The sharp clang rings loud in the confined space.
"Stop hitting the ship," Kael rumbles from behind me, his deep voice vibrating the floorboards with its intensity. "You were somehow more nimble as a cursed eel, old mer."
Thalos turns his head slowly, his piercing golden eyes narrowing at the shark, the yellow orbs seeming to glow with ancient knowledge.
"I know more about thermal-combustion mechanics than your entire species has ever conceptualized," Thalos snaps, his voice raspy with indignation. "The intake valves are fused with century-old calcium deposits. The primary coil is completelymelted. I am trying to unfreeze the gears before we blow ourselves to pieces.”
He rubs his mossy beard with the back of his hand, the gesture somehow conveying both irritation and expertise. “Did you bring the materials?"
I nod, my attention shifting between the two mers, their dynamic a constant source of fascination. I swim forward, the water parting easily around my body.
I lower the mesh net to the sand floor, the woven fibers making a soft whispering sound as they settle. I untie the heavy knot with practiced fingers, the rope giving way easily from our recent use. I pull the six reinforced glass vials from the bag, their surfaces cool and smooth against my skin. I set them in a neat row in front of Mira, each one positioned carefully on the sand. The green glass rests heavy.
Kael drops his woven sack next to the vials, the canvas falling open with a soft whooshing sound.
The Fire-Kelp spills out, the golden and red fronds tumbling onto the sand in a cascade of vibrant color.
The raw heat of the deep trench hits the cabin instantly, the temperature of the water around us spiking so rapidly it feels like we've been plunged into a thermal spring. The kelp pulses with intense thermal energy, its glow intensifying as if the fronds are beating hearts made of magma. Small, silver bubbles boil up from the sand beneath the glowing plants, rising to burst against the ceiling with soft pops.
I untie the bone flask from my belt, the leather creaking softly as I pull it free. I hold it out to Mira.
"The venom," I state, my voice carrying through the warmth.
Mira reaches up with trembling hands. She takes the bone flask, her gray fingers curling tight around the carved white surface. Her knuckles stand out sharp against the bone.
"Thank you," Mira rasps. Her voice is a harsh scrape of sound, but it carries weight.
She sets the flask beside the heavy glass vials. She takes a deep, ragged breath, her thin chest expanding. She closes her milky eyes for a single second, centering her mind. The dying soldier vanishes. The master alchemist emerges, her posture straightening as if an invisible weight has been lifted.
"Give me room," Mira commands, her voice sharp in the enclosed space.
Thalos swims over from the engine, his ancient joints creaking softly. He hovers near the ceiling, watching her with keen interest, his golden eyes reflecting the kelp's glow.
Kael moves to my side, his frame blocking the worst of the heat from reaching me. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his scarred muscles rippling. We form a silent circle around the gray mer, our presence a barrier against the outside world.
Mira pulls a flat, smooth slate stone from the pile of scavenged supplies, its surface dark against the glowing kelp. She sets it flat on the sand, her movements precise. She selects the largest, brightest piece of Fire-Kelp from the pile, its fronds pulsing with captured heat. She places the glowing stalk in the center of the dark stone, its radiance painting her gray skin in hues of gold and crimson.
She presses her bare, delicate hands directly onto the scalding kelp, her palms meeting the searing heat without hesitation.
The raw thermal energy boils the water against her palms, creating small bubbles that cling to her skin like jewels. A sharp hiss of steam escapes the contact point, the sound cutting through the gentle lapping of water against the hull.
I tense, expecting her to cry out in pain.
She does not flinch. She ignores the blistering burn. She pushes her weight down, crushing the fibers of the deep-sea plant with quiet determination.
She grinds the kelp against the slate in rhythmic, circular motions. The tough outer skin splits with a soft tearing sound. A glowing golden pulp oozes from the broken stalk, its consistency like molten honey.
The pulp radiates a pure, blinding heat that makes the cabin water grow uncomfortably warm. A bead of sweat forms on my brow, tracing a path down my temple. Kael shifts beside me, his gills flaring wide to cycle the oxygen, his dark eyes fixed on Mira with unwavering focus.
Mira works with rhythmic efficiency. She crushes three more stalks, adding the glowing mass to the center of the stone until she's created a mound of raw thermal fuel that pulses like a living heart. The heat is nearly unbearable now, the air heavy with the scent of sulfur and ozone.
She picks up a small, sharpened bone scraper from the pile of supplies, its edge honed to a fine point. She carefully scoops the boiling golden pulp from the slate, her hands steady despite the intense heat radiating from the mass.
She selects the largest of the reinforced green glass vials, its walls designed to withstand immense pressure. She funnels the glowing mass through the narrow neck of the bottle. The glass instantly heats up, turning warm to the touch as it absorbs the thermal energy.
The golden pulp settles at the bottom of the vial, pulsing like a captured star in its green glass prison. Mira sets the bone scraper down.
Thalos watches the golden liquid boil, his ancient eyes reflecting its light like two golden coins. He rubs his mossy beard thought.
