They didn't sail.
They sank.
Not in drowning—but in descent.
The ocean wolves didn't use boats. They traveled through the currents like threads weaving through liquid tapestry. Liora felt the water press around her gently—not smothering, but guiding.
Kaelen was beside her, his pendant glowing softly for the first time.
Riven trailed behind, flames weaving around his fingertips in delicate spirals, not burning the sea, but pulsing like music beneath the waves.
And ahead of them?
The reef.
Massive. Alive. Ancient.
The Ancestral Crown.
---
It wasn't made of coral.
It was flame-hardened stone, etched with runes that shimmered with blue fire. Pillars curved like whale bones, and across the walls—spiral symbols not unlike the First Flame's crest.
But distorted.
Fractured.
"Not broken," the ocean guide said softly. "Split."
---
Inside the reef
They were led into a chamber sealed by layers of song—yes, song—vibrations that unlocked walls of light.
There, they saw it.
