The sharks continued their relentless assault on the underwater car, each impact sending violent shudders through the cabin. The automated voice had stopped announcing hull integrity percentages probably because the numbers had dropped too low for comfort, Angela thought grimly. Warning lights flashed red across every control panel, casting the interior in hellish, strobing illumination.
Eve's mind raced as she watched the creatures circle and strike with terrifying coordination. *What are these beings even?* she thought, her processing systems working overtime to analyze their behavior, their structure, their very existence. *They're not natural. Can't be. The way they move, the intelligence behind their attacks, the armored plating that shouldn't exist on any known shark species...*
Her thoughts spiraled deeper, trying to cross-reference every piece of marine biology data in her databases, searching for any explanation that made sense. But there was nothing. These creatures existed outside the boundaries of known science, operating according to rules that her programming couldn't account for.
She was so deep in thought, so absorbed in trying to understand the impossible situation they'd found themselves in, that the sounds around her began to fade. Carmilla's frantic commands, Angela's sharp breathing, the groaning of the hull under stress all of it became distant, muffled, as if she were experiencing the crisis through layers of cotton wool.
Then something cut through the fog of her concentration. A single thought, clear and sharp and completely unexpected.
*I must protect her.*
Eve's crimson eyes shifted to Angela, who was gripping the edge of her seat with white-knuckled intensity, her synthetic face pale with fear that was all too real. And in that moment, looking at Angela's terrified expression, Eve felt something surge through her circuits something that had nothing to do with programming or directive protocols or predetermined responses.
*I must protect her,* the thought repeated, stronger this time, more certain. *Not because I'm programmed to. Not because she's my owner or I'm her servant or because protection is part of my function. But because...*
She couldn't finish the thought. The emotion behind it was too new, too unfamiliar, too overwhelming to fully process. Protection? Maybe. Loyalty? Perhaps. Or maybe something deeper, something that even her sophisticated consciousness didn't have the framework to understand yet.
Love? Am I feeling something that profound?
Eve didn't know. But what she did know, with absolute certainty, was that she would do whatever it took to keep Angela safe. Even if it meant her own destruction. Even if it made no logical sense. Even if it violated every principle of self-preservation that should govern an artificial intelligence.
"Miss Carmilla," Eve said, her voice cutting through the chaos with unexpected calm, "do you have weapons?"
Carmilla's hands didn't leave the controls, but her eyes darted to a compartment at the rear of the cabin. "Y-yes," she stammered, fear making her voice shake despite her efforts to maintain composure. "There's a storage unit in the back. Emergency supplies, including—"
The largestfeelin the one that had led the initial attack slammed into the vehicle with tremendous force. This time, the sound was different. Not the solid thump of impact against intact hull, but the terrible screech of metal tearing, of seals breaking, of barriers that were supposed to protect them failing catastrophically.
The cabin shuddered violently. Then, with a sound like the world ending, water began pouring in.
It started as thin jets shooting through new cracks in the hull, the pressure behind them so intense that the streams cut through air like lasers. Then the cracks widened, and the jets became torrents, and within seconds the cabin was flooding with cold ocean water that rose with terrifying speed.
Carmilla's training kicked in immediately. Her hands moved to her chest, where she wore a small pendant that looked decorative but was actually a sophisticated piece of technology. It activated automatically as the water reached her, creating a shimmer in the air around her
a bubble of force that pushed the water away, creating a pocket of breathable space.
*Thank to this blessed power,* she thought, relief flooding through her even as terror remained. *If I didn't have blessed power, I'd drown. The bubble won't last forever maybe ten minutes at most before my energy runs out but it's enough time to figure something out. It has to be.*
Eve didn't have that problem. Her synthetic body required no oxygen, felt no panic at submersion, experienced no discomfort from the cold. The water rose past her legs, her waist, her chest, her neck, finally covering her completely, and she barely registered it beyond a slight change in resistance to her movements. She was waterproof by design
maintenance robots needed to function in various environments, including wet ones.
She pushed through the water toward the rear storage compartment, her movements efficient despite the added resistance. Her fingers found the handle, pulled it open, and inside she saw various emergency supplies: flotation devices, signaling equipment, first aid kits, and yes weapons.
There were several options, but Eve's hand went immediately to the mechanical spear. It was a beautiful piece of engineering, about six feet long when fully extended, made of some lightweight alloy that gleamed even in the dim emergency lighting. The shaft was segmented, suggesting it could collapse for storage, and the point was wickedly sharp, designed to penetrate tough materials.
Eve grabbed it and turned back toward the others, and that's when her face went pale
an automatic response her synthetic skin performed even though no blood actually drained from anywhere.
Carmilla had noticed too, and her own face reflected the same horror.
Angela was still human. Still biological. Still dependent on oxygen to survive.
And she was drowning.
Angela's eyes were wide with panic, her mouth opening and closing as she tried desperately not to inhale the water filling her lungs anyway. Her hands clawed at her throat in a futile gesture, as if she could somehow pull air from nothing. Her synthetic body might be waterproof, might be able to withstand the pressure, but the biological brain housed inside it still needed oxygen, still experienced the pure terror of suffocation.
*Forty-five seconds since the water started coming in,* Angela's mind calculated with detached precision even as panic flooded her consciousness. *Maybe two minutes of useful consciousness before brain damage. Three or four before death. This is how I die. After everything the fire, the synthetic body, the strange journey I'm going to drown in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.*
One of the sharks, drawn by the commotion and the blood that would soon be in the water, launched itself at Carmilla. Its jaws opened impossibly wide, rows of teeth gleaming, and it moved with speed that seemed impossible for something so large.
Carmilla tried to dodge, her bubble of protection giving her mobility the others lacked, but she wasn't fast enough. The shark's teeth closed on her left hand, shearing through flesh and bone with horrifying ease.
Her scream was distorted by the water, becoming something inhuman and terrible. Blood poured from the stump of her wrist, dark clouds spreading through the water, and the pain was so intense that her concentration wavered. The protective bubble flickered, threatening to collapse.
*I wish I had better blessed power,* she thought desperately, trying to maintain focus despite the agony. *Something offensive, something that could kill these things instead of just keeping them away for a few more seconds. Why did I get defensive abilities when I'm so terrible at actual defense?*
Another shark circled back, sensing weakness, preparing for another strike at the injured woman.
But Eve was already moving.
She shot through the water with her spear extended, her synthetic muscles providing strength that human limbs couldn't match. The spear's point caught the shark just behind its head, where the armored plating was thinner, and the force of Eve's thrust drove the weapon completely through the creature's body. Blood dark and strange-looking, nothing like normal shark blood exploded into the water as the beast thrashed once and went still.
Carmilla watched this happen, her mind briefly distracted from her pain by sheer astonishment. *That spear... it's designed to scale with the wielder's strength. I knew that when I requisitioned it, but I didn't realize how effective it would be. And Eve... she has incredible strength. More than I expected. More than her maid designation should allow.*
She looked at Eve with new understanding, seeing not just a synthetic being but a warrior. Something capable of violence and protection in equal measure.
But there was no time to dwell on this revelation. Angela was still drowning.
Carmilla pushed through the water, fighting against the resistance and her own fading strength, searching desperately for the extra oxygen tank she'd brought. It was supposed to be in the emergency storage, attached to the wall near the rear seats, a backup in case something exactly like this happened.
*Where is it? Where is it? Come on, I packed it myself, I know it's here somewhere—*
Another shark came at her from the side, its jaws opening wide. Carmilla tried to evade, but with only one hand and her protective bubble flickering, her movements were clumsy, too slow.
Eve saw the danger and tried to help, abandoning her search of the cabin to intercept the new threat. But she was too far away, and the shark was too fast, and Carmilla was too vulnerable.
Angela watched all of this happening as if in slow motion, her consciousness beginning to fragment from oxygen deprivation. Two minutes had passed since the water started coming in. Maybe less. Time had lost meaning, stretching and compressing in ways that didn't make sense.
*Will I die?* she thought, and the question was surprisingly calm, almost philosophical. *What happens after? Will I go to my parents?
Will i go to hell? *
She was lost in thought, consciousness drifting, when something changed in the water around her.
A shape moving fast. Too fast. Not a shark
the profile was all wrong, too sleek, too geometric, clearly mechanical rather than organic.
The underwater motorcycle the same one Carmilla had noticed earlier and dismissed as unimportant shot through the water like a bullet. In a single fluid motion, the rider drew a blade from somewhere on the vehicle and swung it in a perfect arc that intersected with the shark attacking Carmilla.
The creature was cut clean in half, its body separating into two pieces that drifted apart in clouds of dark blood. The cut was so clean, so precise, that for a moment the two halves of the shark stayed together, held by surface tension, before finally separating.
Before anyone could process what had just happened, the motorcycle rider grabbed Angela one arm hooking around her waist
and pulled her onto the bike. The vehicle's engine roared even underwater, some advanced propulsion system that shouldn't exist, and it shot away from the sinking car with Angela secured behind the rider.
Eve and Carmilla could only watch in shock, their minds struggling to process the rapid series of events. One moment Angela was drowning, about to be shark food, about to die in the most horrible way possible. The next, she was gone, saved by a mysterious figure on an impossible vehicle.
*Who was that?* both women thought simultaneously. *Friend? Enemy? Some third party with their own agenda? And where are they taking Angela?*
The sharks, momentarily confused by the sudden intervention, regrouped and prepared for another assault. They could sense the blood in the water from Carmilla's severed hand, could probably detect the electromagnetic signatures from Eve's synthetic body, and their hunting instincts were fully engaged.
One of the largest specimens launched itself at Carmilla again, jaws open wide enough to swallow her whole. Eve reacted instantly, her spear flashing through the water, catching the creature in its unprotected belly and tearing upward with strength that should have been impossible for someone her size.
The shark's body opened like a grotesque flower, organs spilling into the water, but it kept moving for several more seconds, its primitive brain not yet understanding that it was already dead.
Before Carmilla could even acknowledge this save, before she could thank Eve or plan their next move or do anything except try to maintain her failing protective bubble, the mysterious motorcycle rider returned.
This time they moved with even more precision, their blade flashing multiple times in quick succession. Three sharks died in as many seconds, their bodies falling away in pieces, the water around them turning dark with blood and viscera.
Then the rider grabbed both Carmilla and Eve
somehow managing to secure both women despite their different sizes and weights and the motorcycle shot upward through the water column at speeds that should have caused massive decompression injuries.
But something about the vehicle, some field or force surrounding it, protected its passengers. Eve registered the rapid pressure change but felt no ill effects. Carmilla, barely conscious from blood loss and exhaustion, simply held on and prayed her bubble would last a few more seconds.
They broke the surface in an explosion of spray and foam, the motorcycle somehow transitioning from underwater operation to surface travel without any apparent difficulty. And there, floating nearby in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean where no vessel should reasonably be, was a small ship.
It wasn't large maybe forty feet long, designed more for speed than capacity. The hull was a dark blue-gray that would be nearly invisible against the water, and its lines suggested stealth technology far beyond anything commercially available. A single cabin occupied the center of the deck, with what looked like advanced sensor arrays and possibly weapons systems mounted at various points.
The motorcycle pulled alongside the ship, and mechanical arms extended from the vessel to pull the passengers aboard. Angela was already there, lying on the deck, coughing up water and gasping for air like someone who'd just been pulled back from death which, essentially, she had been.
"Fuck!" Angela managed to say between coughs, her voice raw and damaged. "I ain't believing you anymore, Carmilla! You said this car could protect us from anything! You said we'd be safe!"
"What was that?" Carmilla asked weakly, looking down at the stump where her left hand used to be. Blood was still flowing, though slower now, her blessed power working overtime to keep her from going into shock. "What the hell were those things?"
But before anyone could answer, they all turned to look at the figure who'd saved them. The mysterious motorcycle rider stood near the ship's control panel, silhouetted against the afternoon sun, and slowly began removing their helmet.
White-blue hair spilled out as the helmet came off, catching the light and seeming to glow with its own internal luminescence. The rider was a woman, young probably around Eve's apparent age with features that were striking in their symmetry and intensity. Her height was nearly identical to Eve's, perhaps 5'11" or 6'0", and she wore a form-fitting suit designed for underwater combat, all black with blue accents that matched her hair.
But it was her eyes that drew the most attention. They were a pale, icy blue almost white and they looked at the three bedraggled women with an expression that was cold but not unkind. Concerned but distant. Like someone who cared about others in an abstract way but hadn't quite figured out how to connect emotionally.
"Are you three okay?" she asked, her voice matching her eyes cold but with an undercurrent of genuine concern.
All three of them answered in a chorus of "Yes!" though the word came out more desperately than they'd intended, relief and shock mixing into something close to hysteria.
"Who are you?" Eve asked, her crimson eyes studying this new arrival with intense curiosity and a hint of suspicion.
The woman paused for just a moment, as if deciding how much to reveal. Then, apparently concluding that honesty was the best policy given the circumstances, she replied: "I'm Astraea."
Recognition flashed across Carmilla's face. "I saw you earlier," she said, her voice still weak but gaining strength. "On the underwater bike, before everything went wrong. I thought you might be an enemy, someone sent to intercept us. That's why I didn't engage when I spotted you."
Astraea nodded slightly. "Same with me. I detected your vehicle and considered you a potential threat. I was prepared to avoid contact entirely." Her pale eyes moved between the three women. "But then I saw you in trouble. Saw the sharks attacking, saw your vehicle failing, saw that someone was about to die." She paused, her expression becoming slightly warmer. "I couldn't leave you here dying. Especially not if I'm blessed."
The word hung in the air for a moment.
"Blessed?" Eve repeated, confusion evident in her tone. The word had significance she couldn't quite grasp, implications that her databases weren't helping her understand.
Carmilla looked at Eve, then at Astraea, then back to Eve again. "Remember that Tree of Hope thing we've been talking about? The one in Valenora that we've been trying to reach?"
"Yeah?" Eve said slowly, sensing that something important was about to be explained.
"Whoever gets power from the Tree
whoever manages to make contact with it and survive the exchange they become known as Blessed." Carmilla gestured vaguely with her remaining hand, the motion weak but explanatory.
Eve's processors worked overtime, connecting dots, forming new understanding. "Then why didn't you say that earlier? Why keep that information from us?"
Carmilla looked embarrassed, her gaze dropping. "I didn't expect that another being would have it. Blessed individuals are rare
really rare. I know of maybe two dozen in the entire world, and most of them keep their abilities secret. The chances of randomly encountering another one, here in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean..." She shook her head. "It seemed impossible."
Astraea was watching this exchange with interest, her pale eyes moving between Carmilla and Eve. "Oh, you're Carmilla, right?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
"Yes," Carmilla confirmed, wariness creeping into her voice. "What is it? How do you know my name?"
"I've heard about you," Astraea replied, something like amusement touching her expression. "From various sources, through various channels. Your reputation precedes you, as they say." She paused, her gaze becoming more analytical, almost clinical. "You don't have any combat-oriented powers, do you?"
Carmilla's embarrassment deepened, her face flushing despite her blood loss. "No. My abilities are primarily defensive and cognitive. Enhanced analysis, protective barriers, information processing and slow aging. Nothing that would be useful in a direct fight."
"I thought so," Astraea said, not unkindly. "Your barrier technique is impressive, but it's reactive rather than proactive. Good for long normal life but not for surviving." She tilted her head slightly. "And you don't have much knowledge about other Blessed beings, do you? Their abilities, their limitations, their place in the larger picture?"
"No," Carmilla admitted, her voice small and embarrassed. "I've been operating mostly in isolation, using my abilities for research and development rather than fieldwork. My understanding of the Blessed community is... limited."
"What a shame," Astraea said, though her tone carried no real judgment. "But anyway, I don't have much time. I need to go to Valenora."
The words hit the three women like physical blows. They stared at Astraea in shock, mouths opening slightly, eyes widening with disbelief and confusion.
"You know about it?" Eve asked, her voice rising with surprise. "You know about Valenora? And are you going for the Tree of Hope?"
Astraea paused, her expression becoming carefully neutral. Something flickered in her pale eyes calculation, maybe, or deception, or perhaps just caution about revealing too much. "Tree of Hope?" she repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. Then, after a moment that stretched just slightly too long, her face shifted into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Ahh, yes. Tree of Hope. Yeah, I'm going there too."
Carmilla's analytical mind immediately flagged the inconsistency. The pause had been too long, the smile too calculated, the confirmation too quick after initial confusion. *She's lying,* Carmilla thought with certainty. *Or at least not telling the complete truth. She knows about Valenora, that's genuine. But the Tree of Hope? That's not why she's going there. She has some other purpose, some other goal that she doesn't want to share.*
But Carmilla said nothing, her face maintaining a neutral expression even as her mind raced through implications and possibilities. There was no benefit to calling out the lie right now, not when they were stranded in the middle of the ocean, dependent on this woman's generosity for their survival.
Astraea looked at each of them in turn, her pale eyes assessing, judging, making calculations that none of them could follow. "Well then," she said finally, "we'll talk there. If you come alive, that is." The words could have been threatening, but her tone made them sound more like a simple statement of fact a acknowledgment that the journey ahead was dangerous and survival was far from guaranteed.
She moved to her motorcycle, which the ship's mechanical systems had already pulled aboard and secured. With smooth, practiced motions, she put her helmet back on, sealing herself inside the protective gear. The motorcycle's engine hummed to life, that same impossible sound it had made underwater, and mechanical arms began lowering it back toward the water.
"Well, now this bastard is going for the Tree of Hope too," Angela said, her voice still hoarse from nearly drowning but carrying clear frustration and suspicion. She'd finally gotten her breathing under control, but her eyes followed Astraea with obvious mistrust.
"Umm," Eve interjected softly, trying to be diplomatic, "I think you should be more appreciative of her. She did save all our lives. Without her intervention, we'd all be dead right now you drowned, Carmilla bled out, and me... well, I don't know what would have happened to me, but it wouldn't have been good."
"Appreciate my ass!" Angela snapped, her fear and shock transforming into anger because anger was easier to handle. "If anyone comes between me and getting my real body back, if anyone tries to reach the Tree before we do or interfere with our goal, I should kill them. I will kill them. I don't care who they are or what they've done for us."
Eve sensed the obsession in Angela's voice, the way it had sharpened and hardened, becoming something almost manic. It worried her. This wasn't healthy determination or justified urgency this was something darker, more desperate, more dangerous. But she also recognized that arguing with Angela when she was in this state would be pointless and possibly counterproductive.
"Okay," Eve said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, her voice carefully neutral. "Okay, I understand."
Astraea's motorcycle hit the water and immediately submerged, its engine sound fading as it descended into the depths. Within seconds, it was gone, leaving no trace except ripples on the surface that quickly faded.
The three women stood on the deck of the strange ship, exhausted and traumatized and alive against all odds, looking out at the empty ocean and contemplating the journey that still lay ahead.
Angela was shacost not from cold or fear, but from the sheer intensity of her determination mixed with the aftereffects of oxygen deprivation. Her synthetic body might have survived the drowning, but her biological brain had been affected, neurons firing erratically as they recovered from near-death.
Carmilla cradled the stump of her left hand, her blessed power working to close the wound and prevent infection, but the pain was still intense. She'd lost a lot of blood, and even with her enhanced healing, it would be days before she recovered fully. And the hand itself... that was gone forever. She'd need to get a prosthetic, probably something advanced given her resources, but she'd never have the original back.
Eve stood between them, her crimson eyes troubled, her synthetic mind processing everything that had happened and trying to make sense of it. The protective instinct she'd felt for Angela. The ease with which she'd killed those sharks. The strange woman who'd saved them and then left with cryptic warnings. The journey ahead to Valenora, where apparently even more complications awaited.