The descent into the Abyssal Realm was a suffocating plunge, not through space, but through pressure. The portal spat them out onto a vast platform of iridescent coral that hovered precariously above an endless, churning sea of mercury-dark water. The air clung like wet silk—saline, heavy, tasting of secrets and slow decay.
No sun lit this place. Instead, gargantuan bioluminescent jellyfish drifted through the bruised-teal sky like living lanterns, their translucent bells pulsing with cold violet light. Every breath felt thicker than the last.
"I hate water," Lyra growled, fur bristling as she shook her tail in futile disgust. Droplets clung to her like accusations. "Everything here smells like salt and lies."
Seraphina adjusted the high lace collar of her travel cloak, crimson eyes narrowing at the mercurial depths below. "The Lamia consider themselves the purest Sovereign bloodline. The Blight hasn't reached the deep trenches yet… or so they claim." She gestured at the surface. "Look closer."
Floating patches of grey, petrified kelp drifted past—once-vibrant fronds now frozen in stone. The Entropy Blight wasn't invading from above. It was rising from below, drowning the realm in slow, crushing silence.
"Movement," Elowen whispered. Her shadows flared instinctively, coiling around her fingers like living ink.
The sea erupted.
A serpentine tail—easily thirty feet of shimmering emerald scales—slapped the surface with the force of a cannon shot. Water sprayed in a glittering arc as a woman rose from the abyss.
Isolde, Crown Princess of the Abyssal Depths.
Her upper body was sculpted lethality: toned arms, full breasts barely contained by a breastplate of polished black pearl, midriff exposed in arrogant confidence. Her lower half transitioned seamlessly into powerful coils that wrapped around the coral pillars, lifting her until she hovered eye-level with Kaelen. Sea-green hair cascaded like kelp in current, framing shark-cold eyes rimmed with molten gold.
She didn't climb onto the platform. She claimed it.
"So," she hissed, voice vibrating through the humid air like a low-frequency warning. "The 'Universal Anchor' finally crawls out of the dirt. And you brought a stray cat, a fallen nun, and a blood-sucking leech. How… quaint."
Lyra's claws slid out with a metallic snikt. "Careful, snake. I've had a long day, and your tail would make a fine rug."
Isolde ignored her entirely. Her gaze locked on Kaelen with predatory focus. She leaned in, close enough that he could smell sea salt, exotic lilies, and something sharper—arrogance edged with fear.
"You don't look like a savior, Outworlder," she murmured. "You look like a man who's bitten off more than he can chew. My people don't need grounding. We have the weight of the entire ocean to keep us stable."
Kaelen stepped forward into her space, unflinching. "Is that why the kelp is turning to granite?" His voice was flat, corporate—designed to cut. "Is that why the Whispering Abyss has gone silent? I can feel the pressure in your scales, Isolde. It's a rhythmic throb. You're terrified that if you stop moving, you'll petrify and sink forever."
Her pupils narrowed to slits. Her tail tightened around the pillar; coral groaned in protest. For a heartbeat, Kaelen thought she would strike.
Instead, she laughed—sharp, mocking, but brittle at the edges.
"Arrogant primate." She reached out, a single webbed finger tracing the triad of brands on his chest—claw, thorn, bat-wing. Her touch was freezing. "You think sharing a bed with these three means you understand the Abyssal Frequency? Our mana is crushing depth. If I let you touch me, your fragile heart would implode."
Kaelen grabbed her wrist—firm, unyielding. "I don't do trials, Princess. I do fixes. You have a leak. I'm the plug. Every minute you waste playing tsundere royalty is a minute the Blight gets closer to your throat."
Isolde yanked her arm back, a flash of genuine irritation (and—beneath it—a faint, furious blush) crossing her features. "Don't touch me! You haven't earned the right to even look at my scales, let alone—"
She cut herself off, tail whipping once in agitation.
"My father is desperate," she finally said, voice dropping to a low hiss. "He wants to 'test' the Anchor. Survive the Trial of the Trench, and perhaps I'll consider letting you ground my court. Until then, you are guests. And guests in the Abyss have a habit of… drowning."
She dove backward into the dark water, her tail sending up a massive spray that drenched them all in cold brine.
Seraphina wiped a droplet from her lip, smirking. "She's a handful. And a textbook tsundere."
"She's a liability," Kaelen corrected, staring at the ripples where she had vanished. "The more she resists the fix, the more explosive the grounding will be. Elowen—shadow-scout the sub-levels. Lyra—guard the gear. Seraphina—keep the court nobles from panicking. I'm going to find out exactly how much pressure this princess can actually take."
He looked down into the black depths.
The three bonds thrummed in his soul—a triad of power, ready.
The hunt had gone underwater.