The horn's echo had barely finished rattling through the fortress when the first crack split the fjord.
It wasn't loud at first. Just a low, crawling sound—like a giant dragging a claw slowly through stone. The floor beneath Rhen's boots vibrated, subtle but undeniable.
Nymera stiffened beside him. Through the bond, fear spiked—sharp, instinctive. Not panic. Recognition.
"They're testing the ice," she said quietly.
Skelda was already moving, barking orders with ruthless efficiency. "Seal the lower gates. Iceguard to the western ridge. Merfolk to the channels—slow them, don't engage."
Her gaze snapped to Rhen and Nymera. "You wanted to be seen as more than prophecy? Congratulations. You're on the front line."
Rhen rolled his shoulders, the wound at his side protesting but holding. "Point us."
Skelda didn't smile. She pointed toward a tunnel sloping down into blue-lit darkness. "You go there. The ice caverns amplify sound and magic. If the Bridge can steady the surge, it'll be there."
Nymera inhaled slowly. "And if it can't?"
Skelda met her eyes without flinching. "Then the fjord collapses."
No pressure.
They ran.
The tunnel walls glittered with veins of ice so clear Rhen could see frozen bubbles trapped inside—air stolen centuries ago. Each step sent a sharp echo racing ahead of them, bouncing back distorted. The deeper they went, the colder it became, until even Rhen's wolf-blood felt the bite.
The sound grew louder.
A pulsing thrum, like a heartbeat not meant for this world.
Nymera staggered.
Rhen caught her, immediately. "Talk to me."
"They're… listening," she said, breath shaking. "The Deep Ones don't hear sound the way we do. They feel connection. The Bridge is a signal."
Rhen cursed under his breath. "So we're a beacon."
"Yes." She swallowed. "And bait."
The tunnel opened into a vast cavern.
Ice stretched in every direction—walls, ceiling, floor—sculpted into jagged, organic shapes like the inside of a frozen lung. At the center lay a dark pool of water, unnaturally still.
Rhen's hackles rose.
The pool moved.
Not ripples—pressure. Something enormous pressed upward from below, distorting the ice like glass over muscle.
Nymera stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly. "We don't fight it," she said quickly. "Not yet. We stabilize first."
Rhen nodded, trusting her instinct. He planted his feet, letting the wolf anchor him, and opened himself to the bond—not just to Nymera, but to the land beneath the ice. The moon's pull steadied him, cool and distant.
Nymera raised her hands.
The Voice flowed—not as a command, but as a lull. A rhythm meant to soothe tides, to calm pressure, to convince the sea that restraint was survival.
For a moment—
It worked.
The ice stopped groaning. The pool stilled. The pressure eased, just slightly.
Rhen exhaled.
Then the Deep One laughed.
The sound wasn't audible—not really. It crawled along Rhen's nerves, scraped the inside of his skull, twisted memories that weren't his.
Little bridges break the easiest.
Nymera cried out, dropping to one knee as the bond flared violently.
Rhen snarled, dropping beside her. "Ny! Stay with me!"
"I'm here," she gasped. "It's trying to pull me under—into the pressure. It wants to stretch the Bridge until it snaps."
Rhen felt it then—the demand Azkarel had warned them about. Not death. Not destruction.
Consumption.
The Deep Ones didn't want to end the world.
They wanted to feed on its balance.
Rhen made a choice.
He opened himself fully—not to the moon, not to the sea—but to himself. To the man and the wolf and the bridge between them.
He stood.
"Listen to me," he said aloud, voice echoing through the ice. "You don't want collapse. You want continuity."
The pressure paused.
Nymera looked up at him, shock flashing through the pain. "Rhen—don't talk to it—"
"I'm not commanding," he said quietly. "I'm negotiating."
He pressed a bloodied palm to the ice.
Cold burned—but he didn't pull away.
"You fed on imbalance because that's all you were given," he continued. "Wars. Lies. Broken bonds. But we're not that."
The pool bulged again, closer now. The ice spiderwebbed with cracks.
Nymera forced herself upright and joined him, placing her hand over his. The bond surged—not violently, but wide.
"We are not endless," she said, voice shaking but strong. "If you drain us, the signal dies. The world goes quiet again."
Silence.
Then—a shift.
The pressure receded, just a fraction. Enough for the ice to hold.
Rhen felt the cost immediately.
Strength drained from him, not in a rush, but in a slow siphon—like warmth leaving a body. His knees buckled.
Nymera screamed as the same drain hit her, sharper, crueler.
Rhen collapsed, pulling her down with him, holding her tight as the cavern steadied.
The Deep One withdrew.
Not defeated.
Appeased.
For now.
Skelda's voice echoed faintly from above, carried through the ice. "The surge is stabilizing!"
Rhen laughed weakly. "That's one way to put it."
Nymera lay against his chest, trembling. "It took something," she whispered.
Rhen closed his eyes. "Yeah."
He felt it—clear as breath.
A future they would never have.
A path quietly erased.
The Bridge had taken its due.
They were carried back to the fortress in silence.
Skelda watched them with new eyes as healers tended their wounds. "You didn't kill it," she said.
Nymera shook her head. "No."
Skelda nodded slowly. "Good. Killing monsters is easy. Teaching them restraint is harder."
She paused. "You passed the test."
Rhen managed a tired smile. "That's a relief."
Skelda's expression softened—just a little. "Don't mistake this for safety. The Deep Ones will return. And next time, they'll push harder."
Nymera met her gaze. "So will we."
Later, alone in a quiet chamber, Nymera finally let herself cry.
Rhen held her, rocking slightly, feeling the hollow ache inside his chest where something unnamed used to be.
"We lost something," she whispered.
He pressed his forehead to hers. "We're still here."
"For now."
He didn't lie. "For now is enough."
Outside, the fjords creaked and settled. The ice held.
The world breathed—tentatively.
And somewhere beneath it all, hunger waited, patient and learning.