They push forward, descending past the midnight zone, past the hadalpelagic zone, into the very bottom of the trench.
And there it is.
The Genesis Seed.
It is not a rock. It is not a mineral. It is a massive, geometric structure of pure, golden light, easily the size of a city block, resting in the silt. It pulses with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat that sends ripples of warm, creation energy through the freezing water. It is beautiful. It is terrifying. It is singing.
“It’s too loud,” one of the astral wolves whimpers, his form flickering violently. “The song... it’s pulling me in.”
“Ignore the song!” Kieran roars, stepping between his wolf and the Seed. He can feel it too. The song is a siren call, promising absolute peace, absolute unity. It wants to be opened. It wants to sprout. “We
