The central spindle of the Primordial Ark rose through the liquid aether like a huge mountain of black dark rock, forty arm-lengths in width, its upright surface fluted with ancient high-pressure grooves that channeled the vital breath flow of the lower keel.
At fourteen thousand deep-water lengths below the volcano bowl rim, the surrounding fluid had deepened into a dense, midnight-blue medium that resisted their strokes like warm, clarified honey. The deep water pressure here exceeded six mountain-crushing pressure, pressing against Qiao Ming’s bare skin with the crushing, unmoving weight of an entire mountain range. His oilskin coat, impregnated through fifty seasons of sounding with sheep fat and dried sea-salt, had been compacted by the huge depth until its fabric was dense as boiled leather plate. His bare calloused feet, toughened by decades of pacing granite wharves and jagged coral heads, moved through the thick, sticky fluid with slow, measured surges of his heavy calf muscles. Every tendon in his heels held the bottom with gut nautical balance.
Beside them, the huge granite avatar of Sovereign Cang Hai stepped onto the main mooring ledge of the spindle.
The ledge was a massive eight-sided shelf of dressed dark rock, thirty arm-lengths across and six arm-lengths thick. It projected horizontally from the upright flank of the pillar. The moment the titan’s sixty-arm-length granite feet settled upon the shelf, the entire spindle groaned under the sudden transfer of ballast. The ancient stone titan did not pause to rest. Its white jade eyes blazed…
