The underwater ridge five hundred fathoms above the sanctuary was dead quiet.
Kyle, Yua, and Elara lay low behind a jagged shelf of black basalt. Above them, the ocean water didn't look like ocean anymore; it looked like liquid glass filled with floating golden dust. Twenty-four massive pillars made of dense, gilded brass—the Solar Anchors—were hammered deep into the seabed, glowing with a harsh, artificial light that made the surrounding sea kelp wither and turn to grey ash.
Kyle pulled his head back down, resting his spine against the cold rock. His dark eyes flickered with a faint black haze as he let out a slow, measured breath.
"Snow," Kyle whispered, his voice barely carrying past the surrounding water currents. "Give me the tactical breakdown on those perimeter guards."
