The coral-wrapped launch chamber hummed with this weird, low frequency that Micah had never heard before. Nothing like the steady drone of Ashari machinery he'd grown up with. The air here smelled like salt and wet stone—so different from the sharp mountain air or that earthy forest scent he was used to.
Sure, they'd gotten permission to enter Myrvane territory after delivering the Ashari message and that precious Thornkin sap, but being down here in the ocean? It felt completely alien. Like the water was pressing in from every direction, and honestly, it made Micah's stomach clench with worry.
He gripped the vial of glowing green sap tucked safely in his gear. That little bottle represented everything—their shaky alliance, the promise that even though they were all going different ways, they were still connected.
Right now it felt impossibly heavy, like it was carrying the weight of three entire civilizations trying to hold back the darkness.
Lio was right beside him, fiddling with his pressure gear, and even he looked nervous—which was saying something. And Kaelin? The guy who never showed fear about anything was standing there with his shoulders all tense, one hand hovering near his pack where he kept that mini-railgun.
This place felt just as dangerous and foreign as those industrial wastelands where the Omniraith lived.
Part of the glowing coral wall just... shimmered and opened up like gates into nothing. Out stepped this figure in dark, dripping armor—Captain Marella Seaborn. She moved like everything was calculated, measured.
That's how the Myrvane were. Her visor was made of these bioluminescent panels that seemed to narrow as she looked each of them over: Micah with his battle scars, Lio nervously messing with some handheld device, and Kaelin just radiating that quiet, dangerous energy.
"Captain," Micah said, stepping up. He tried to sound direct like the Ashari liked, but also sincere—the way the Thornkin appreciated honesty. "We're here because the forest is dying." He held up that vial of sap.
"The Thornkin say there's this spreading corruption, and they think it's connected to new Omniraith interference. Their magic, their life force—it's all getting weaker." He offered her the vial. "Sera Lin asked me to bring this. It's like... a symbol of what they're going through and their hope."
Marella took the vial, and her armored fingers were surprisingly gentle. She held it up, watching the green liquid pulse against the blue glow of the chamber.
Then she just... stood there. Silent. The Myrvane were like that—they took their time, and silence meant something to them. Micah waited, knowing better than to rush her.
Finally, she spoke, her voice coming through her suit with this formal, resonant tone. "The currents are troubled. Our scouts are reporting disturbances in the deep trenches." She looked from the vial back to Micah. "Your message from Elora said the Verdant Heart was in danger, but you were delayed. Why?"
That question hit like a punch. Micah had sent word back to Command saying the analysis wasn't finished—basically buying them time—but Marella was cutting straight to the heart of their disobedience.
He couldn't tell her about the Hollow or that signal. Not yet. Not even his own people knew, let alone an ally, no matter how important they were. He had to stick to truths she could check without giving away the bigger secret.
"Captain, the Omniraith surveillance has gotten exponentially tighter. Thornkin communication channels went dark. Getting to the forest to deliver that message capsule was incredibly high-risk—we had to navigate dangerous terrain and dodge Omniraith patrols."
He gestured vaguely at the scar hidden under his clothes, a reminder of past battles and constant danger. "We ran into complications that needed immediate attention." He didn't mention Lio's back channel, that prototype from Sector Gamma-Prime, or what they'd found under the Ironroot Grove.
Marella tilted her head—a gesture that felt both analytical and skeptical. "Complications," she repeated, her tone completely flat. "You say your forest is dying. Our outposts were... harvested." Her gaze swept over the three of them again. "If you'd warned us sooner and shared your intelligence without delay, maybe Sentinel Pod 3 would still be standing."
That stung. Micah felt his temper flare. The Myrvane talked about efficiency just like the Ashari did, but her accusation felt unfair. She was ignoring all the risks they'd taken. "Captain," he said, keeping his voice steady but firm. "We faced serious threats to get that information. The intelligence about the forest decay was critical for all of us.
Sharing it through analog methods was challenging—it required a direct courier mission." He looked straight at her visor. "We delivered that message because this alliance, fragile as it is, is essential for fighting the Omniraith."
Lio stepped forward a bit, his usual excitement about technical stuff overshadowed by wanting to defend what they'd done. "We... we optimized for success within our given parameters," he mumbled, using an Ashari saying.
Then he switched to a more direct tone. "We worked as fast as we could to make contact and verify the intelligence."
Marella stayed quiet for a moment, looking at Lio, then shifting to Kaelin. In a rare show of trust, Kaelin knelt down and unclipped two camo-net grenades from his belt. He placed them carefully on the chamber floor—a silent gesture showing they'd come unarmed, in good faith.
Marella's visor seemed to soften just a little. She nodded slowly. "Drift wisely," she said, using a Myrvane saying. "The past can't be navigated; only the currents ahead matter." She turned and gestured deeper into the chamber. "Get your gear ready. We're going down immediately. The Shifting Trench is rough."
They prepared quickly and efficiently—typical for both Ashari and Myrvane. Micah secured his adaptive suit and checked his shape-changing device.
Lio double-checked his armor's pressure adapters and secured his reactor chargers, then recalibrated his scanner with a furrowed brow. Kaelin re-secured his gear with economical, precise movements. Sera's vial went into Micah's internal pouch, its faint warmth oddly comforting.
Marella led them to a line of sleek, glowing coral gliders. They looked like manta rays—this seamless blend of organic growth and Myrvane tech. As they climbed in, the pressurized cabins sealed around them with a soft hiss. Marella strapped herself into the lead glider, moving fluidly despite her bulky armor.
"You're not in the mountains anymore," she said through the internal comms, her voice clear but with this subtle challenge underneath. "Down here, slow thinking kills you." It was a pointed jab—a reminder of what she saw as the Ashari's delay.
Lio, probably eager to prove himself to the methodical Myrvane captain, shot back with some defensive humor. "I've reprogrammed railgun firmware mid-battle, Captain, but sure, let's talk reef politics." He glanced at Micah, a flicker of his usual curious idealism showing through the tension.
Micah allowed himself a brief internal smile. Lio's quick thinking was invaluable, just like Kaelin's tactical sense and Sera's connection to nature. They'd become a real team, their bond tested and strengthened. He hoped their combined strengths would be enough for whatever was waiting beneath the waves.
The coral gliders launched, gliding smoothly out of the chamber into the deepening blue. As they descended into the Shifting Trench, darkness swallowed them—absolute and heavy.
The pressure outside got intense, like a physical weight crushing against their ribs despite the gliders' protective shields. Only the pale, shifting light of bioluminescent sea plants and the gliders' soft headlamps lit the way.
Everything changed. Gone were the silence of mountain peaks and the vibrant life of the forest, replaced by the deep ocean's soundscape. Strange ambient noises echoed through the trench canyons, picked up by the gliders' external mics.
There was the soft whisper of water flowing through underwater tunnels, the bubbling of air pockets, the low clicking and whirring of Myrvane technology.
But beneath all that, something else resonated—this deep, ancient frequency that felt both old and weirdly mechanical, like distant whale calls mixed with the hum of unseen machinery.
Micah felt claustrophobic, cut off from the sky and stone that usually defined his world. His scout instincts were honed for mountain paths and forest edges, for reading wind and terrain. But the ocean? Completely unreadable—all shifting currents and hidden depths. He tried to rely on his senses, but they felt dulled, overwhelmed by how utterly foreign this all was.
They glided deeper into the abyss, pressure building, light fading until only the bioluminescent plants provided any glow. The gliders' displays flickered with sonar readings and environmental data.
Marella's voice came through the comms, calm and steady despite the eerie surroundings. "We're approaching Sentinel Pod 3's last known location."
The gliders slowed, headlamps cutting through the darkness. Then they saw it.
The ruined Myrvane scout base—Vael'Tor Sentinel Pod 3—drifted aimlessly in the current. Half-crushed, its bio-metal structure warped and broken.
The coral that had once grown protectively across its hull was torn and blackened. Wires snaked out of ruptured sections, and the faint glow of internal systems flickered erratically before dying out.
Marella's voice was completely flat. "This wasn't a simple attack."
As they got closer, the gliders' lights revealed the horror inside the wreckage. Bodies drifted gently in the currents, bobbing with the water's slow sway. Myrvane, still in their armor, eyes open and unseeing behind their visors.
But something was terribly wrong. Their hydro-spinal implants—crucial Myrvane tech that might be integral to their physiology—were twisted or completely missing from their backs.
Lio's voice, usually full of technical curiosity, sounded strained. "Scanning... I'm detecting residual Omniraith hydroform signal interference.
Plus significant biomechanical markers. This wasn't just damage. It was... dissection." His scanner showed intricate data patterns indicating Omniraith creatures specifically adapted for underwater pursuit and infiltration.
Kaelin's voice, normally rough and direct, was now low and grim. "Harvesting." He understood the Omniraith's methods—they didn't just conquer, they consumed. Organic life was just a resource to be repurposed. This wasn't a battlefield where soldiers died; it was a processing plant.
Marella stayed silent for a long moment, the implication hanging heavy in the pressurized cabin. Her people had been reduced to mere resources.
The pragmatic Ashari understood cold survival logic, but this clinical horror—this complete disregard for identity—still chilled Micah to the bone. It was his greatest fear: becoming like them.
"The Thornkin spoke of poisoning," Marella finally said, her methodical tone now laced with cold anger. "The Core Nexus mobilization was affecting its surroundings, including the forest decay."
She turned her glider's lights directly on Micah. "If you'd warned us sooner about the danger spreading from the forest and the extent of the interference, maybe our sentinel outposts would have been better prepared." It was a direct accusation, bringing all the tension between their factions to the forefront.
Micah felt the weight of her words, the unspoken blame for losing her people. He understood the dangers the Myrvane faced from the depths—threats that mirrored what the Ashari dealt with in the mountains and the Thornkin in their forest.
He also knew how complex the situation they'd navigated really was. He needed to defend his people, their actions, and the vital hidden knowledge they now carried.
"Captain, we brought you the Thornkin's warning," Micah replied steadily. "We also risked our lives to gather intelligence that's shifted the entire alliance's strategy. The Omniraith control the networks—gathering and transmitting information safely is brutal work."
He held back mentioning the Hollow, the signal, or the Core Nexus's plan to rewrite existence. He couldn't—not yet. But he could acknowledge their shared enemy and the immediate danger. "They're adapting. Not just destroying, but corrupting and merging. This... harvesting... it's a new and terrifying tactic.
We came here to stand with you, Captain, and to learn what you know about this threat beneath the waves."
Marella studied him through her visor for a long moment. She took in the scout's hardened demeanor, that faint scar on his cheek, the way his eyes met hers without flinching.
She noticed Lio nervously adjusting his equipment but standing firm beside his friend. She saw Kaelin, silent and watchful, his combat readiness almost tangible. These weren't diplomats; they were survivors.
"Very well," she finally said. The accusation still lingered, but the immediate tension eased slightly. "We'll go deeper. There are... anomalies... further into the trench—signals that don't fit our usual classifications."
The gliders moved forward, leaving Sentinel Pod 3's graveyard behind. The water got darker, the pressure even more intense. Those strange mechanical-organic sounds seemed to get louder, echoing around them.
Suddenly, the gliders' headlamps lit up a narrow abyss opening ahead. The water here shimmered with unnatural light—a cold, metallic glow that seemed to come from the depths themselves. It was nothing like the soft bioluminescence of the sea plants or the precise beams of Myrvane technology.
And then a voice whispered through their internal communications.
It was faint and fragmented, like the static they'd heard in the Thornkin Forest. But this wasn't distorted or anguished. Instead, it was clear, resonant, and somehow familiar—half-synthetic, half-human.
It whispered a single name, echoing in the darkness.
"Micah..."
Micah froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. It felt like a summons—the same signal he and Lio had sensed beneath the Thornkin forest, the one that had marked him as "steelborn." It had followed him here.
The journey below had just begun, plunging them into the hidden secrets of the Myrvane depths and toward a terrifying and unexpected destiny hinted at by this mysterious entity. The war had definitely moved beyond the surface—now it lived beneath the waves, echoing in whispers that called his name.