I can't tear my eyes from the porthole, where the black water of the Abyss seems to stare back at me. The whispers in my head are louder, almost tangible, like cold fingers brushing my mind. They speak of buried secrets, truths I'll only understand by descending further, to 1500 meters, where the bone crown awaits. But every step into the Abyss costs lives, and I wonder how many of us will survive the next dive. Taro is gone, his gentle smile extinguished forever. Soren, with his fear and humanity, was crushed by the pressure. Their absence is a physical pain, a void in my chest that grows with every moment. Taro was more than a teammate; he was an anchor, a brother I never had. Soren, despite his fragility, had a light in him, a tormented intelligence that made me want to protect him. Their deaths, so brutal, so tragic, haunt me, and I know anyone who knew their courage and humanity would weep with me.
Vora sits apart, his gaze fixed on the void crystal's chest. His betrayal looms like a shadow over us. He abandoned Soren, left him to the swarm to save his own life. I want to scream my anger, demand how he can still face himself after that. But there's something in his silence, a pain so deep it disarms me. He lost Kaelin, his partner, his companion in this hell. I remember how he spoke of her, the tear I saw roll down his cheek. The love he had for Kaelin was real, and I realize now his betrayal wasn't cowardice but a survival instinct against an Abyss that breaks everything. Yet I can't forgive him. Not yet. Not after Soren.
Lira emerges from the cockpit, her holographic tablet powered off. She stops, watching Vora and me, the only ones left in the cabin. "You two, listen to me," she says, her voice low but firm. "What happened down there… that's the Abyss. It tests us, breaks us. But if we tear each other apart, we won't survive the next dive." I want to retort, to say that Vora betrayed Soren, that her protecting him is a betrayal in itself. But her gray eyes, weary and worn, silence me. Lira carries the Abyss in her, like an invisible scar. She's seen too many deaths, too many betrayals, to judge Vora. But her loyalty to him, to the mission, makes me sick. Is she really our leader, or a pawn of the floating cities, ready to sacrifice anyone for an artifact?
I stand, unable to bear the silence. "What about Taro? What about Soren?" I ask, my voice trembling. "They deserved better." Lira meets my gaze, and for the first time, I see a crack in her armor. "They did deserve better," she admits, her voice almost a whisper. "But the Abyss doesn't give gifts. We keep going, or we all die." Her words echo those from after the first dive, but they sound different now—heavier, more desperate. I wonder if she loved Taro, in her own way. Not a romantic love, but a bond forged in blood and survival. His death touched her, even if she won't show it.
I return to my bunk, but the Abyss's whispers follow me. They're clearer now, almost voices, promising answers if I dive deeper. I close my eyes, but I see Taro's gentle smile, Soren's terrified eyes. The Abyss took those I loved, and I fear it will take everything else. Vora stands, approaching me. "I'm sorry, Kaël," he murmurs, his voice broken. "For Soren. For everything." I want to yell that it's too late, that his apologies won't bring Soren back. But I see the pain in his eyes, the weight of Kaelin, Soren, and all those he's lost. I nod, unable to speak. The betrayal remains, but the love he had for Kaelin, and maybe for all of us, forces me to see the man behind the coward.
Lira sits by the porthole, her gaze lost in the black water. "Rest," she says without turning. "The bone crown awaits. And the Abyss doesn't forgive." I lie down, but sleep doesn't come. The whispers of the Abyss are a song now, a promise of truth, power, destruction. I don't know how long I can resist them, but one thing is certain: the Abyss has marked me, and it won't let me go.