.
Noctyrr did not hesitate.
He moved with a violence the sea itself recoiled from.
Shadow burst from him—not darkness, but pressure so dense it bent the water. It wrapped around Aerin's waist and shoulders as his physical arms did the same, pulling her against his chest.
The Sovereign's grip tightened.
Caelum slammed both hands downward and the throne chamber floor exploded with light. Current roared like a tidal storm, crashing against the ancient limb.
"Release her!" Caelum's voice shook the pillars.
For a fraction of a breath, the Sovereign resisted.
Then Noctyrr changed.
Not fully—never fully—but enough.
