The descent into the Sunken Cathedral was not a swim, but a plunge into a pressurized tomb of obsidian water and ancient, salt-encrusted memories. As the Ember Spark crossed the threshold of the submerged archway, the world above—the shrieking Echo-Leeches and the grey mist of the marshes—was replaced by a crushing, absolute darkness.
"Elara, now!" Kaelen's voice was a muffled vibration through the water.
Elara slammed her staff against the marble floor of the flooded foyer. A shimmering, translucent sphere of air erupted around the party, held together by the sheer force of her will. "I can't... hold this forever," she gasped, her voice echoing strangely within the bubble. "The pressure down here is unnatural. It's not just the water; the temple itself is trying to squeeze the air out of us."
"We move fast," Ria commanded, her spear held ready.
The cathedral was a masterpiece of architectural despair. Massive vaulted ceilings were covered in barnacles that glowed with a faint, bioluminescent rot. Statues of faceless saints stood in the alcoves, their stone features eroded by centuries of salt-water into haunting, skeletal masks. The floor was covered in a foot of silt that stirred with every step, revealing the rusted remains of pilgrims who had failed the cathedral's trials.
As they reached the central nave, the water began to churn. The Scepter of the Unspoken in Kaelen's hand flared with a violent violet light, illuminating the guardian that had been waiting for them in the depths.
It was a Salt-Bound Behemoth—a construct made from the fused armor of fallen Wardens and the calcified bones of sea-serpents. It stood fifteen feet tall, its movements surprisingly fluid despite its massive weight. In its right hand, it held a rusted anchor-chain that hummed with the same "Silence" frequency Kaelen had used earlier.
"It's a reflection!" Pip yelled, his voice squeaky with terror as he clung to Korg's harness. "The temple is using our own Echo against us! Kaelen, that thing is a mirror of your 'Stillness'!"
The Behemoth lunged. The anchor-chain whistled through the water, shattering the marble pillar behind Korg. The shockwave of the impact sent a tremor through Elara's air-bubble, causing the walls of the sphere to ripple and thin.
"Korg, keep the bubble stable!" Kaelen roared. "I'm taking the center!"
Kaelen didn't use the scepter as a club. He knew he couldn't out-muscle a creature that was literally part of the temple. He reached deep into the Obsidian-Jade Graft of his arm. The black glass was now crawling with emerald veins that pulsed in time with his racing heart.
"THE WATER IS A CONDUCTOR, ECHO," Ignis rumbled, the dragon's voice sounding like a grinding tectonic plate. "IF YOU CANNOT BURN IT, BECOME THE STING. THE IRON IN THE SALT... USE THE GROUNDING."
Kaelen closed his eyes, letting the Behemoth's next strike come. He didn't dodge. He caught the anchor-chain with his obsidian hand. The "Silence" frequency of the chain tried to paralyze his arm, but Kaelen didn't fight it. He Inverted the Siphon.
He drew the cold, pressurized mana of the cathedral through his arm and channeled it into his "Expansion" core. He didn't let it turn to fire. He kept it as raw, kinetic friction.
"Kaelen, what are you doing?" Ria screamed as the air-bubble began to steam.
Kaelen's arm began to glow a blinding, electric white. The salt in the water around his fist began to undergo rapid electrolysis. Thousands of tiny bubbles of hydrogen and oxygen gas erupted from his scales, turning the water into a frothing, explosive slurry.
"Thermal... Discharge!"
He didn't hit the Behemoth. He released the built-up kinetic friction into the water itself. A localized "Steam Explosion" detonated between him and the construct. The force sent the Behemoth reeling back into the altar, its salt-calcified armor cracking under the sudden pressure change.
But the explosion had a cost. The air-bubble shattered.
For a terrifying heartbeat, the party was plunged into the freezing, lightless depths. Kaelen felt the salt-water rush into his lungs, the pressure trying to collapse his ribs. But then, a new sensation took over. The Scepter of the Unspoken pulled him toward the altar—not as a victim, but as a master.
He found himself standing before the Lens of the Unseen.
It was a massive, floating orb of smoked crystal, held in place by three silver claws. Inside the orb, a single, unblinking eye of violet fire stared back at him. As Kaelen's hand touched the crystal, his mind was ripped away from the cathedral.
He saw Oakhaven, not as a city, but as a series of heat-signatures. He saw the Gilded Lilies' camp in the marshes. He saw the Silent King, standing atop a mountain of white ash, looking directly into the Lens.
"YOU ARE LATE, ASH-WALKER," the King's voice whispered in his soul. "THE BODY IS ALREADY BREATHING."
Kaelen screamed, but instead of water, a torrent of violet light erupted from his mouth. He didn't just take the Lens; he absorbed its Echo. The smoked crystal shattered, and the violet eye moved from the orb to Kaelen's own forehead, manifesting as a third, ethereal eye that flickered with the "Unseen" sight.
The Behemoth collapsed into a pile of rusted junk and salt. The cathedral began to groan, the magic holding the roof together failing with the loss of its relic.
"Elara! Sissik!" Kaelen's voice now carried a telepathic weight. He reached out with his obsidian hand and grabbed his friends, his new "Unseen" sight showing him the exact structural weaknesses of the collapsing ceiling.
With a final, desperate surge of "Expansion" energy, he didn't swim; he propelled them upward like a torpedo. They burst through the surface of the salt-pool, tumbling onto the white crust just as the marble spire of the cathedral sank forever into the muck.
The Echo-Leeches were gone, scared away by the massive discharge of violet energy. The marshes were silent once more, but the air felt lighter.
"Did... did we get it?" Pip wheezed, coughing up briny water.
Kaelen stood up. He looked at his reflection in a pool of dark water. The emerald-orange eyes were still there, but above them, a faint, violet slit remained—the Lens of the Unseen. He could see the "Echo-Trails" of everything around him. He saw the mana-veins in Sissik's staff. He saw the hidden, anxious thoughts flickering in Ria's mind.
"I have the sight," Kaelen said, his voice flat. He looked at the Scepter of the Unspoken, which was now glowing with the power of three relics. "And I can see where the King is hiding. He's not in the temples anymore. He's moved to the Great Divide."
"The Great Divide?" Sissik's frills turned a pale, terrified yellow. "That is the scar across the world. No one survives the winds there."
"We will," Kaelen said. He turned to his Company. They were bruised, wet, and exhausted, but they were the strongest force in the Borderlands. "We have the Scepter, the Regulator, and the Lens. We only need two more. And I think the King is tired of waiting."
The "Salt-Marsh" arc was over. The Ember Spark had survived the depths, but Kaelen was no longer entirely human. He was a mosaic of the world's calamities, and the final war was finally in sight.