‘Welcome back, Admiral.’

Major Dimuri snaps to attention as Admiral Singh descends the ramp of the transport barge. Temera briskly returns the salute after stepping onto the landing platform. She raises a hand to shield herself from the wind—a biting gust carrying cold air from the Storhvit—or rather, from Caer Nilam, as she should now say.

‘What’s the news?’, she asks without ceremony.

‘We’ve continued with the topographic surveys. We confirm the existence of an underground city, built across multiple levels.’

The Admiral nods.

‘Then let’s not waste any time. Take me to the helm.’

‘If I may: we took the liberty of assembling the senior staff on the lower deck to give you a full briefing.’

‘Very well. Lead the way, then.’

Battling against the wind, her coat snapping in the gusts, Admiral Singh sets off, escorted by the Major and two Tagmata soldiers. She was glad she'd kept her lined overcoat—though the climate was milder than under the Cais Adarra, the air remained chilly, especially at this altitude.

Placing a gloved hand on the railing, Temera looks anxiously toward the horizon and the iridescent plumes of the Tumult swirling perhaps fifty miles away. Even from here, she can sense the fury of the currents shredding the moorlands. A hill disappears before her eyes, swept away as if by a cyclone. Though details are hard to make out, she sees mountains rising, breaking apart… So much destruction...

‘I assume the Yzmir Augurs are still monitoring the Tumult’s edge?’

Major Dimuri nods.

‘We would be informed immediately if it shifts.’

Still gripping the railing, she descends a series of metal stairs and moves through a complex network of windy passageways. Even after months aboard, the Ouroboros’ chaotic layout remains unfamiliar. She would’ve been hopelessly lost without her escort. She sidesteps a pile of droppings.

‘My apologies, Admiral. I’ll have a recruit sent to clean up this mess.’

Such nuisances would persist as long as the martengales continued to follow the ship. But the fact that they had stayed could be seen as a good omen.

‘I’d like a status report. Thorough, if you can.’

The Major turns to her.

‘In writing, Admiral?’

‘Verbal for now, if you please.’

‘Of course, Admiral. Kelonic generator output nominal—we remain within the Oorschott diagram limits. No major damage; repairs are underway. We had to stop in Sector Seven to resupply water, and decontamination—biological, chemical, and aetheric—went smoothly. During the seven-hour stop, Commodore Nagaya authorized a landing of specialists to collect samples for the Yzmir mages and Axiom lab techs. General de Graaf used the opportunity to deploy a small team to gather provisions. We’ve been stationed above the current landmark for seventy-two hours and are continuing to gather data. General Sekifu has expressly forbidden any descent until preliminary analysis is complete.’

‘And rightly so. How's troop morale?’

‘High. We've been running on a reduced crew to allow most teams some leave’, he continues. ‘There were two fights and three people detained. Other than that, nothing to report.’

Dimuri grabs a hatch handle and opens it for her. She steps through. As the door closes behind her, Temera exhales in relief. She removes her gloves and tosses them onto the couch, then unbuttons her coat. The Major assists, folding the garment neatly over the back of a chair, while she adjusts her uniform and her hair, both tousled by the swirling winds.

‘What do you think? Do I look presentable?’

The officer nods in affirmation.

‘Perfectly so, Admiral.’

‘Good. Then let’s proceed.’

She exhales briskly and opens a second door, leaving the quiet comfort of her private quarters and stepping into the bustle of the lower deck.

‘Officer on deck!’, an ensign suddenly shouts.

Everyone snaps to attention, boots clicking.

‘Carry on’, the Admiral replies simply.

As the bridge returns to life, Commodore Jeanty approaches, chest puffed out more than necessary.

‘We missed you, Admiral.’

‘Feels like I made it back just in time for the festivities.’

‘We wouldn’t have started without you, Admiral.’

‘I should hope not.’

Jin-Hee Jeanty cracks a nearly smug smile, then gestures with his chin toward the large viewing window, still bearing some cracks from the Kraken encounter.

‘May I present the Crow’s Eye, as we’ve decided to call it.’

Temera turns toward the anomaly.

‘An ancient singularity?’

Jeanty shakes his head.

‘We don’t believe so. It looks man-made—or rather, shaped by someone or something.’

Before her, a pastoral landscape sprawls within what resembles a massive, perfectly circular crater. Even from several hundred meters up, Temera can make out the concentric layout of streets and districts encircling a central chasm. It’s arranged in coaxial terraces, each one hosting numerous ruined buildings now overgrown with vegetation. How many people had once lived here? Fifty, or a hundred thousand?

‘What you’re seeing is only the surface. Our preliminary scans indicate that the city continues far underground. This isn’t just an outpost—it’s a full metropolis.’

‘Any signs of life?’

‘Not a soul. If this city once thrived, it must have been abandoned long ago.’

‘And we don’t know why, I assume.’

Jeanty shrugs.

‘The Tumult? A cataclysm? We’ve determined that at some point, the outer districts were struck by a powerful blast.’

‘From which direction?’

‘From the Cais Adarra, Admiral.’

Was it the same tsunami that had struck Asgartha? Likely, if the shockwave had been concentric. But without dating, nothing could be confirmed.

‘We’ve deployed about forty probes to map the city’s depths. Almost all have returned. We’ve got good visibility on the upper levels…’

‘How many levels are there in total?’

The Commodore hesitates a moment.

‘We can’t say for sure, Admiral.’

‘I see.’

But Jeanty quickly regains his confidence, even flashing a full-toothed smile.

‘This is undoubtedly the City of Scholars. I’d bet my hand on it. If so, we’ve reached the first milestone of our journey, Admiral. Just beneath us lie the clues that will lead us to the source of the Tumult. Congratulations are in order.’

Normally, Temera disliked premature conclusions, but as she gazed down at the city, the idea didn’t seem far-fetched—even if she would’ve preferred to deflate her subordinate’s puffed-up pride.

‘Let’s hold off before raising false hopes at the Asterion, shall we?’

Jin-Hee tilts his head respectfully.

‘Who's in charge of data recovery?’

‘Jubal Okech, under the oversight of Leocardius Sree.’

Admiral Singh turns to Dimuri.

‘Okech? Abiram’s brother? Very well. Send a runner with a message to Jubal, and if you could invoke Alteration to summon Sree…’

‘Certainly, Admiral.’

She resumes gazing into the black eye now directly beneath them. The Ouroboros has positioned itself vertically above the gaping maw. Through the observation bay, the abyss appears as a dark blotch against the lush green of the crater. She still can’t see the bottom. A strange, unpleasant feeling creeps over her—as if something is staring back. As though the earth itself is watching her. She blinks, finding it difficult to hold its gaze, and finally looks away.

‘I believe we’re ready for a ground expedition, Admiral’, Jeanty adds.

‘We’ll wait for the Exalts to arrive. Who knows what lies below. I won’t risk the entire odyssey on reckless haste. It’s only a matter of days, and we can use the time for surface investigations.’

Jeanty clicks his tongue.

‘A shame. Perhaps we should set up a surface encampment? At least to prepare for descent?’

‘That’s a wise suggestion. You’ll lead the effort. You’ll personally supervise and coordinate the construction of the outpost.’

Jeanty frowns. Not exactly the kind of honor he’d hoped for.

‘Right away, Admiral.’

He spins on his heel with a sharp snap of his boots against the floor as he takes his leave. There's a touch of anger in his stride—resentment at having been put in his place—but Temera dismisses it quickly. She had far more pressing matters to deal with than one officer’s bruised pride: securing supply lines from the Peninsula, for instance, or figuring out a way to retrieve the exploration forces still deployed in the Storhvit…

‘You summoned me, Admiral?’

She turns calmly toward the voice—gruff and uncompromising. Before her stands a stocky man with his arms folded across his chest. Yes, he’s the spitting image of his twin brother. But where Abiram moves with measured grace, this Jubal is his opposite. He’s nervously chewing on a toothpick, though not because her presence intimidates him. No—he’s simmering with restrained energy.

‘Looking forward to getting started on the city excavation, I take it?’

‘As soon as you give the order, Admiral.’

His tone sounds more like a reproach than respect. There's impatience in his voice, clear frustration in his posture. He looks more like a pirate than a lead excavator.

‘You'll get what you want soon enough, I assure you.’

Jubal flashes a smile that borders on menacing. He’s clearly nothing like his brother, with whom she'd exchanged pleasantries during the more refined gatherings at the Asterion.

‘Did you know I’ve met your brother?’

‘Ha!’, he barks, offering no elaboration.

‘You two seem to have chosen very different paths.’

‘You’d be wrong about that, Admiral. We’re a perfect team. He dissects trinkets. I bring them to him.’

‘An Ordis historian and a Bravos relic hunter?’

He shrugs.

‘Everyone’s got their niche. Doesn’t mean we don’t work well together.’

Temera allows herself a faint smile.

‘With your brother absent, you’ll be working alongside Leocardius Sree. You’ll handle the excavation, he’ll take care of the analysis.’

‘That’s what I gathered. I’ll pull up whatever looks promising. It’s up to him to figure out if it’s worth anything.’

He hesitates a moment.

‘And what about the things that aren’t of direct interest to your operation?’

‘Are you hoping to pocket a little profit from this endeavor?’

‘A few extra Florets never hurt.’

‘Is that your motivation in all this?’

‘I’m doing it because I want to be the one who finds the treasures. I want to leave my mark. I want people to say: Jubal Okech brought those back.’

‘I see. But I can’t reserve all the glory of these missions just for you. No matter how broad your shoulders, they’re not wide enough to carry the weight of this operation alone.’

A nervous tic flickers at the corner of Jubal’s eye.

‘Have I offended you?’

But Jubal only smiles wider.

‘Not at all. It’s more satisfying when there’s competition.’

As Leocardius Sree’s figure approaches from down the corridor, Temera turns to greet him with a satisfied smile. The Eidolon has taken on the form he wore in his youth—when he was still an archaeologist, not the rector of the Sanctum. Still, she keeps her eyes fixed on the Bravos adventurer, gauging him with a deliberate stare.

‘Be ready, Okech. As soon as the preliminary analyses are complete, it’ll be your turn to jump into the lion’s den.’

Jubal turns on his heel without another word, a smug grin on his face, striding toward the exit like a wound-up clock.

‘Don’t worry about me’, he tosses over his shoulder. ‘I was born ready.’