The sea whispered of silence.
Far beneath the crushing blackness of the Southern Trench, deeper than any creature dared swim and forgotten by all but the oldest legends, there lay the Temple of the Abyss — a drowned sanctuary said to guard one of the Seven Keys to the Hollow Throne.
Few had sought it. Fewer had returned.
But Raizen had no choice.
Armed with the map obtained from Verrigan Vane — a crude etching made in blood and brine — the Ashen Gale arrived at the edge of a sea where compasses spun and even the sun seemed afraid to shine.
Kato adjusted the ballast tanks of their submersible — a vessel borrowed from the Iron Shoals — as Zuri strapped herself in beside Raizen.
"You trust the pirate's directions?" she asked.
"I trust that he wants the key found as badly as we do," Raizen said. "Whatever's down there… we face it together."
The descent took hours.
Light vanished. Pressure mounted. The world narrowed to darkness and the soft mechanical hum of the submersible's heart.
Then — a flicker.
Glowing coral. A doorway made of obsidian teeth. And beyond it, a massive dome etched with moving runes — the Temple of the Abyss pulsing like a living heart beneath the waves.
As they approached, the submersible shuddered. Something ancient pulled.
They docked inside a stone cavern filled with waterless air, defying logic. A voice, soft and emotionless, echoed in their minds — not through ears, but through memory itself:
"Only those willing to give may enter. Sacrifice memory. Surrender truth."
The trial began in silence.
Each crew member who stepped forward was met with a shadow — not of body, but of self. A flickering echo of who they had once been.
Zuri saw her younger self on the killing floor of a noble estate, blade slick with vengeance. Kato faced the face of a mother he no longer remembered, calling him back from the edge of rebellion. Verrigan stood frozen before a burning ship, the screams of his crew playing on repeat.
Raizen stepped forward last.
Before him stood Ryouma — his brother, long lost to the fires of the Flameheart War. Ryouma didn't speak. He only smiled sadly… and then dissolved into ash.
"Give him to us," the temple whispered. "Forget him, and pass."
Raizen fell to his knees. His fists clenched. To lose that memory — the reason he had fought, had bled, had risen — was to lose himself.
But then he heard another voice. Softer. Familiar.
"If you carry me too long, you'll sink. Let me go — and rise."
Raizen opened his eyes. Nodded.
And let go.
The temple shifted. A pedestal emerged from the floor, rising like a spine of light.
Atop it: a key of obsidian and pearl, humming with energy older than empires. The second of the Seven.
But they did not celebrate.
When the crew returned to the submersible, they found Verrigan silent. Distant. His eyes red. He had given something deeper than anyone knew.
Zuri asked no questions. Neither did Raizen.
Some memories are too sacred to speak aloud — and too dangerous to forget.
As they ascended toward the lightless sea above, Raizen clutched the key… and wondered how many more pieces of themselves they would lose before the Hollow Throne was found.
END OF THE CHAPTER6