The sea had always unsettled him.

Even now—before the fall—he could taste the salt thick in the air, feel the spray clinging to his skin. The ship rocked beneath his feet, the groan of wood swallowed by the endless crash of waves against the hull. A sound too much like a hungry thing.

Then—chaos.

Cold slams into him as he plunges into the water. The impact knocks the breath from his lungs, turning his world into a swirl of darkness and white froth. He flails, reaching for something—anything—but there is nothing.

Only water.

Panic seizes him. His muscles scream as he claws toward the surface, but the waves twist and pull, disorienting. Through the blur of bubbles, something moves. A shadow, quick and sinuous, vanishing before he can process it.

Dread coils around his ribs, sharper than the fear of drowning.

The warnings, the rules—the interdictions—flood his mind. He never should have been here.

But they had left him no choice.

Brilliance had made him useful. Greed had made him expendable. A once-trusted friend had seen profit in his work, and with a few well-placed threats, he had been persuaded onto this voyage. Not as a guest. Not as a colleague. As a tool. One that no longer mattered the moment the ship lurched and sent him spiraling into the abyss.

A surge of anger burns through the terror. His work—his life—cannot end like this. He had so much more to do, so much left unfinished. The thought propels him, his arms pushing against the water, but his strength is waning.

Above, muffled voices. Distant. Unconcerned.

His limbs grow heavy. The salt stings his throat, flooding his lungs, and the surface drifts farther away.

Then—movement.

From the depths, two glowing orbs pierce the darkness. Watching. Waiting.

His final breath escapes in a stream of bubbles.

And then—nothing.