A pulse shuddered through the stone beneath their boots.
Draven felt it before sound followed—a bass ripple that crawled up the basalt cliffs, rattling loose shale and setting the rusted ribs of dead brine-machines to shiver. The vibration ran straight through him, a note so low it skipped the ears and went for the heart, as if the coast itself carried a hidden drum. A breath later came the noise: a cavernous whump, like an ocean inhaling under the earth. Beach sand slithered backward, grains dragging tiny furrows as though seized by unseen tide. A broken fishing shack farther downshore folded inward, timbers snapping one by one, until it resembled a fist closing around emptiness.
Beside him, Sylvanna startled. Her bow hand rose half an inch, fingers flexing for an arrow that wasn't there.
"Did the ground just… breathe?"
