The silence in the submarine is heavier than the pressure of the Abyss at 800 meters. I'm slumped on my bunk, staring at the steel ceiling, but all I see is Mira's body collapsing, her suit torn by the pressure, her scream swallowed by the water. Kaelin vanished in a crunch, crushed by the giant eel before the pressure could finish her. Four of us are dead after two dives. Joran, Dax, Kaelin, Mira… their faces dance in my mind, shadows claimed by the Abyss. The runic sphere, secured in a chest at the back of the submarine, seems to mock us. Its silvery glow pulses through the container's glass, its engravings beating like a living heart. It might be worth the survival of the floating cities, but right now, it's not worth the blood we've spilled.
Taro lies on an improvised stretcher, his leg bandaged with an emergency medkit. The eel's bite left a deep wound, but his suit held—a miracle given the ferocity of the fight. He breathes shallowly, eyes half-closed, yet he still clutches the sheath of his vibrating blade, as if expecting the Abyss to strike again, even here. Soren, sitting at the far end of the room, stares at the floor, his fingers frantically tapping his wrist screen. He hasn't spoken since we surfaced, but I see the fear in his eyes—a fear that goes beyond the eel or the pressure. He hears something, just like I do. The whispers in my head, those invitations to dive deeper, won't leave me. They're louder now, more insistent, like a voiceless call promising answers, secrets, a truth hidden in the depths.
Vora, the last surviving veteran, kneels by the runic sphere's chest, his glowing tattoo pulsing on his neck. He mutters something—a prayer or a curse, I can't tell. His eyes are hard, but I see a crack in his armor, a pain he won't show. Kaelin was his partner for years, one of the few to survive so long in the Abyss. Her death has broken him, even if he won't admit it. Lira, our leader, is in the cockpit, talking to the floating city officers through an encrypted transmission. I can't hear her words, but her tone is sharp, cutting. She's reporting on the mission, likely glossing over the bloody details. The officers don't want to hear about the dead. They want artifacts, gems, relics. We divers are just tools.
I stand, my legs shaky, and approach the porthole. The black water of the Abyss stretches endlessly, even at the surface. The floating cities, perched on their rusted platforms, are visible in the distance, their domes glinting under a toxic sky. I think back to my life before, on the surface, where every day was a fight for a synthetic ration or a corner to sleep without being attacked. The Abyss might be hell, but the surface isn't any better. Yet here, in this submarine, I feel more trapped than ever. The Abyss won't let me go. It calls to me, and I don't know how long I can resist its pull.
Soren approaches, his face pale, eyes red from exhaustion. "Kaël, you hear it, don't you?" he whispers, his voice trembling. I frown, hesitant to answer. "The Abyss. It speaks. It wants us to go deeper." I want to tell him he's crazy, that it's just fear, fatigue, the shock of watching our teammates die. But I can't lie. The whispers are there, in my head, like a rising tide. They don't form words, not yet, but they're real—a pressure in my mind, a promise of something greater, more terrifying. "Focus, Soren," I say, my voice harder than I meant. "We have to stay alive." He nods, but his eyes stay fixed on the black water outside, as if he sees something I can't.
Lira returns to the cabin, her face closed off. "Rest," she orders. "We dive again tomorrow. Depth: 1200 meters. Target: void crystal." The word "tomorrow" hits me like a punch. I want to protest, to say we're not ready, that Taro is wounded, that Soren is on the brink, that we're down to four. But her gaze silences me. She knows how I feel. She's lived it, dive after dive. "The Abyss doesn't wait," she adds, softer. "If we stop, the cities fall." I nod, but her words ring hollow. The floating cities survive because of us, but at what cost?
I return to my bunk, but sleep doesn't come. Instead, I replay the fight in the cave. The eel was different from the leviathan of the first dive. It wasn't just strong—it was intelligent, calculating. The way it watched us, targeted our weaknesses, chills my blood. And the runic sphere… it's not just an artifact. When I touched it, I felt something—a warmth, a pulse, as if it were alive. I wonder what Lira knows, what she's not telling us. She's seen too many dives, too many deaths, to be so stoic without hiding something.
Taro groans on his stretcher, pulling my attention. I check his bandage. The bleeding has stopped, but the wound is deep, and he's lost a lot of strength. "I'll be fine, kid," he murmurs, a weak smile on his face. But his eyes tell a different story. He knows the Abyss doesn't forgive the wounded. I want to tell him we won't leave him, that we'll bring him back to the surface, but the words stick in my throat. Lira left Mira without hesitation, and I fear she'll do the same with Taro if his injury slows us down.
Vora approaches the runic sphere's chest, his fingers brushing the glass. "Kaelin would've loved to see this," he murmurs, almost to himself. I don't know what to say. Kaelin's loss weighs on us all, but for Vora, it's personal. They were partners, bound by years of dives. I wonder how many times he's watched comrades die, how many times he's had to keep going despite it. "We'll make it, Vora," I say, but my voice lacks conviction. He doesn't respond, his gaze fixed on the sphere.
Lira returns, holding a holographic tablet. "The officers want us to move faster," she says, her tone sharp. "The void crystal is top priority. If we retrieve it, we could stabilize the cities' reactors for decades." She pauses, looking at each of us. "But at 1200 meters, things change. The monsters aren't just beasts anymore. They think. They hunt. And the pressure… it'll break your suits if you're not careful." Soren pales further, if that's possible. Taro closes his eyes, as if accepting his fate. Vora nods, stoic. My heart races. The whispers in my head grow louder, as if the Abyss knows what awaits us.
I return to the porthole, staring at the black water. The whispers are clearer now—not words, but a sensation, a promise. They tell me the Abyss holds secrets, truths I'll only understand by diving deeper. I shake my head, trying to ignore them. But they persist, like a rising tide. Lira joins me, her gaze piercing. "You hear them, don't you?" she asks, her voice low. I startle, surprised she knows. "Don't listen to them, Kaël. Not yet." She walks away without another word, leaving me alone with the whispers and the darkness.