Kael opens his mouth.
He forgoes a roar. He rejects a shout.
He sings.
The note starts low. A heavy, sub-harmonic thrum counters the sickening vibration radiating from the floor.
Hummmmm.The shaking in the marble stops.
Soryn looks up from the console, confused by the sudden stabilization. He scans the crowd, searching for the source of the interference.
Kael pitches his deep voice higher. He matches the agonizing whine of the weapon.
This offers no pretty, melodic sound. It is a raw, jagged, terrifying note of pure acoustic power. It holds the history of the Wastes. The sound of tectonic plates grinding together in the dark. The sound of the crushing pressure of the black abyss.
The Song of the Trench.
The crystal spire wavers. The light pulsing inside flickers, struggling against the competing frequency.
Soryn spots Kael on the porch. He registers the threat.
"Kill the shark!" Soryn screams, pointing at the shell. "That one!"
Two Royal Guards break from the melee. They raise their spears and charge the porch, locking their sight on Kael's exposed back.
I launch myself from the wood.
Colliding with the first guard mid-water, I drive the hilt of my dagger into his helm. The impact rings through my arm. The guard falls, his spear clattering to the marble. The second guard thrusts. Twisting my tail, I dodge the iron tip and slice my blade across the webbing of his fins. He cries out, retreating into the crowd.
Falling back to the porch, I reclaim my position behind Kael. I keep my blade raised. My chest heaves.
Nothing breaks my line.
"Fire! Fire the weapon, damn you!" Soryn screams, slamming his hand against the activation key.
The Tidal Bore fires. A blinding beam of pure sonic energy erupts from the glowing tip, aimed at the foundation of the city.
Kael’s heavy song meets it head-on.
The two frequencies collide in the center of the Plaza.
The resulting sound is blinding. The pitch pushes beyond the physical capability of hearing, yet it tears at my biology. My bones rattle in my flesh. The freezing water turns scalding hot.
Kael’s broad back arches in agony. Blood trickles from his nose. Dark red ribbons curl into the water from his ears. The physical strain of projecting the sound tears his newly healed vocal cords apart from the inside.
"Kael!" I scream, watching his scales pale under the pressure.
He refuses to stop. He pushes harder. He pours every ounce of his new voice, every agonizing second of his stolen silence, into the heavy note. He utilizes the copper hull of the shell to amplify the sound, transforming his own body into a living weapon.
He rewrites the deadly song of the machine. He turns the scream into a heavy lullaby.
Another Royal Guard breaches our perimeter, lunging for Kael with a drawn blade.
Before I strike, a heavy iron harpoon tears through the water, pinning the guard to a marble column.
I check the shell.
Mira slumps against the rusted doorway, a heavy pneumatic harpoon gun resting in her lap. The pressure valves hiss a stream of bubbles into the water. The brutal recoil of the weapon threw her frail body against the iron frame, but her milky eyes burn fierce.
