The air in the hollow clung to my lungs like a damp rag, every breath laced with rot and salt. The metal shard in my hand was cold, its edges biting into my palm, drawing blood that mingled with the rust staining its surface. Aya slumped against the wall, staring at the pile of bones, her breaths shallow, as if they might stop at any moment. The crackling roar of the trench guardian diving back into the water still echoed in my ears, and though the Whisperer’s hiss had faded, it lingered in my mind like a shadow. That deeper hum—the strange tremor rising from the sea floor—rattled the stone around us, as if something vast had stirred awake.
“Lin Ze,” Aya whispered, her voice hoarse and dry, “that metal… it’s like their tools.” She pointed at the symbols etched into the shard, faint and worn but unmistakable, mirroring the markings on the devices the Whisperer used to control its slaves. I turned it over, flakes of rust peeling away to reveal deeper grooves—a fragment of a map or diagram, maybe. I frowned, my thoughts a tangled mess. “If it’s theirs, why was that beast guarding it?”
She didn’t answer, just hugged her knees tighter, unease flickering in her eyes. Beyond the hollow, the sea churned, green and purple lights pulsing faintly in the distance—the dying embers of the city we’d fled. I shoved the shard into my tattered pocket, gripped my knife, and stood. “We can’t wait here to die.” Aya looked up, lips parting as if to argue, but she nodded instead, pushing herself up against the wall.
We squeezed back into the crevice, the narrow passage scraping our shoulders raw, the stench of bones and slimy algae choking the air. Outside, the water roared louder, a living thing gasping for breath. I peered out—the ledge still held, but the surface rippled, something moving below. I signaled Aya to stay quiet, stepping forward, when my knife clinked against something hard. I looked down—a metal rod, half-buried in a crack, its surface pitted with rust like the shard.
“Another one?” Aya murmured, crouching to touch it. I yanked her back. “Don’t—” Before I finished, the water erupted, a tendril whipping onto the ledge, purple ooze dripping onto the stone. A shelled creature, its single eye glowing, shell cracked from fresh wounds, hauled itself up. It hadn’t seen us yet, its tendrils curling toward the rod as if searching. I held my breath, pulling Aya deeper into the crevice.
The shell beast hummed, its sound stuttering, broken, like a faltering signal. Another clambered from the water, limping, a chunk of its shell missing. They circled the ledge, tendrils brushing the rod, then froze, heads snapping toward the hollow. My stomach dropped—they’d smelled us. Aya’s grip tightened on my arm, her nails digging in. “They know we’re here…” Her voice shook, fragile as glass.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I clutched my knife, mind racing. The shell beasts were wounded, but their tendrils could still crush us. That rod—they wanted it, tied to the shard somehow. As I thought, the water stirred again, a guttural roar shaking the crevice. The scaled guardian was back, claws slicing through the waves, charging the shell beasts. It smashed one’s shell with a single swipe, purple blood spraying, while the other screeched and retreated into the water. The guardian didn’t pursue—it turned to the ledge, sniffing the rod, a low growl rumbling from its throat.
“It’s here again,” Aya whispered, fear and confusion mixing in her eyes. I watched the beast—it ignored us, fixated on the rod. With a flick of its claw, it sent the metal spinning into the water, then twisted, staring at the hollow’s entrance, its black eyes like wells. My palms sweated, knife raised to my chest, but it didn’t move. It roared once—a warning—then dove back into the sea.
The water stilled for a heartbeat, then the Whisperer’s hiss slithered through, close enough to feel on my skin: “Found… you…” I spun around—green light flared in the crevice depths, two shell beasts dragging their cracked shells forward, the Whisperer behind them, tendrils fewer now, black ooze dripping thicker. It saw me, sockets narrowing. “Yours… return…” Aya screamed—I shoved her toward the hollow, turning to face it, slashing at a tendril. Purple slime splattered my face, searing my eyes shut, but a shell beast lunged, slamming me to the ground.
I rolled to the ledge’s edge, my knife slipping into the water. Aya shouted, running back, grabbing a bone and smashing it against the shell beast, but a tendril whipped out, hurling her against the wall. She crumpled with a groan, and I scrambled to shield her as the Whisperer closed in, hissing, “No… escape…” A tendril coiled around my leg, cold as ice. I clawed at my pocket—the shard slipped out, clattering onto the ledge with a sharp ring.
The Whisperer froze, tendrils loosening, the shell beasts halting. The guardian’s roar erupted again, water exploding as it charged, knocking a shell beast aside and slamming into the Whisperer. Black and purple fluids sprayed, the Whisperer shrieking as it retreated, more shell beasts surging from the water, drawn by the shard’s sound. I snatched it, dragging Aya back to the hollow, the hum growing louder, like the sea itself was splitting.
“We’ve got to go,” I panted, hands trembling around the shard. Aya clutched her side, nodding, her eyes gleaming with the light of survival. The hollow shuddered, the Whisperer’s cries fading, but the guardian’s roar drew closer. I glanced back—the water roiled, and a larger black eye broke the surface, not the guardian’s—deeper, colder, piercing through us like it saw everything.
