The chamber did not recover its breath.
It held it.
Like the sea itself had paused—caught between what had been revealed and what would come next.
Aerin stood unmoving at the center of it all, her pulse still echoing through the water, through the broken coral floor, through every watching eye in the room.
The creature had not attacked again.
It had not retreated either.
It hovered in the fractured space below, its massive form coiled within the opening it had torn into the palace foundation. Its crimson gaze remained fixed on her—not with blind hunger anymore, but something far more unsettling.
Recognition.
And expectation.
The silence stretched too long.
Then—
The Council broke.
"This is treason."
The words sliced through the chamber like a blade.
Aerin turned.
Elder Maris stood rigid at the edge of the fractured floor, her expression no longer uncertain—no longer shaken.
Resolved.
Cold.
