"Shark," Thalos barks, his tone shifting back to the gruff commander. "I need your muscle."
Kael swims forward. He stops beside the old mer.
"The primary housing," Thalos instructs, pointing a bony finger at a heavy copper cylinder in the center of the engine. "It is rusted shut. Pull the locking pins. Open the chamber."
Kael grips the iron pins. He braces his broad shoulders. He flexes his arms. The muscles in his back bunch and ripple under his pale skin. He pulls with raw, brute force.
The rusted metal groans. A loud shriek of friction fills the cabin. The pins snap free.
Kael pulls the heavy copper door open. He exposes the hollow center of the engine.
Thalos moves in. He slides the glowing blue glass vial directly into the dark copper chamber. The fit is incredibly tight. The glass scrapes against the metal walls. Thalos pushes it deep until the vial locks into the central cradle.
"Close it," Thalos orders.
Kael slams the heavy copper door shut. He forces the iron locking pins back into place, securing the volatile core inside the impenetrable metal housing.
Thalos picks up his rusted iron wrench.
"The intake," Thalos says, looking at Kael. "The rear fan blades are choked with debris. We cannot ignite the core until the exhaust is clear. The backflow will shatter the glass."
Kael doesn’t wait for further instruction.
He turns and swims out the front door. He navigates around the side of the shell, heading for the rear exhaust port.
I float near Mira. I watch Thalos work.
The old mer tightens the heavy iron brackets around the copper housing. He connects a series of woven copper wires to the base of the chamber. He works with frantic energy. He knows exactly how to bridge the gap between magic and mechanics.
A loud scraping sound is heard from the rear of the ship.
The water shudders around us. A heavy, rhythmic thudding travels through the hull—the sound of Kael working outside the shell. I hear the sharp crack of kelp fibers yielding to his strength, followed by the sharp pop of barnacles breaking under immense force. He tears through the tangled growth that clogs our intake vents, clearing the throat of our home with raw, physical power.
A few minutes later, Kael pushes through the heavy kelp curtain, his movements displacing the water with a rush. His large hands are covered in black sludge and bits of broken shell, the debris clinging to his skin.
"The blades are clear," Kael rumbles, his voice a deep vibration that settles in my bones.
He swims to my side, wiping his dirty hands on his gray tail before reaching out. He captures my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. His grip is tight, possessive, grounding me in the charged atmosphere.
Thalos drops the iron wrench. The heavy tool strikes the floorboards with a resonant clang.
The ancient prophet turns to face the heavy iron lever mounted on the wall beside the engine block. Its surface is pitted with age, the metal worn smooth in places from decades of use. The lever controls the flow of the volatile alchemical energy through the core.
"We have one shot at this," Thalos warns the room. His bright blue eyes sweep over each of us in turn. "If the glass cracks, the thermal reaction will vaporize this entire shell. Brace yourselves."
I squeeze Kael's hand, the pressure a silent admission of the fear that builds in my stomach. He responds by pulling me a fraction closer to his solid side, his body a protective barrier against what's to come.
Mira pulls Pip into her lap. She shields the shrimp with her thin arms, her body curled protectively over his small form. Pip clicks softly, his antennae twitching as if sensing the tension in the water.
Thalos grips the heavy iron lever with both hands. His knuckles turn white as he prepares to release the volatile mixture.
He pulls it down.
A loud, heavy click.
For one agonizing second, nothing happens. The water is completely still, dead. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat counting down the possibilities of failure.
Then, a spark.
