Chapter 105: The Descent into the Trench

  The logistics of getting the four-hundred-pound Abyssal Carapace out of Barnaby's cluttered workshop and onto a deep-water salvage vessel required a massive amount of physical effort and a significant portion of their remaining silver. They chartered a small, highly specialized Sirenian diving bell—a sleek, enclosed wooden submarine designed strictly for dropping heavy cargo into the deep zones.

  Zeno didn't wear the colossal bio-magical suit during the boat ride. It sat immobile in the center of the cramped submarine cabin, looking like a sleeping, heavily armored golem made of bone and thick cartilage. Zeno sat next to it, his massive hands resting on his knees, his amber eyes staring intently at the petrified squid-eye viewport. He was unnervingly quiet, lacking his usual cheerful chatter.

  Lyra sat across from him, meticulously checking the seals on her own, significantly lighter pressure suit. It wouldn't allow her to reach the bottom of the trench, but it would protect her during the initial descent to the drop-off point. She watched Zeno’s uncharacteristic silence with deep concern. She knew the boy thrived in open spaces—jungles, deserts, even chaotic cities. The prospect of being sealed within a heavy bone shell and cut off from the world above was actively terrifying him.

  "It's just a very deep basement, Zeno," Lyra said softly, her voice echoing in the small wooden cabin. "You've been in dark places before."

  Zeno slowly turned his gaze away from the Carapace, meeting her eyes.

  "The basement in the ruined city didn't have the ocean trying to crush the walls, Lyra," Zeno replied, his voice a low, heavy rumble. "And I could always punch my way back out of the basement if I needed to. I cannot punch the ocean. It is vastly too big."

  "You don't have to punch the ocean," Lyra assured him, leaning forward and placing a reassuring hand on his dark-wrapped forearm. "You just have to trust Barnaby's engineering, and you have to trust your own strength to walk across the bottom. You are the only person on this continent capable of making this specific descent. You are the sledgehammer. And the sledgehammer does not break under pressure."

  Zeno looked down at her hand, and then back to her face. He took a massive, deep breath, forcing the lingering, cold knot of claustrophobic fear down into his stomach. He offered a small, brave, forced smile.

  "I will not break," Zeno promised, his voice regaining a fraction of its solid confidence. "I will find the First Era forge, and I will see if they left any big hammers behind."

  The pilot of the diving bell, a seasoned Sirenian navigator, cut the engines.

  "We have reached the coordinates, Vanguards," the pilot announced grimly, pointing to a glowing depth-gauge. "We are hovering above the center of the Blind Whale's Trench. I am beginning the immediate descent to the drop-off shelf."

  The wooden submarine began to sink rapidly. The vibrant, crystalline turquoise light of the Sirena shallows faded, quickly replaced by a deep, beautiful sapphire blue, which slowly, agonizingly darkened into suffocating pitch-black. The only illumination came from the faint, sickly green glow of the bioluminescent algae lining the interior of the diving bell.

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  They descended for what felt like hours. The sheer, overwhelming silence of the deep ocean pressed against the thick wooden hull, a physical weight that made Lyra’s ears ring painfully despite the pressurized cabin.

  Finally, with a soft, muffled thud, the submarine settled onto a relatively flat underwater shelf.

  "This is the limit of my vessel," the pilot stated, his voice tight with genuine tension. "We are two miles deep. The actual bottom of the trench is still another mile straight down from this ledge. The pressure outside is lethal to anything not heavily enchanted or biologically adapted."

  Lyra stood up, engaging the heavy seals on her lightweight pressure suit. "Help him into the Carapace."

  Zeno stood, shedding his dark red Crimson Spider-Silk tunic and his heavy leather pants, standing in his thick undergarments. He ignored the freezing temperature of the cabin.

  With Lyra and the pilot's combined, straining effort, they helped the massive boy physically slide backward into the open, hollow back of the colossal Abyssal Carapace.

  The moment Zeno’s heavy frame settled into the thick, alchemically treated shark-cartilage joints, the bio-magical suit reacted. The glowing, specialized abyssal algae lining the interior instantly flared to life, illuminating Zeno’s face through the thick, petrified squid-eye viewport with a bright, soothing green light. The suit hissed loudly, adjusting to his massive physical dimensions. The internal pressure seals actively locked into place with heavy, final clicks.

  Zeno tested the movement. He raised his massive, heavily armored arm. The thick cartilage joints whined under the incredible strain, but the suit mimicked his movement flawlessly.

  "It is incredibly tight," Zeno’s voice echoed through the internal speaking tube, sounding slightly distorted and highly metallic. "It feels exactly like wearing a very heavy, stiff turtle shell."

  "It has to be tight to withstand the pressure, Zeno," Lyra reminded him, checking the heavy iron latches securing the back of the suit. "Are you getting enough air?"

  Zeno took a deep, heavy breath, the glowing algae visibly pulsing in response to his exhalation. "The air tastes like old seaweed, but there is plenty of it."

  "Good," Lyra nodded, satisfied with the seals. She stepped around to the front of the massive, terrifying suit, looking through the thick glass lens into Zeno’s amber eyes.

  "You have exactly twelve hours of breathable air, Zeno," Lyra stated firmly, her tactical mind overriding her deep, personal concern. "Follow the steep decline from this shelf straight down. When you find the ancient forge, secure whatever valuable salvage you can carry, and walk straight back up the slope. I will be waiting right here in the submarine for you."

  The pilot engaged the heavy, highly pressurized airlock mechanism.

  Lyra stepped back, watching as the massive iron floor hatch slowly groaned open, revealing the absolute, freezing, terrifying pitch-black abyss waiting directly below.

  Zeno stood on the precipice. He didn't just step blindly into the void. For a fleeting second, the terrifying reality of the abyss seized him. The broad shoulders of the massive bone suit shuddered slightly. He stared down at the black rubber ring of the open hatch, viewing it like the gaping maw of a starving leviathan waiting to swallow him whole.

  He slowly turned his heavy, domed helmet back toward Lyra. He raised his massive, articulated claw of a hand and offered a slow, stiff wave through the thick glass.

  He took a massive, shuddering breath, the green algae inside his helmet flaring brilliantly.

  "Okay, ocean," Zeno whispered, his voice trembling slightly but laced with an unyielding, stubborn resolve. "I am coming down there to punch you. And Lyra... please promise me you will have a very large plate of hot, spicy apples waiting when I float back up."

  "I promise, sledgehammer," Lyra vowed, pressing her gloved hand against the glass viewport.

  Zeno didn't hesitate any longer. He stepped forward, dropping his four-hundred-pound, bio-magical frame through the open hatch and straight into the crushing darkness of the Blind Whale's Trench.