The highland wind whipped across the sharp rocks, carrying the acidic scent of distant volcanic smoke and the bitter tang of fear. Aurélie kept her hands raised, a picture of composed surrender, though her mind raced through tactical permutations. The manic edge of Ember's giggle sharpened, skittering across the tense silence like broken glass.
Over Regolith's eyes, hard as the Grav-Ore they mined, darted between the unstable girl, the fidgeting scholar, and the stoic swordswoman. His decision was instant. "Secure them," he growled.
A miner rushed forward, clunky but efficient, carrying heavy, dull-grey forearm guards. He snapped them onto Aurélie, Charlie, and Ember. The effect was immediate for two of them.
Aurélie felt it like a slamming door deep within her chest. The latent, coiled energy of her Zoan transformation—the instinct to summon wings, to feel the compound lenses slide over her eyes—vanished, smothered under a profound, leaden numbness. The world felt less vibrant, her senses dulled. Sea-stone.
Morning John stepped forward, his movements deliberate. He reached to Aurélie's hip and smoothly drew Anathema from its sheath. The cursed black blade, usually humming with a silent hunger, felt inert in his grip, just cold metal. He inspected it for a second, his expression unreadable, before handing it off to another miner.
Ember blinked, the chaotic light in her mismatched eyes flickering and dying out like a guttered candle. Her shoulders slumped. "Where…?" she murmured, her head swiveling, taking in the stark landscape, the armed men, the three golden statues. "What?"
Charlie cleared his throat, the academic's reflex to explain overriding the peril. "We are on the surface. The geological event necessitated a rapid egress, and—"
He was the first to stand, brushing volcanic ash from his knees. "Ahem! Sir, I can assure you, as a fellow man of inquiry, that our intentions are purely—"
"Who are you," Over interrupted, his voice like grinding stone, "and why have you assaulted my island?"
Charlie's head cocked in genuine, pedantic confusion. "Assaulted? I can assure you, we have done no such thing. We are researchers!"
Aurélie stood, her movements still graceful despite the sea-stone's weight. Her steel-gray eyes performed a cold, analytical scan of the remaining miners, their positions, their weapons.
Ember stood next, her gaze locked on the petrified Ruru-Gin. She gasped, a small, human sound of horror. "The small ones… what happened to them?"
"Don't you worry about them," Morning snapped, annoyance fraying his control. "My people will see they're returned to the dark. Now answer the question!"
Aurélie's voice was a cool stream in the heated air. "We are only passing through. I assure you, we have taken no action to inflict harm upon the people or the operations here."
"Passing through?" Morning barked a laugh with no humor. "That's ridiculous! Where's your ship moored? It's not at the Iron-Jaw docks. Do you have any idea where you even are right now?"
Aurélie took a slow breath, choosing her words like selecting a blade. "Are you referring to the territory of Sovereign Pier Gerlofs Donia?"
Morning took a menacing step forward, the muzzle of his pistol now centered on Aurélie's chest. "If you know that much, then you know the penalty for unauthorized incursion is—"
The ground bucked violently. Not a tremor, but a deep, localized quake that knocked everyone off balance. As they stumbled, a sharp brrr-ring erupted from Over's pocket. He yanked out his Den Den Mushi. The snail's face morphed into the grit-streaked visage of Dusty Digby Oval.
"We need you down here, now!" Dusty's voice was raw with strain.
Over's brow furrowed. "Why? What's happened?"
"The main pump in shaft seven is seizing! The geothermal tap is cracked! Water's flooding the lower tunnel! If it reaches the active lava channels—"
Over cursed, a vile, creative string of miner's oaths. Morning jerked his head. "Go! I'll deal with this."
Over nodded, all business. "You three, stay with the Captain! The rest of you, with me! Dusty, we're on our way!" He and his squad turned and sprinted back toward the island's smoking interior, leaving a cloud of dust and dread in their wake.
Morning turned his granite attention back to his captives. "You three. This way." He gestured with his pistol down a precarious path toward the distant, rust-streaked coastline. To one of his three remaining men he said, "See to the stone-children. Get them into a dark sack and down to the deep caves before the sun moves."
As they began a forced march, Ember asked, her voice small, "Where are you taking us?"
Morning glanced over his shoulder at the ominous plume of ash and smoke now billowing more aggressively from the central peak. "To my ship."
Aurélie kept her pace even. "And from there?"
"That," Morning said, "is yet to be decided. You'll wait in the brig until we determine what recompense your little 'visit' demands."
Charlie cleared his throat. "Ahem. Exactly what are we being accused of? We've explained our peaceful, scholarly—"
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Morning snarled, stopping to turn and face them. His jaw was a hard line in the fading light.
Aurélie, Charlie, and Ember shared a glance of genuine confusion.
Morning's voice dropped, each word a hammer strike. "Earlier today. An unscheduled, massive explosion. It triggered a chain reaction of cave-ins and seismic instability across the entire Deep-Spine. It disturbed the delicate balance we maintain with this living rock and caused the catastrophe unfolding right now! The reason we were underground was to beg the Ruru-Gin for help to rescue our people who are trapped in those very tunnels! I don't think it's a coincidence that we find you—who didn't moor at the dock, didn't follow a single protocol for entering this island—right in the middle of the fallout! What I don't understand is why?"
Aurélie's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Ember shrunk into herself, guilt and confusion warring on her face. Charlie opened his mouth, a protest on his lips.
"Charlie," Aurélie said softly, a clear, sharp warning in her tone. She gave a single, almost imperceptible shake of her head.
She looked back at Morning, her mask of calm firmly back in place. "It is not our intention to inflict harm. We are simply passing through. If it is possible, we would like to offer whatever aid we can to mitigate the current situation."
Morning was about to deliver a scathing retort when a muffled brrr-ring sounded from within Aurélie's leather jacket.
Everyone froze.
Morning's eyes narrowed. "Halt." He stepped close, his smell of sweat, gunpowder, and stone filling her space. He reached into her pocket, his movements rough, and retrieved the Den Den Mushi. He held it up and answered.
The snail's face morphed into Galit Varuna's focused, intelligent features.
"Aurélie, what is your status? We have a developing—" Galit began.
"We have your associates," Morning cut in, his voice flat and cold.
Galit's projected brow furrowed. "And you would be?"
"Captain Morning John Belied of the Gora-Gora Mining Protectorate. I am taking your associates into custody. If you want them back, my ship is the Ore-Hauler, moored at the western dock. You have until dawn."
Galit's mouth opened to reply, but Morning clicked the receiver shut with finality. He glared at Aurélie as he pocketed her snail. "I see you're not alone." He nudged her forward with the barrel of his gun. "Move."
Charlie cleared his throat as they trudged on. "Those instructions were rather vague. I hardly think—"
"You think I don't know your people are going to try something?" Morning laughed, a harsh, joyless sound. "Of course they will! Now keep walking! Save your breath for the brig."
Aurélie jerked her head, a silent command for Charlie and Ember to obey. As they walked, Charlie, unable to help himself, took in the industrial scars on the landscape—the rail tracks, the massive slag heaps, the skeletal outlines of cranes. "Fascinating topology. If I may ask, what is the primary mineralogical focus of your operations?"
Morning, annoyed but somewhat disarmed by the academic's tone, grunted. "If you must know, our main product is Grav-Ore for Kamaten Island. But we've found other mineral veins. Valuable ones."
Ember, walking with her head down, asked in a sheepish whisper, "What are you going to do with us?"
"For now," Morning said, not looking back, "you sit in the dark. Then I find out from the Sovereign what a reasonable form of recompense is for destabilizing half my mine and getting good people killed."
Aurélie's eyes shifted, calculating. "Would it not be better served for us to assist you? Our… particular skills could be useful in a rescue operation."
Morning spun, his patience finally shattering. "And why would I trust the people who caused the crisis?!" He jabbed the air with his pistol. "Enough talk! The next word from any of you buys you a night in the ore hold instead of the brig! Now walk!"
The path descended toward the blood-red shore, where the grim, iron-clad silhouette of the Ore-Hauler waited, a floating prison at the edge of a burning, unforgiving sea.
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