The Aethelgard descended into the Hadal zone, a region of the Atlantic where light was a forgotten myth and the pressure was enough to flatten a reinforced tank. The groan of the hull was no longer a sound; it was a physical vibration that rattled the marrow in Alessandro’s bones. Every bolt in the lab seemed to be screaming, and the emergency red lights cast long, distorted shadows that danced across the faces of the crew like omens.
Inside the Mirror Tank, the water was becoming a pressurized tomb. Seraphina’s body was perfectly still, but the violet glow emanating from her skin was becoming more jagged, more frantic. The saltwater was doing its job, dampening the signal, but the 19th Ledger was fighting back, trying to push through the saline barrier to find a way back to the surface—b
