While Kaelen’s blade carved through the smoke-flesh of the Void-Hounds in the marshes, Elara moved deeper into the ocean’s throat. The Trenches of Silence were a place where the water didn’t move; it stood still, heavy and suffocating, like a held breath.
Even the bioluminescence of Athalassia refused to penetrate this far. The only light was the rhythmic, golden pulse of the Trident of the Tides, casting long, distorted shadows against the jagged obsidian walls of the trench.
"My Queen, the pressure... it’s changing," whispered Commander Thorne, the only Sentinel brave enough to follow her this deep. His scales were turning a bruised purple under the weight of the abyss.
"It’s not the pressure, Thorne," Elara said, her voice sounding metallic in the dense water. "It’s the intent."
She
