Chapter 47 – The Vault Beneath the Sea

The vessel cut through the black Atlantic like a blade, its hull reinforced with composite alloy and stealth plating. On the surface, it resembled an old research submersible, long since decommissioned. Beneath the outer shell, however, it was something else entirely—Brotherhood-forged, retrofitted with scavenged Isu tech, and helmed by a crew that didn't flinch at impossible depths.

Kaelen stood near the forward observation window, arms folded, eyes locked on the darkening abyss beyond. The sea pressed against the glass like a living thing. He felt it in his chest—the pressure of something vast, forgotten, and waiting.

"Depth: six thousand meters," came Lysenne's voice from the control console. "Approaching vault perimeter. Cloak holding. No active scans detected."

Thessara moved to stand beside Kaelen. Her eyes, golden when the Isu flare awakened, now remained steady and dim. Still, a tension clung to her shoulders. Even she wasn't certain what they would find.

"This node…" she murmured. "It's older than the others. One of the first Cindarion prototypes. It predates even Vael's exile."

Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "And what does that mean for us?"

She looked at him, the shadows of memory flickering across her face. "It means whatever we find may not recognize us. Or it may remember... too much."

Saphira, sitting further back with a rifle across her lap, snorted. "That's comforting."

The submersible shuddered as it passed through a thermal vent stream, the glow illuminating jagged spires of rock and skeletal remains of ancient structures—half-natural, half-built. Faint glyphs etched into the stone pulsed in response to their presence.

"I've got a lock," Lysenne called out. "There's a chamber just ahead. Massive. Shielded by an electromagnetic field. I'm threading a narrow passage between vents. If I screw this up, we'll be melted before we hit the door."

Kaelen moved to her side. "Then don't screw it up."

Lysenne grinned. "Charming as ever, boss."

The submersible slipped into a vertical shaft framed by cracked stone pillars. At the bottom, a massive circular aperture slowly revealed itself—a vault door, nearly a hundred meters wide, its surface engraved with spirals and angular patterns that shimmered faintly in gold-blue hues.

Kaelen recognized the architecture. It was ancient, even by Isu standards. Designed not to be opened—but to contain.

"We're here," Thessara whispered.

The vessel settled on a flat ledge near the door, magnetic clamps locking in. Kaelen was the first to rise, donning his underwater exosuit. Though most of the chamber was drained, parts were still flooded. No telling what lay beyond the door.

"Everyone ready?" he asked.

Ruan cracked his knuckles. "Always."

Saphira rolled her neck. "Let's find another sleeping god and hope it doesn't want to kill us."

They disembarked in silence, stepping onto the ancient stone. The vault door loomed above them. Thessara approached it with deliberate care, raising her hand. Glyphs lit up beneath her palm, reacting to her presence—recognizing her. Or at least… acknowledging her.

"It's not locked," she said.

"That's never a good sign," Ruan muttered.

A low groan rumbled through the walls. The door slowly unfurled in segments, like petals of some impossible metal flower. Steam hissed outward, warm and strangely fragrant. Inside was darkness—dense, layered, not just an absence of light but the presence of something deeper.

They stepped through.

The chamber within was a coliseum of echoes. Tall spires lined the walls, humming with buried energy. In the center, suspended by threads of light, floated a sarcophagus. No stone. No metal. Pure energy coiled into shape.

Inside was a figure—graceful, unmoving, encased in crystalline armor. Hair like frozen flame drifted around her, and her eyes, though closed, radiated a faint glow.

Node Sigma-1. Fragment: Aenys.

"She was the First," Thessara whispered, eyes wide. "Before even me. Before Saerene. She carried the seed of Cindarion's final directive. The core."

Kaelen approached, stopping only when a pulse of invisible force met his chest. It wasn't aggressive. It questioned.

"She's aware," he said. "She knows we're here."

Suddenly, the energy threads binding the sarcophagus pulsed. The entire chamber dimmed—and Aenys opened her eyes.

No one moved.

Her voice came not as sound, but as thought—an echo in every mind at once.

"I dreamed of ash. Of stars burning black. Who calls me from the deep?"

Kaelen stepped forward. "My name is Kaelen. I carry Vael'Ruun's legacy."

A pause. Then: "And you would awaken the storm again?"

"I seek the truth of it," he said. "What Cindarion was meant to be. What it's become."

Aenys studied him, her eyes glowing like embers in ice.

"You speak with the breath of choice. That makes you dangerous."

Thessara stepped beside him. "We need her help, Aenys. The cycle is beginning again. The Unswayed move in shadows. Velion hunts us."

That name—Velion—triggered a spike of energy across the chamber. The walls groaned. Aenys frowned.

"Velion survived?"

"Yes," Kaelen said. "And he's already awakened others. He seeks to finish what was abandoned."

Aenys fell silent.

Then she spoke aloud for the first time, her voice rich and resonant.

"Then the end has truly begun."

The light surrounding her cracked like glass. Her sarcophagus dissolved, and Aenys stepped forward—tall, radiant, and ancient beyond reckoning.

"I will follow," she said, "but you must understand this, Kaelen of Vael: Cindarion was never salvation."

She reached out, placing her hand over his chest.

"It was judgment."