The bridge of the submarine was a cathedral of ancient technology, its curved walls lined with crystalline control panels that pulsed with soft amber light. Through the forward viewports, the water beyond had darkened to the color of old ink, flecked with drifting debris that caught the ship's exterior lamps and glittered like falling ash. The crew crowded around the central holographic projector that cast Halia's luminous form and her cartographic display into the air before them.
The image of Tawantin hung in space, rendered in ghostly blue-white light. The island itself was a vertical fortress of terraced peaks and deep gorges, but it was not the land that drew every eye. It was what guarded it.
Three colossal shapes rose from the sea around the island, their scale so immense that the holographic projection had to shrink them to fit the display. Elephants. Stone elephants, their weathered hides carved from salt crystal that glittered like compressed starlight. Their trunks curved downward, touching the water. Their ears, vast as galleon sails, lay folded against their heads. And on each broad forehead, a symbol blazed with its own internal fire.
Jannali Bandler leaned in so close her nose nearly touched the light. Her afro cast a shadow across the projection. "What the hell are those?" Her voice was low, stripped of its usual warmth. "They look like…"
"Zunisha." Atlas Acuta cut her off, his sapphire eyes wide, his rust-red fur bristling along his spine. His nub had gone still. "That's… that's a Zunisha."
Jannali shot him a look. "I was going to say elephants, mate. Not everything's a blast from your childhood." But her voice lacked conviction. She stared at the symbols on the stone brows. "Elephants, bigger than mountains. Right."
Halia's form drifted closer to the display, her silver-blue hair flowing in that eternal, unseen current. "Those are the Rokaku. Salt pillars serving as the fixed anchors." Her voice was patient, melodic, the tone of a scholar who had waited eight centuries to share her knowledge.
Charlie Leonard Wooley made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a swallowed cough. His pith helmet had shifted backward on his head. His round wire-framed glasses caught the holographic light, turning his eyes into twin orbs of reflected data. His fingers pinched his chin, a gesture of such intense academic focus that he appeared to have forgotten he was standing on a submarine about to breach into one of the most dangerous regions of the Grand Line.
"The symbols," he breathed. "On their foreheads. Triangle, square, circle."
Halia inclined her luminous head. "You noticed." She gestured, and the holographic image magnified, each symbol rotating in slow, silent revolution.
Charlie nodded rapidly, his muttering becoming audible. "Ahem. Yes, yes." He jabbed a finger at the circle. "They appear to represent elements."
"A wise deduction," Halia said.
Charlie's chest expanded slightly.
Galit Varuna had not looked away from the hologram. His long neck was extended to its full, observant S-curve, his emerald eyes tracking a secondary data stream that pulsed beneath the main image. His fingers moved across his tactical slate, pulling at threads of information. "There's something under the island." He pointed. "This spherical abyss. It's pulsing. What is that?"
Halia's expression grew more serious, the light particles around her dimming slightly. "That is the Hifumaru. The gravitational heart of the Florian Triangle. It is the source of the region's instability—the reason ships lose their course, the reason the fog never lifts. It is a wound in the world, sustained and contained by the Rokaku above."
Bianca Yvonne Clark, who had drifted away from the group to poke at a secondary console with her sonic wrench, suddenly straightened. "So like, is that why this readout is, like, spinning out of control?" She gestured at a bank of crystalline gauges that were, indeed, oscillating wildly between green and deep crimson.
Halia turned. "That is correct. The Hifumaru's gravitational field interacts with the submarine's singularity core. The vessel is compensating, but the strain is considerable."
Galit's neck coiled tighter. "And it looks like it goes really deep."
"It descends to a depth of 5,095 kilometers," Halia said. "Beneath the island's crust, beneath the sea floor."
Jannali let out a low whistle. "Five kay. Fair dinkum." She shook her head. "That's not a hole, that's a bloody staircase to the underworld."
Atlas turned away from the hologram, his earlier tension settling into something sharper. His sapphire eyes found Marya. "So, boss." His voice was calm, but his claws had extended slightly, tapping an absent rhythm against his bracer. "What do you say? We going in?"
Marya Zaleska stood at the edge of the group, her golden eyes fixed on the image of Tawantin. Her leather jacket was unzipped, the Heart Pirates insignia catching the amber console light. Her thumb tracing slow, unconscious circles against the black leather creases. Her expression gave nothing away.
"Prepare to breach," she said.
The bridge erupted into motion. Galit slid into his station, his neck already craning toward the navigation displays. Bianca spun back to her console, her hands finding worn grips on crystalline levers that had not been touched in centuries. Halia began a quiet, rhythmic countdown, her voice threading through the rising noise.
Vesta Lavana, perched on a storage crate with Mikasi cradled in her lap, tilted her head. "Wait. Why are we here again?" Her rainbow hair rippled with confusion. "Like, the goal. What are we actually doing?"
Aurélie Nakano Takeko did not turn from the viewport. Her silver hair hung in a still curtain, and her reflection in the glass was composed, patient. "We are searching for a Devil Fruit. Or its current wielder." Her voice was quiet, meant for Vesta alone. "The Tideglass indicated a presence here. We will find it, and we will determine if it requires recovery."
Vesta's brow furrowed. "Really? It's here?" She glanced at the holographic island, then back at Aurélie's impassive profile.
Across the bridge, Bianca paused in her adjustments. Her gaze had drifted from her console to the figure hunched at the edge of the room. Ember sat on a low bench, her neon-pink space buns drooping slightly, her mismatched eyes fixed on something that wasn't there. Her hands moved in slow, repetitive strokes across the top of Mr. Cinders' charred plush head.
Bianca's screwdriver lowered. "Like, hey." Her voice was softer than usual. She stepped away from her station and crossed the space between them, her grease-stained overalls rustling. She placed a hand on Ember's shoulder.
Ember blinked. Her gold prosthetic eye caught the light, clicked softly as it refocused. She looked up at Bianca as if surfacing from deep water.
"You cool?" Bianca asked. Her thumb moved once, a small reassuring pressure.
Ember nodded. Her voice, when it came, was a whisper. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm cool." But her gaze drifted back to the bulkhead, and her fingers continued their slow, mechanical petting.
Jannali had watched the exchange. Her brown eyes, usually sharp with observation, softened. She opened her mouth to speak—
The hull groaned.
It was not the complaint of water pressure or the settling of ancient metal. It was a sound that traveled through the ship's frame like a living thing, a deep, resonant vibration that came from the sea itself. The crystalline gauges flickered. Halia's countdown hesitated.
"Crikey," Jannali muttered. "That sounds like a bad omen."
Dr. Zip H. Scatyl, who had been standing motionless in the shadows near the rear hatch, finally spoke. His voice was soft, sibilant, the syllables precisely shaped. "I will be in the medical bay. Should anyone require… collection." His yellowish eyes swept the room once, then he was gone, his white medical coat disappearing through the hatch with silent, segmented grace.
Atlas didn't look away from the forward viewport. "Yeah, dock sounds good."
Sanza Kaplan Figarland had found a padded bench near the navigation station and was attempting to strap himself in with the gravity of a field marshal preparing for battle. His small fingers fumbled with the buckle. "I am looking forward to this," he announced to no one in particular. "An opportunity to explore an ancient, forbidden island. With big sis." He nodded once, decisive. "This will be excellent."
Eliane Anđel, seated beside him and securing her own harness with practiced ease, rolled her eyes so dramatically her entire head tilted. "It's not a field trip. We're on a mission."
"Everything is a field trip if you have the right attitude," Sanza informed her.
Eliane's response was lost as Jelly Squish, who had been bouncing in increasingly erratic patterns around the bridge in sheer gelatinous excitement, ricocheted off a support column and rocketed directly into Charlie's face.
The impact was soft, wet, and complete. Jelly's form spread across Charlie's pith helmet and glasses like a startled blue pancake.
"Bloop!" Jelly announced, delighted.
Charlie's arms windmilled. His voice emerged, muffled and outraged. "AHEM! You—you gelatinous—this is a vintage 42-ply Egyptian cotton blend! UNHAND ME, YOU CAD!"
Jelly, oblivious, peeled himself off Charlie's face with a sound like a reluctant suction cup and bounced onward, already searching for his next target.
Charlie performed what could only be described as an academic curse, a string of archaic syllables that made Halia's eyebrows rise a fraction. He was still sputtering as he attempted to wipe jelly residue from his glasses.
"Breach in thirty seconds," Halia announced, her voice carrying over the chaos. "All personnel secure loose equipment and prepare for surface transition."
Galit's fingers flew across his slate. "Plotting ascent vector now. Debris field is dense—"
A giant thud slammed against the hull.
The entire ship shuddered. Sanza's harness buckle finally clicked shut. Eliane grabbed the edge of her seat. Vesta's guitar let out a startled, discordant strum.
"What the hell was that?" Atlas was already on his feet, his Electro crackling faintly along his fur.
"Floating debris!" Galit snapped, his neck extended to its full length, his eyes scanning sensor data. "There's wreckage everywhere—hull fragments, masts, whole sections of ships—"
"Then watch where you're going, noodle-neck!" Atlas's voice was a growl.
"Shut UP, fur-ball! I can't exactly reroute the ocean!"
"Hifumaru gravitational distortion increasing," Halia said. Her voice remained calm, but the light particles around her were flickering faster. "Twenty seconds to breach."
Marya had not moved from her position. Her golden eyes swept the bridge, taking the measure of each person, each tension, each hidden fear. Her hand remained on the arm of the chair.
But beneath the stillness, something else stirred. A curiosity. A pull toward the island that had hidden its secrets for eight centuries. Toward the mother she had seen in dreams, the grandmother she had never known existed.
"Fifteen seconds."
Galit's fingers never stopped moving. Atlas's Electro dimmed as he forced it down. Jannali's grip on her boomerang tightened. Bianca, back at her console, shot one last glance toward Ember, who had not moved from her bench.
"Ten seconds."
Sanza gripped his armrests. Eliane squared her shoulders. Charlie finally gave up on his glasses and simply gripped his satchel. Jelly, sensing the shift in energy, stopped bouncing and simply wobbled in place, his massive star-pupils wide.
"Five seconds."
The hull groaned again, deeper this time. The water beyond the viewports began to lighten, the endless indigo bleeding upward toward the surface.
"Breach."
The submarine rose.
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