The green surface of Kaelen Vance’s morning jasmine tea rippled in perfect concentric rings.
A low, rhythmic vibration hummed through the granite floorboards of the pavilion. It did not sound like thunder, nor did it carry the sharp crackle of lightning.
It was an acoustic hum, deep and pervasive, rising directly through the island’s subterranean water table.
Kaelen lay in his hammock with his straw hat tilted over his eyes. He reached out with one lazy hand, picked up his porcelain teacup, and took a small sip.
The liquid buzzed against his teeth like trapped hornets.
“Deacon Vane,” Kaelen said without moving his head. “Why is my breakfast tea vibrating?”
“Young Master,” Deacon Vane replied from the doorway, his voice trembling with sheer agitation. “The Blood-Star Sanctuary has deployed their acoustic siege fleet. Twenty vessels dropped anchor three miles south at dawn.”
Kaelen let out a slow, irritated breath.
