Aurelion?Flash reached out.
Flash. It’s good to hear your voice.
Yours too. All is stable?
Yes, for now.
We have questions.
I will answer them to the best of my ability.
What was that place we fell into at the hotel?
A Veil bubble Chaos deliberately forged. He set a trap, and we had no choice but to spring it. I wish I could have given you warning, but I didn’t detect his intent until it was too late. Three of the outer wards have been disabled allowing him to gain strength.
The entities?
Assassins. Call them what they are. Null type, sucking meaning and purpose out of a target to disable, and Rupture type, designed to destroy stabilization. He was specifically there for you, North. I am impressed by your abilities, can only be regretful for how you both were put into this situation. You wish to move forward with the ritual?
Fly responded.With all due respect, we are, but we expect?—
All will be well. You will have choices. I promise you. Are you ready to embark?
Fly and North answered together.We are.
Then prepare. I will draw you into a neutral space. Your bodies must be monitored.
I will do that, Aurelion.Twister responded.
Yes, of course, the healer. Once you transform, Shane, you will be formidable. Your spirit is strong, steadfast.There was a soft murmur and Aurelion quieted them.Let us know when you’re ready.
* * *
The beach stretchedempty before them, moonlight painting the waves silver as they crashed against the Virginia shore. Fly followed Flash down the sandy path, the familiar salt tang filling his lungs as they moved away from the lights of the base toward a stretch of coastline that belonged to the night and the SEALs who claimed it.
This felt right. Water had made them what they were, from the Naked Warriors to the teams. Every SEAL who came before had stood on beaches like this, been broken and rebuilt by salt and surf and the endless rhythm of waves that didn't care about human weakness. They had arrived here as individuals and left as brothers. A whole fucking network of men who would die for each other.
He could smell the wind and the surf of Bells Beach, the Gold Coast, Margaret River, and countless other surfing venues. His memory never let him forget the weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder. He had grown up in water, learned to surf almost before he could walk. Grief settled in his chest at the memory of how Chaos had changed his perception of reality. He’d taken all the skill, the hours and hours of experience, and tried to makethem all meaningless, not only his mastery, but the trident that was now fractured.
That wasn’t going to goddamn happen. Not while he drew breath.
North walked beside him, solid and steady as bedrock. Through their bond, Fly could sense his friend's quiet resolve, but underneath it, a deeper current of grief that Fly recognized and didn’t want to name. He thought they had dealt with her death…with Mei, but grief wasn’t predictable. That emotion had more in common with Chaos.
"Here," Flash said, stopping where the dunes gave way to hard-packed sand. The ocean spread endlessly before them, infinite and humbling.
Fly nodded, understanding flooding through him. "This is where life began from the primordial soup. This is where every generation of frogmen found their brotherhood."
“Get comfortable,” Twister said, unrolling two large beach towels. Fly folded down on one of them and North on the other. Their eyes met briefly, and Fly nodded at the message there.Together.
Flash closed his eyes, and Fly’s rational mind would have rejected this before he recalibrated, but now, it was just beautiful, that golden connection. Fly felt the moment when the Guardian responded, the air around them beginning to shimmer with possibility rather than threat. The sound of waves deepened, harmonizing with something beyond normal perception. His body went weightless, floating, and his breath rushed out as he just went somewhere else. Everything was just blue, like a bubble of living sea.
A presence made itself known, vast as the ocean, ancient as the tides. But when he materialized before them, Fly's breath caught. This wasn't the shifting features of a thousand faces he glimpsed through Flash’s bond. The Guardian stood beforethem without the ethereal mask he'd shown Flash, his true face revealed by exhaustion and necessity.
He was younger than Fly had imagined, perhaps appearing to be in his thirties, with sharp cheekbones and skin that seemed to hold starlight beneath its surface. But those features were drawn with weariness, dark circles shadowing eyes that flickered between silver and deep blue like troubled water. His hair, dark as the space between stars, was disheveled, and there was something raw and exposed about seeing him this way, like glimpsing a general without his uniform.
Robes of gossamer blue flowed around him, torn at the edges, frayed as if by invisible claws. Most telling were his hands, trembling slightly, and Fly could see through them in places, as if the Guardian's very essence was being worn thin by the constant battle to hold the barriers intact.
When his voice came, it seemed to rise from the water itself, but there was a weariness in it that made Fly's chest tighten with unexpected sympathy.
