The ascent from the Mariana Trench is a silent, agonizing crawl through the crushing dark.
Inside the cramped command module of the Nereus II, the air is thick with the metallic tang of blood, the sharp ozone scent of spent magic, and the sterile hum of the life support systems. The only light comes from the dim, red emergency strips lining the bulkheads, casting long, grotesque shadows across the faces of the survivors.
I am strapped into the acceleration couch, my body feeling as though it has been run through a thresher. Every breath is a shallow, ragged effort. My muscles tremble with a deep, cellular exhaustion that goes beyond physical fatigue; it is the profound, hollow ache of a magical core that has been pushed to the absolute limit and fractured.
Beside me, Kade is in a simila
