The briefing room was quieter than usual.

Alistair stood at the head of the table, a map spread out in front of him. The map showed the eastern coast, dotted with markers—some red, some blue, a few black. The red ones were Ashen Guard outposts. The blue ones were neutral zones. The black ones were places no one went anymore.

Lucian sat on one side, Cora on the other. Mason and Sera and Derek had been sent to other briefings, other assignments. The war was spreading, and Alistair was spreading his people thin.

Margie sat at the end of the table. She wasn’t in uniform—she was still Grey Hunter support, not field combat. But she was there, her hands flat on the wood, her eyes on the map.

Alistair spoke.

"We have a tip. The pendant—the one Voss stole, the one Valentine used to rally his coalition—was hidden before she was captured. Not on her. Not with her crew. Somewhere else." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Cora leaned forward. "Where?"

"An old Atlantean ruin off the eastern coast. The tip came from a source we trust."

Lucian looked at Alistair. "What source?"

"A Grey Hunter who owed me a favor. He’s dead now. The information cost him his life."

The room went still.

Alistair tapped the map. "The ruin is underwater. Accessible only through a submerged cave system. We have warded breathing masks—enough for three people."

Cora frowned. "Three?"

"The cave is narrow. Tight. A larger team would be slower, louder, more likely to trigger whatever defenses remain." Alistair looked at Lucian. "You’re going. Cora. And Margie."

Lucian’s eyes moved to his sister.

"No."

Margie’s jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"

"No. She’s not field combat. She’s support. This is a retrieval mission in a hostile environment. She stays."

Margie stood. "I’ve completed Grey Hunter training. I’ve passed every simulation. I handled the revenant in the warehouse."

"That was a warehouse. This is underwater, in an Atlantean ruin, with unknown defenses and possible hostiles." Lucian’s voice was calm, but there was steel under it. "You’re not ready."

"You don’t get to decide that."

"I’m team leader."

"Then lead. Don’t protect."

Cora looked between them. She didn’t speak. This wasn’t her fight.

Alistair watched.

Margie stepped closer to Lucian. Her voice dropped.

"I’ve spent months training. Months proving myself. To Margaret. To the Amazonians. To every hunter who looked at me and saw Valentine’s daughter." She held his gaze. "I am not going to sit here while you go after the pendant without me."

Lucian’s jaw tightened. "This isn’t about proving yourself."

"Yes, it is."

"No. It’s about keeping you alive."

"I’m not your responsibility."

"You’re my sister."

"That doesn’t make me your burden."

The words hung in the air.

Cora stood. "Both of you. Stop."

They looked at her.

Cora’s voice was flat. "Margie is on the mission. Alistair approved it. Lucian, you don’t have veto power. That’s the reality." She turned to Margie. "But if you freeze down there, if you hesitate, people die. Mine. His. Yours. Can you handle that?"

Margie met her eyes. "Yes."

"Then prove it."

Margie sat back down. Her hands were shaking, but her face was steady.

Lucian looked at Alistair. "Other teams?"

"Two others. One to the north, one to the south. Decoys. If Valentine has spies, they’ll split their attention." Alistair folded the map. "You leave in an hour. Gear up."

---

The eastern coast was grey and cold.

The water was dark, the waves choppy, the sky low with clouds. The van stopped at a rocky beach, miles from any town. No lights. No roads. No witnesses.

The warded breathing masks looked like normal dive gear, but the crystals embedded in the mouthpiece glowed faintly. They would filter water into air, protect against pressure, and keep the wearer from being detected by supernatural senses.

Lucian checked his twin blades. They were wrapped in oilcloth, sealed against saltwater. Cora tested her phase in the shallows—it worked, but slower, heavier. Margie carried a short sword and a small crossbow, her Amazonian training evident in her stance.

"The cave entrance is fifty meters out," Lucian said. "We swim to it, go through, and surface on the other side. The ruin is beyond."

Cora secured her mask. "How deep?"

"Deep enough."

Margie pulled on her mask. "Let’s go."

---

The water was cold.

Lucian dove first, his body cutting through the waves. Cora followed, her phase flickering as she adjusted to the pressure. Margie came last, her strokes strong, controlled.

The cave entrance was a dark maw in the rock face, barely visible in the murk. Lucian swam toward it, his hand on the hilt of his blade.

Inside, the passage narrowed. The walls were rough, covered in barnacles and something that glowed faintly green. The light was wrong—too steady, too deliberate.

Cora touched Lucian’s shoulder. Pointed.

The glow was coming from symbols carved into the stone. Old. Atlantean. Warnings.

Lucian swam past them.

The passage opened into a larger chamber. Air. They surfaced, pulling off their masks, breathing in stale, cold oxygen.

The ruin was ancient.

Columns rose from the floor, carved with sea creatures and scenes of war. A path led deeper, lined with statues of Atlantean warriors, their faces eroded by centuries of water and time.

Margie looked around. "This place feels... heavy."

"It’s old," Cora said. "Older than the Veil."

Lucian walked ahead. His boots echoed on the stone.

The pendant was there.

It floated in a column of light at the end of the path, suspended above an altar carved with runes. The light pulsed, slow, like a heartbeat.

Margie stepped forward.

"Don’t," Lucian said.

"I’m just looking."

"The pendant is warded. Touch it, and the ruin will collapse."

"How do you know?"

"Because that’s what I would do."

Cora moved to the side, checking for traps. "He’s right. There are pressure plates in the floor. Thermal sensors in the walls. This place was designed to kill."

Margie looked at Lucian. "Then how do we get it?"

Lucian studied the altar. The runes were a puzzle—a locking mechanism, old but not impossible.

"I need time."

"Then take it."