Alan stepped back from the door, her eyes searching its surface and the surrounding walls, looking for anything that might grant them entry. 

A glint of metal caught her eye. 

A switch. 

She turned toward Francis, seeking approval. Once he gave a nod, she reached for the switch and, hesitating only for a fraction of a second, flicked it. The door hissed softly as it slid sideways, vanishing seamlessly into the wall, and we stepped through the opening. 

A blue beam of light streaked past, grazing Francis’s jaw and scorching the tips of his black beard before striking the closing door behind us, showering us with a cascade of sparks. Francis’s face turned ashen, his body frozen in place, caught in the grip of shock. 

Before he could become an easy target, Alan wasted no time—her hand shot out, gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him forward, forcing him to duck and take shelter behind a large, solid circular table carved from something that gleamed like polished onyx. 

I bolted to the nearest metal column, pressing my side against its cool surface before daring to peek out around its edge, scanning frantically for the shooter.

On the far side of the room, slumped against a long, curved control panel, lay a man in a dark blue metallic suit. One arm trembled as it struggled to aim a gun, while the other hand clutched his side, where dark blood seeped through a jagged tear, pooling around him. His pale, slimy and hairless complexion was distorted: his swollen lips drooling, his bloated cheeks sagging, and his bloodshot eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

The gun wavered in his weakening grip, and when he attempted another shot, his arm gave out. The weapon slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor as his body slumped sideways, motionless.

We didn’t move a muscle, each of us waiting in uneasy silence for any sign of another shooter. When no sound came and no figure emerged, I dared to move first. Slipping away from the column, I crept toward the fallen body, my paws padding softly across the floor. My nose wrinkled as I sniffed the thick pool of blood surrounding it.

Human, but not entirely. There was something else—a sour, briny smell. It reminded me of the aroma that wafted through the air when I strolled past the fish market vendors on Old Rig.

My nose twitched, and my whiskers tingled as I continued to investigate. Nearby, I found another body, also clad in a metallic suit. It lay face down, its head surrounded by blood. Leaning closer, I saw where the blood was spilling from—a ragged wound in its neck. Then I noticed something protruding from its mouth: a blob of flesh-like tendrils.

I hissed, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. My ears flattened, and my body tensed as I backed away, fur bristling and tail lashing. My eyes stayed locked on the tendrils, unease clawing at me. What if it wasn’t truly dead? What if it still squirmed inside the corpse, waiting for the right moment to strike?

From the state of the room, it was clear a fight had taken place between these strange humanoids. The walls were peppered with small holes. The control panel was damaged, its surface scorched and cracked, and wires jutted out in tangled clumps.

There had to be more of these humanoids somewhere on this massive submarine. The question was…where? 

I sprang onto a chair, then leaped onto the control panel, sniffing cautiously at the cracked buttons and sputtering switches. Their faint, erratic flickers danced like nervous fireflies.

Francis emerged slowly from behind the round table, straightened, and approached me. He gave me a quick scratch behind the ears before scooping me up with one arm.

“Page, don’t touch anything,” he chided gently, then set me down on the smooth, black stone table and turned his attention to the first body.

He knelt beside the lifeless form, studying it  before picking up the gun lying next to it. The weapon had a sleek black body with neon blue accents tracing its edges. Its barrel emitted a soft glow from an energy core visible through a transparent chamber, where plasma-like energy swirled and pulsed.

Moving to the second corpse, his expression contorted in disgust as he noticed the tendrils protruding from its mouth.

“What the hell happened to their faces?” he asked, the question more for himself than anyone else.

Alan stood and moved around the table for a better look at the body. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

Francis blinked in surprise. “You have?”

Alan nodded grimly. “The apothecary owner; the one who sold Sarah Kelping the poison. When Page tore his mask off, his face and tongue ballooned in exactly the same way.”

Francis’s expression darkened, fear flickering in his eyes. He inhaled sharply as he began connecting a series of invisible dots.

“What is it?” Alan pressed, sensing his apprehension.

“They're not human.. they just couldn't be,” Francis said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And if they're not human, then what are we dealing with? Just look at this place!”

He gestured to the cavernous room around them, its incredible machinery humming faintly, glowing white and blue. 

“Where did all of this come from?” he continued. “I’ve never seen technology like this. I don’t think past generations even had anything like this before the Great Wrath. And after the apocalypse, we’ve barely managed to rebuild even the simplest tools.”

“Then it means we’ve never been alone on this planet,” Alan said with a mix of wonder and dread. “Not above us or beside us, but buried deep in the ocean. And now, finally, their existence is breaking the surface for us to see.”

As I padded across the table, my paws brushed against its dark, glassy surface, landing on a strange symbol of four interlocking squares. A faint hum began to reverberate through the air, growing steadily louder.  

I froze. My tail shot up, rigid as a rod. My ears twitched and my whiskers bristled with an electric tension.

“Page! Didn’t I tell you not to touch anything?” Francis growled. “I—” He fell silent, his words swallowed by the incredible scene unveiling overhead.