An armada diver climbed past the broken parapet before Cairnspire found its dry way down.
White armor moved beneath the shelf in pieces: a shoulder behind one rib, a hooked hand under another, pale fire running along a short line fixed to bridge stone. Upward current pressed against the diver, but each opened hook gave the next pull somewhere to begin.
Vessa struck the scorched wall beside Jiang.
Stone answered with a hollow knock.
"Breath spine," she said. "Every submerged bridge has one above the crown. It lets trapped air leave when the road fills."
She drove the borrowed hammer into the burn crack. A slab broke inward and exposed a dry black seam no wider than her head.
"That admits a hand," Aylin said.
"It admitted a worker before the star turned. Now it admits him."
Vessa pointed the hammer at Jiang.
