Darkness swallowed the throne chamber.
Stone sheared. Coral pillars snapped like brittle bone. The sea roared inward as ancient wards finally gave way beneath the Sovereign's ascent.
And in the moment the fissure exploded—
Caelum let go.
Not of Aerin.
Of the throne.
The realization struck her even as the floor vanished beneath them.
He had released his hold on the palace wards entirely—withdrawn every thread of authority he had been using to keep the chamber intact—and redirected it.
Into them.
Current wrapped around Aerin and Noctyrr like a second skin just as they fell. It did not feel like the sea's command.
It felt like sacrifice.
They plunged.
The world inverted into rushing black water and shards of shattered coral. Above them, the chamber ceiling imploded. Below, the trench yawned open, vast and waiting.
