A deep, guttural vibration rolled through the trench as the sea-stone temple groaned like something ancient awakening from aeons of slumber.
From the abyssal shadows beyond the Reliquary gates, titanic forms began to rise—not machines, not quite creatures, but something between: constructs of coral, bone, and biometal, animated by song-etched cores pulsing with forgotten harmony.
Six of them.
Each one shaped differently—some with sweeping, fin-like wings, others bristling with spire-like growths or shimmering shield-plates. They circled the Reliquary slowly, as if confused at first… then aware.
Aqua gasped, "They're harmonized to the vault. Guardians, yes—but... mourners, too. They're protecting something sacred."
Leon drew his blade, the edge humming softly in tune with the reawakened city. "We fight only if we must."
"No," Liliana said, voice calm but urgent. "We don't need to fight. Not yet."
