The dark teal of the sea deepened by the moment, and the heartbeat beneath the ship grew ever clearer. Chen Wuya still had one hand pressed to the railing, his knuckles white from the force. That sound was not coming from afar—it was rising directly from the seabed, pounding against his bones one beat at a time.
Bai Zhi stood slightly behind him, one hand braced on the cabin doorframe, the other pressed over her abdomen. Her face was paler than before, but she made no sound. Mo Feng crouched beside the mechanism box, his fingers rapidly adjusting several gears. The bronze mirror had been put away, replaced by a wooden plaque carved all over with runes. Smoke began to curl from its edges, as though invisible flames were roasting it.
"Something's wrong." Mo Feng looked up. "The water pressure is changing. This isn't a natural current."
Before his words had faded, the ship suddenly listed hard. The planks on deck cracked sharply, and the entire vessel seemed to be lifted from below before being viciously dragged down. Bai Zhi slipped, crashing into the cabin wall. Her shoulder struck an iron nail, blood seeping out. She bit her lip and did not cry out.
Chen Wuya was flung to the stern, his back slamming into the mast. He pushed himself up from the deck, warm liquid running from his nose. Raising a hand to wipe it away, he found blood in his palm.
"It's here," he said.
At the center of the sea, the ripples abruptly froze. Then a ring of deep-blue cracks burst across the surface, like glass struck by a heavy hammer. The fractures expanded at once, forming an enormous circular breach. Seawater spiraled down along its edges, throwing up walls upon walls of waves. The vortex spanned