I awaken from a distant dream.

  My eyes take a moment to adjust to the torchlit room. I guess this is my guildmate’s way of telling me to wake up.

  I glance toward the shelf beside my cot and reach for my necklace. Clutching it in both hands, I fasten it around my neck the way I have every day since that day.

  For a moment, I sit there, half-lost in thought.

  Then I hear something—muffled voices coming from the dining hall.

  I wander out of the sleeping quarters, still in my nightwear. The voices are louder now, clearer. I press my ear against the wooden wall, hoping to catch the conversation. And then—

  WHAM.

  A burst of laughter slams into my skull—figuratively first, then literally. I stumble through the half-open doorway and smack my forehead directly into the top of the frame. My vision goes black.

  “Huh…?” I groan as I inch back into consciousness.

  When I open my eyes, Antarc and Charlie are standing over me, tears of laughter in their eyes.

  “Who are you laughing at?!” I shout, trying to sit up. A sharp pain rings through my forehead. I glance at the door frame and spot a new, very obvious head-shaped dent. Great.

  “That answers that,” I mutter, groaning.

  The massive dining table sits just ahead, perfectly placed for their audience.

  “He really thought we couldn’t see him!” Antarc says between bites of bisque, grinning like he won the lottery. He sure eats a lot for someone who never touches the kitchen.

  “Antarc! Stop. You’re being an asshole, man,” Charlie says, barely containing his own laughter.

  “What a way to start our day, right, Zadahn?”

  Antarc’s smug grin nearly splits his face in two.

  “You’re being hard on him. Not as hard as that door frame, though,” Charlie adds, cracking up again. Antarc nearly spits out his food.

  “Seriously, that was quite the hit. Are you sure you’re all there?”

  “Antarc,” I groan, finally getting to my feet.

  Being six-foot-eight has its perks, sure—but doorways were not built with me in mind. Still, my size and strength have the added benefit of telling my guildmates exactly when to shut up.

  “Y-yes… s-sir?” Antarc mockingly stammers, cracking up again.

  Antarc’s five-foot-five, deeply tanned, and surprisingly muscular. His Canor blood gives him those sharp canine teeth and fierce eyes. The unkempt sideburns? I still can’t tell if that’s a Canor thing or just his thing. He thinks he’s hilarious. Sometimes, he is. Sometimes.

  “If only your wallet was as full as your mouth,” I say, smirking. “How many times have I had to cover your share? We’re all broke, Antarc. You’re not a side quest I can keep funding forever.”

  His face shifts instantly. The dark braids on his head flicker red, and his hazel eyes burn with bright orange fire.

  “Oh?” I feel the Song flow through me, and electricity tingles at my fingertips. I focus, and the Mantra comes naturally.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Lightning Cloak.”

  Sparks and arcs of lightning race across my skin, crackling and humming around my body. I raise my right hand toward him. We lock eyes.

  Charlie, meanwhile, watches us from the side, casually glancing toward the kitchenette window where Sevilla’s prepping breakfast—probably wondering what he’s going to eat. Not my problem. He chose to be vegetarian. Sevilla always pulls something together for him anyway.

  “Alright, enough side-tracking,” I yawn, my eyes flashing with Thundercall.

  Antarc finally extends his left arm toward me, palm open. With a burst of static, we dash forward and meet in the middle with a handshake, followed by a fist bump, ending in a simultaneous snap of our fingers.

  Just like we’ve practiced.

  His hair dims. The lightning fades. The smell of smoke clings to my nightclothes.

  Sevilla, Antarc, and I laugh as the tension breaks. Charlie, trying to ignore his empty plate, finally speaks up.

  “Haha… uhm… S-Sevilla, just checking, but… are you planning on maybe making some v-vegetarian alternatives, p-perchance?”

  His bright green eyes, wide behind round spectacles, are full of dread. He’s wearing his usual—plain white button-up, brown vest, black dress shoes with a custom “B” engraved at the tips. One of his weird hobbies. Shoemaking. Very Charlie.

  Charlie’s a Celtorian, like a lot of displaced folks. Their capital, Celtor, was lost during the Great Drowning. When it sank into the Depths, their people scattered across the world. They’re known for large, oddly shaped birthmarks across the face. Charlie’s is a dark green stripe stretching across his nose and cheeks. Honestly, I think it suits him.

  Apparently, that drowned city still exists. Somewhere out there, deep beneath the waves. Waiting.

  It calls to me.

  I don’t know why, but the pull is real. It’s not just the promise of gold or glory. Something about that place feels personal. Like it wants me to find it— and not only the riches, but the secrets sunk along with it.

  I snap out of my daydream.

  “Come on, Charlie. You always kill the mood,” I say, dropping into my chair.

  “Since the days of the Eleventh Legion,” Antarc yawns dramatically, slumping back in his seat.

  “You guys enjoy your morally questionable meals,” Charlie grumbles.

  “King Crustacean Soup, boys!” Sevilla calls from the kitchen window.

  A wave of nostalgia washes over me. The smell reminds me of the rare times my grandmother would visit. Simpler days.

  I glance up at Sevilla—her black hair streaked with gray, cat-like ears twitching as she carefully slices through the crustacean shells. Her golden eyes are narrow and focused. Even at sixty-seven, she moves with grace. That’s a Felinor for you.

  She pushes the door open with her leg and enters, balancing a tray of five plates. Four of them carry steaming bowls of soup. The last one…

  I don’t even know what to call it. Not food, that’s for sure. Charlie gags before the plate even lands.

  Sevilla places the tray down with surprising gentleness and turns to me.

  “Zadahn, honey, have you seen Alexandria?”

  I shrug. “Nope. You, Ant? Charlie?”

  “Not a clue,” they say in sync. Then they glance at each other and grin.

  “Probably out trying to fly. Chasing birds or something,” Antarc smirks, taking a jab at Alexandria and me—both Tirans.

  Tirans are bird-like. Tufts of feathers, melodic voices. Alexandria and I don’t really look alike, but the ancestry’s there.

  Sevilla and I shoot Antarc identical glares.

  We’re only missing Alexandria, who’s probably running some errand to scrounge up notes. With the economy being what it is, even a handful of notes can make or break you.

  Charlie’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

  “Zadahn, where’d you get that necklace again?”

  I glance down at the strange blue cylinder hanging from my chest. Three cold, interlocked rings of blue-tinged steel, edges dulled by time. It hums faintly when I wear it—like it’s listening.

  “Some chest in a cave back on Miner’s Landing,” I say, scratching my head. “Uhm… maybe twelve years ago? Definitely before I joined the Legions.”

  Charlie squints at me like I’ve just insulted his ancestors. “That’s it? That’s your origin story for this weird trinket?”

  “Yeah, well, I had this dream—”

  The door bursts open.

  Alexandria stands there, panting hard.

  Her eyes—gold, wide with urgency. Sweat lines her brow. Her wind-blown hair sticks to her face. She definitely ran here.

  “Zadahn,” she breathes. “Have you heard of a Celtorian whirlpool?”

  My heart skips a beat.

  She stammers out the rest. “A little Navaen girl ran into the Antiquarian’s shop—soaked, crying, screaming about how a whirlpool swallowed her dad’s fishing boat. No one believed her, but I… I remembered what you said. About the underwater city. So I ran back.”

  “Where is she?” I cut in, my voice sharp.

  Alexandria blinks. “She’s still there, I think—”

  I’m already on the move, heading toward the quarters.

  “This could be it,” I say, breath catching in my throat. “Everyone, gear up. Now.”

  For the first time in a long time, I have a sneaking suspicion. Maybe it isn’t dreams that await us beneath the surface.