The coral platform trembled under the weight of unspoken tension as Kaelen stared down into the black mirror of the sea. The bioluminescent jellyfish overhead drifted like silent sentinels, their violet glow barely penetrating the first few meters of water. Beyond that lay absolute dark.
Elowen's shadows returned first—thin tendrils of darkness slithering back up her arms like obedient pets. "Sub-levels are riddled with petrified coral spires," she reported softly. "The Blight has formed a lattice twenty meters down. It's… breathing. Slow. Like a heart made of stone."
Seraphina licked a stray droplet of brine from her lower lip, fangs glinting. "Then the princess is running out of time. She can't hide the overload forever. Pride will kill her before the Blight does."
Lyra paced, tail whipping arcs of water. "I'm not letting you dive alone. The bond will stretch, but I can still feel you. If something grabs you—"
"No," Kaelen cut in, voice calm but final. "You three stay topside. The pressure down there would crush your lungs in seconds. I inherited Seraphina's regeneration and Elowen's shadow manipulation—enough to survive the depths for a while. If I need backup, pull me through the tether. Hard."
He stripped down to bare skin, leaving only the three glowing brands on his chest as armor. The cold air raised gooseflesh; the sea below promised colder.
Lyra grabbed his arm, claws pricking. "If that snake tries to drown you, I'm ripping her tail off and using it as a leash."
Kaelen met her golden eyes. "Then keep the leash ready."
He stepped off the edge.
The water hit like a slap of iron. The cold shocked his lungs, but Seraphina's affinity kicked in immediately—heart rate slowing, blood thickening, skin toughening against the pressure. He sank fast, shadows from Elowen's gift wrapping his limbs like flexible armor, letting him cut through the water instead of fighting it.
Ten meters. Twenty. The light from above faded to a sickly green twilight. Thirty meters—the pressure was a living thing now, squeezing his ribs, trying to fold him inward. He felt Isolde's presence like a beacon: a frantic, rhythmic throb echoing through the depths, growing erratic.
At forty meters he saw the lattice Elowen described: petrified coral spires twisted into grotesque arches, grey vines pulsing faintly like veins. And in the center of the web, thrashing against her own chains of stone—
Isolde.
Her tail was half-entombed, emerald scales cracking as the Blight spread upward. Her upper body arched in agony, sea-green hair floating like a halo of drowned kelp. Her shark-gold eyes were wide, pupils blown with panic she would never admit. She was fighting—clawing at the stone, fangs bared—but the overload was winning. Her mana was collapsing inward, crushing her from the inside.
She saw him.
For one heartbeat, pure shock replaced her arrogance. Then fury.
You, her mental voice lashed through the water, sharp as a blade. I told you—
Kaelen didn't answer. He kicked harder, shadows propelling him like dark fins.
The Blight reacted.
From the petrified lattice, grey tendrils exploded outward—Blight-beasts, half-serpent, half-stone, eyes glowing dull white. They moved like broken marionettes, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of obsidian teeth.
Kaelen twisted mid-descent, shadows coiling into blades. He sliced through the first beast's neck; stone shards drifted upward like ash. The second lunged; he met it with a punch empowered by Lyra's feral strength—fist through chest, grey ichor blooming in slow motion.
More came.
He fought in three dimensions, body adapting faster than thought. Seraphina's regeneration stitched torn muscle; Elowen's shadows deflected crushing grips; Lyra's wind-affinity—diluted through the water—still gave him bursts of speed that let him dance between stone jaws.
Isolde's voice cut through again, weaker. Get… out… you'll die here…
Kaelen reached her. The stone had climbed to her waist. Her tail thrashed once more—desperate, final.
He grabbed her face with both hands, forcing her to meet his gaze through the murk.
"I'm not here to watch you drown, Princess," he said, voice carrying through the water via the nascent bond. "I'm here to plug the leak."
Her eyes widened. "You… can't—"
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It was survival.
Salt and cold exploded on his tongue. Her lips were freezing, trembling. For a heartbeat she froze—pride warring with terror—then something broke.
She kissed back.
Hard.
Aetheric Resonance: Phase 4 – Abyssal Grounding
The connection detonated.
Her mana hit like the entire ocean collapsing inward. Crushing pressure slammed into Kaelen's soul—deep, cold, endless. It tried to fold him, erase him, make him nothing but a speck in the dark. Memories of Earth flickered: boardrooms, betrayal, isolation—all threatening to dissolve under the weight.
He refused.
He poured the triad back at her: Lyra's feral heat to thaw the cold, Elowen's holy light to pierce the dark, Seraphina's crimson life-force to remind her that blood still moved.
Isolde screamed into his mouth—soundless in water, deafening in the bond. Her tail thrashed, cracking the stone lattice apart. The Blight-beasts swarmed; Kaelen didn't let go. He wrapped shadows around them both, turning their bodies into a single point of resistance.
The pressure built.
Higher.
Higher.
Then release.
A shockwave of violet-green light exploded outward, vaporizing the nearest beasts, shattering the petrified coral into glittering dust. The Blight retreated, hissing as it sank back into the depths.
Isolde's tail uncoiled, free.
She sagged against him, arms wrapping around his neck, trembling. Her shark-gold eyes—now flecked with warm amber—met his. No words. Just a raw, vulnerable stare that said everything her pride had refused to admit.
Kaelen broke the kiss slowly. "You're grounded," he rasped. "For now."
A new brand seared into existence on his left pectoral: a coiling serpent encircling a black pearl anchor. Matching mark appeared on Isolde's collarbone—visible above her pearl breastplate.
She stared at it, then at him.
"You… idiot," she whispered, voice hoarse. "You could have died."
"I don't die easy," he said. "And neither do you."
Above, three bonds pulsed urgently—Lyra's worry, Elowen's calm assessment, Seraphina's amused hunger. They had felt everything through the link.
Isolde's tail curled loosely around his waist—possessive, but tentative. "My father will want to meet you," she said, looking away, cheeks flushing beneath the scales. "The court… they'll demand a proper grounding ceremony. In the throne trench."
Kaelen felt the weight of four queens in his soul now. The pressure was immense—but he was still standing.
"Fine," he said. "But tell your father one thing."
She looked back at him, eyes narrowing.
"I don't do ceremonies," he told her. "I do fixes. And you're fixed. Whether you like it or not."
Isolde's tail tightened once—almost a hug—before loosening.
She didn't argue.
Together, they rose toward the light, the dark water parting before them.
Four down.
Three to go.
The Blight waited below.
But so did the storm of four queens who now shared one Anchor—and the jealousy was only beginning to boil.