A guttural roar ripped through the Grand Exhibition Hall, not from the assembled crowd, but from the furious ocean itself. The canal wall, a massive edifice of reinforced granite and arcane seal-stones, didn't just crack; it disintegrated, exploding inward with the force of a battering ram. Tons of frigid, churning seawater, dark as pitch, surged into the hall, swallowing the ornamental fountains and toppling display pedestals as if they were children’s toys. Beatriz didn’t hesitate. The water was already past her knees, a violent surge threatening to sweep her off her feet. She grabbed Leandro’s arm, his own gaze fixed on the catastrophe. "The central ward-chamber! It's the only place they could have built a failsafe!" she shouted, her voice thin against the roar of the incoming tide. Leandro nodded, a grim line to his lips, and together they plunged into the deluge, fighting against a torrent that clawed at their clothes and threatened to pull them under. Furniture, decorative urns, and even entire display cases spun in the maelstrom, becoming dangerous projectiles. The air filled with the salty tang of the sea, mixed with the acrid scent of crumbling plaster and the fear-sweat of the trapped celebrants. Beatriz pushed forward, her prideful spirit igniting into a furious resolve. Not like this. Not after everything. She wouldn't let Ocellis drown, not when her own vengeance had just begun to bloom. They forced their way through the surging foam, their movements hampered by the crushing weight and the floating debris. The elegant chandeliers swayed precariously, reflecting distorted shards of light onto the turbulent surface. A frantic scream pierced the din. Julianna, her silk gown plastered to her skin, flailed toward the emergency skiff, a sleek vessel moored near a side entrance for quick evacuation. Her stare darted toward Beatriz’s personal craft, a custom-built hull designed for stability in rough waters. Julianna, seeing her chance, lunged for the mooring ropes. "Mine!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and utterly devoid of concern for anyone else. She fumbled with the knot, her fingers slick with seawater. Just as her hand closed around the polished wood of the vessel's prow, a massive wave, born from the initial collapse of the sea-wall, crested and broke directly over her. It wasn't a gentle swell; it was a hungry maw of water. The boat, still secured by its single, stubborn rope, tore free from its moorings, twisting violently. Julianna, caught in the sudden, savage undertow, screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror, as she was instantly dragged overboard. Her outstretched fingers slipped from the hull as she was pulled into the raging canals, a fleeting glimpse of emerald silk disappearing beneath the foam. The skiff, now free, was tossed like kindling down the flooded thoroughfare, leaving only the memory of her desperate cry. Beatriz went rigid. Not of satisfaction, not of triumph, but of stark finality. Julianna was gone, her petty cruelties swallowed by a far greater force. There was no time to process it. The water level was rising with alarming speed, already past their waists. Leandro pulled her towards a less turbulent channel, navigating around floating debris with a strength born of pure desperation. “The ward-chamber is through that archway!” he yelled, pointing to a grand, inlaid arch, now half-submerged. “It’s sealed, but….” “I can break it,” Beatriz finished, her mind already racing through scent-binding formulae. Her Vancorra blood, coursing with the magic of the sea, thrummed with a new, terrifying urgency. This wasn't about revenge anymore; it was about survival. They reached the arched entrance, a recessed alcove sheltering a small eddy in the otherwise furious rush. As Beatriz reached for a handhold, a dark shape detached itself from the shadows beneath the arch. Tavio. He was drenched, his usually disheveled hair plastered to his scalp, but his eyes burned with a cold, unwavering fury that belied his earlier manic laughter. In his hand, he held a blade, not of steel, but of solidified, shimmering tidal-resin, pulsing with an unnatural blue light. “Going somewhere, Vancorras?” Tavio sneered, his voice low and menacing, utterly devoid of any bumbling affectation. He moved with a horrifying grace, completely unlike his previous clumsy demeanor. He lunged, the tidal-resin blade whistling through the water. Leandro, ever vigilant, pushed Beatriz behind him, taking the brunt of the attack. The blade bit deep into his upper arm, a sickening *thwick* as the resin cut through flesh and muscle. Leandro gasped, a sharp, choked sound, but held his ground, his face pale but resolute. “Leandro!” Beatriz cried, reaching for him, but Tavio was already retreating, a cruel smile on his face. The wound on Leandro’s arm began to glow faintly with the same blue light as the blade, and he swayed, the drag of the tide threatening to pull him under. “The ward-chamber’s seal is more than just stone, Vancorra,” Tavio hissed, backing them against the fractured remains of the sea-wall, where the water churned most violently. “It requires a living essence to bind the breach. A sacrifice. And I’ve already chosen mine.” He gestured with the dripping blade, first at Leandro, then towards the gushing breach. “One soul, to save the many. A truly Vancorra choice, wouldn’t you say? Your lover, or your city.” Beatriz stopped short. The water around them boiled, the crumbling wall behind them groaning under the immense pressure of the surging ocean. Leandro, his face etched with pain, his arm bleeding a sickly blue-tinged ichor, met her gaze, his loyalty unwavering even in the face of such a horrific demand. She understood. The only way to bind the breach, to stop the ocean from consuming Ocellis entirely, was to offer a life. And Tavio meant Leandro's.

The Drowning Conservatoire