A geyser of boiling thermal brine erupted two hundred feet into the storm-choked night.
Riding the crest of the water column, Kaelen Vance stepped lightly onto the shattered deck of the Sanctuary command barge. His cork sandals landed on the wet planks with a soft, hollow click.
The deck was an absolute slaughterhouse of twisted iron and burning timber.
Of the six colossal Star-Breaker barges that had ruled the waves minutes ago, three were already resting at the bottom of the trench.
The remaining three were burning hulls, their central masts sheared away by their own reflected anchors.
Thick black smoke rolled across the water, carrying the sharp stink of scorched pitch and melting bronze.
Chief Array-Master Solis leaned heavily against the remains of his celestial dais, clutching his broken ribs with blood-stained fingers.
Behind him, fifty surviving array-disciples stood frozen in horror. Their robes were singed, their iron staves trembled in their hands, and their eyes bulged as they stared at the solitary youth in the gray bathrobe.
