Pressure Depth
The ocean pressed in on all sides, a vast cathedral of silence. No sound, no voices, no lies—just the rhythmic pulse of water and the flicker of bioluminescence.
Aeris hovered near the edge of the trench, her lungs burning behind the rebreather mask. The descent had been steep, the route mapped only in fragmented data from Kael's corrupted memory file. He floated a few meters below her, barely a silhouette in the blue-black deep, tethered by nothing but trust.
She moved first.
Her hand sliced horizontally—stop.
Kael stilled. His body language was calm, almost careless, but his eyes were locked on hers through the visors. Focused. Waiting.
Aeris pointed toward the trench wall, fingers tapping twice. There. That's where the anomaly loops.
He angled his head slightly. A question. Sure?
She nodded once. Yes.
But the truth was, she wasn't. The memory fragment—her fragment—didn't sync with any official logs. It had bloomed in her head three nights ago: a flash of the abyss, a figure drifting just below visibility, and a metal spike driven clean through a visor.
It wasn't a murder.
It was an execution.
Kael swam toward the spot. Aeris followed, palms brushing the rock. The current whispered across her suit, tugging at her like a ghost. As they reached the outcrop, Kael reached into his belt, pulled a scanning node, and pressed it into the stone.
Nothing.
Then a shimmer. A distortion.
The wall wasn't a wall. It moved, just slightly, like light bending through oil.
Kael turned to her. Raised a brow.
She flexed her fingers. Go.
He reached forward, hand disappearing through the illusion first, then his arm, his chest—
—wait.
Her arm snapped out, grabbing his wrist. Her pupils dilated. A shadow had moved inside the shimmer, too fast. Too smooth.
Kael froze. Looked back.
She shook her head once, slow. Something's inside.
He glanced down. Then back to her. Then…
He smiled.
Not a real smile. The Kael-smirk, the one that never reached his eyes. The one she hated. The one that meant he was about to do something stupid.
She shook her head again, sharp this time. Don't.
He winked.
And vanished into the veil.
Aeris cursed silently and followed, pushing through the distortion.
Inside, the world changed.
No more trench wall—just an air pocket dome lit by pale, humming crystals, grown like barnacles over the chamber's curves. In the center, a pulsing console floated mid-air, not tethered to anything. Memory tech. Illegal. Pre-Code.
Kael stood on the far side. His back was to her.
But he wasn't alone.
A third figure emerged from the gloom—tall, armored, unreadable. No ID lights. No insignia. Just a mirrored helmet and a long, slow stride toward Kael.
Aeris surged forward, but Kael lifted a hand behind him. Stop.
His body language changed. Shoulders back. Arms relaxed. Not ready to fight.
Inviting a fight.
The figure pulled a blade from their hip. Not a gun. A blade.
Aeris flared her fingers—MOVE!
Kael didn't.
She scanned the room. No weapons. No tools. Nothing to throw.
But the console. It pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
She reached for it. Hands hovered over the surface. Symbols she didn't know—but her magic did.
A touch.
A flick.
The crystals above flared. Light stabbed the figure's visor—enough for Kael to move, spinning low and sweeping the legs.
Too slow.
The blade slashed across his arm—blood bloomed in the water.
Aeris screamed soundlessly. She dove, hand raised, magic sparking into her palm—but not fire, not heat. The water changed it. Transmuted it.
It came out as light.
Blinding, pulsing truth.
The figure reeled. Their mask cracked.
A face flickered beneath—half data. Half human. One she recognized.
The face from the memory.
But this wasn't the murder.
It was the moment before.
Kael looked at her, breathing hard. Blood drifting in threads around him.
She floated closer. Rested her forehead against his, visors touching.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
They had time.
But not much.
And not enough.