The ocean did not celebrate.
It watched.
Aerin felt it in the silence that followed the retreat of the surface forces—not peace, not relief, but a waiting. The kind that came before storms. The kind that came when something greater was shifting beneath the surface, unseen but inevitable.
The Wardens remained in formation, their massive bodies circling the fractured palace like sentinels carved from the oldest parts of the sea. Their glow had dimmed, not from weakness, but from restraint. They were conserving strength. Preparing.
For what came next.
Aerin stood slowly, her body protesting, every movement heavy with exhaustion. The pulse inside her had quieted, but it hadn't faded. It lingered—steady, aware. Watching, just like the ocean.
"They're not gone for good," she said quietly.
"No," Caelum replied, his voice calm but edged with certainty. "That was a probe. A test of our defenses."
