The glow of teal light slowly faded as the currents stilled, leaving only the pulse of strange runes carved into coral and basalt.
Caedrion's mind had steadied after the initial shock, though every breath that filled his chest reminded him that his life balanced entirely on her.
Thalassaria.
She drifted near him, half goddess, half serpent, eyes glowing with abyssal fire.
In her hands she held the artifact, the same small, rune-etched relic he had seen perched innocuously on the marble ledge of his bath, the thing that had torn him from Dawnhaven and dragged him into this nightmare beneath the sea.
He watched carefully as she whispered a string of words in a tongue older than human memory.
The artifact flared once, then dimmed, before she slid it into a casket wrought of pearl and obsidian.
The casket sealed itself with a hiss, sinking into the coral walls of her throne room until it was gone.
