Location: The Iron Graveyard. Depth: 6,400 meters.
The ocean floor here was a museum of disasters.
Skeletons of ancient warships, rusted submarines, and fallen cargo jets lay piled on top of each other, twisted into jagged sculptures of metal and death.
Elara glided through the wreckage in her Siren-IV exoskeleton. The suit was a masterpiece of engineering—liquid chrome that acted like a second skin, amplifying her strength fifty times over.
[ Stealth Mode Active, ] L.O.R.E whispered in her ear. [I am detecting him. He is waiting on the flight deck of that submerged aircraft carrier. Sector 4.]
"Stay hidden, L.O.R.E," Elara commanded. "If he twitches, blow him up."
[With pleasure, Dr. Vance.]
Elara engaged her thrusters. She wasn't here to negotiate. She was here to dominate.
She spotted him.
Caspian Thorne stood on the edge of the rusted deck, a solitary figure in a matte-black pressure suit. He wasn't hiding. He was leaning against a 100-year-old anti-aircraft gun, waiting for her like a ghost waiting for judgment.
He looked... tired. Even through the thick deep-sea water, his posture radiated a heavy, ancient exhaustion.
Elara didn't slow down.
She accelerated.
BOOM.
She slammed into him with the force of a torpedo.
Before Caspian could react, Elara had him pinned against the rotting steel hull of the carrier. Her arm-blade extended—a crackling edge of blue plasma—hovering just an inch from his helmet's visor.
"Give me one reason," Elara hissed, her voice amplified by her suit speakers. "One reason why I shouldn't finish what you started a thousand years ago."
Caspian didn't struggle. He didn't even activate his own shields. Through his visor, Elara could see his eyes—dark, intense, and frustratingly calm.
"Hello to you too, Elara," he said, his voice rough over the comms channel.
"Answer me!" Elara pressed the blade closer. The heat of the plasma made the water boil around his neck.
"Because you need this," Caspian said.
He slowly moved his hand to his chest pouch. Elara tensed, ready to slice him in half. But he didn't pull out a weapon.
He pulled out a rag, unwrapped it, and held up a jagged, circular object.
It was a Bronze Astrolabe. Ancient. Covered in barnacles and verdigris. It looked like trash, but Elara's suit sensors went wild.
[Warning: High Energy Signature Detected,] L.O.R.E chimed in. [That object... it matches the Magellan Code frequency.]
"Sterling thinks the Ark is a spaceship," Caspian said, his breathing heavy. "He thinks he can fly away from the mess he made. But we know better, don't we?"
He held the Astrolabe out to her. It was a gesture of total surrender.
"This is the Navigator's Key," Caspian continued. "I stole it from Sterling's private vault an hour ago. That's why they fired the torpedoes."
Elara stared at him. "You stole the most valuable artifact on Earth... for me?"
"For us," he corrected. "Take it."
Elara hesitated. Her logical mind screamed TRAP, but her blood—her mermaid blood—was singing.
She reached out with her mechanical hand.
The moment her metal fingertips brushed the bronze surface, the ocean seemed to hold its breath.
Hummmmm.
The rusted Astrolabe didn't crumble. Instead, it ignited.
A brilliant web of neon-blue light erupted from the artifact, washing over both of them. The light traveled up Elara's arm, bypassing her suit's circuits and warming her very skin.
It also traveled to Caspian.
For a split second, the data stream on Elara's HUD went crazy.
[Subject Analysis: Caspian Thorne.] [Heart Rate: 120 BPM.] [Sync Rate: 100%.] [Warning: Subject's bio-rhythm is perfectly synchronized with yours. Probability: Impossible.]
Elara gasped. She pulled back, but the light connected them like a tether.
"What are you?" she whispered, looking into his eyes. "Human hearts don't beat in binary with mine."
Caspian looked away, a shadow of pain crossing his face. "I'm just the guy who cleans up the mess."
Before Elara could demand an answer, the water around them suddenly grew freezing cold. The blue light from the Astrolabe flickered and died.
SCREEEEEEECH!
A sound tore through the water—a high-pitched, biological shriek that shattered the glass of the nearby ship windows.
It wasn't a machine. It was a throat. A very large, very angry throat.
[Contact! Multiple Contacts!] L.O.R.E yelled, panic creeping into the AI's voice. [Dr. Vance, 30 hostiles inbound! fast! They are not Sterling's mechs!]
Elara looked at the radar. A swarm of red dots was erupting from the deep trenches below the graveyard.
Caspian shoved Elara back, drawing a jagged bone-sword from his back. His calm demeanor vanished, replaced by the sharpness of a predator.
"Run," Caspian growled, positioning himself between Elara and the dark abyss.
"What are they?" Elara asked, powering up her plasma thrusters.
"The Deep Watchers," Caspian said, his voice grim. "My ancestors betrayed your people, Elara. But these things? They ate them."
Out of the darkness, a pair of glowing yellow eyes opened. Then another. Then a hundred.
They were coming.