The salt spray of the Azure Sea felt like a familiar caress on Lyra’s face.
For
three generations, her family had been Royal Cartographers, tasked with charting
the ever-shifting coastlines of the kingdom of Eldoria. She stood at the prow of
The Sea Serpent, her spyglass pressed to her eye, watching the craggy islands they
were meant to be surveying. But it wasn't the rocks that held her interest; it was
the stories. Whispers of Aeridor, the Sunken City, a place of supposed marvels and
magic, lost to the waves a thousand years ago.Her father had called it a fool's
errand, a myth to frighten children. But Lyra had found a reference in a forgotten
sea chart, a faint, almost invisible marking in the deep channel between the
islands of Kor and Sael. It was labeled with a single, archaic word: Sanctuary.For
a week, they had dragged the dredging chains, her crew grumbling about the wasted
time and the dangerous currents. On the eighth day, there was a sound like the
world groaning. The iron chain, thick as a man’s arm, had gone taut, and the ship
listed dangerously. Lyra rushed to the side, peering into the turquoise depths.
Below the surface, something massive and angular had snagged their dredge. It
wasn't a reef. The lines were too perfect, too deliberate.Donning a heavy bronze
diving helmet, connected to the ship by a thin breathing tube, Lyra descended into
the cold embrace of the sea. The world became a muted realm of blue and green.
Shoals of silver fish darted past her as she sank deeper, following the line of the
chain. And then, she saw it.Rising from the seabed was a spire of pearlescent
stone, impossibly tall, covered in barnacles but clearly crafted by hands. As her
weighted boots touched the sandy bottom, the true scale of the discovery hit her.
She was standing in the grand plaza of a city. Buildings of white and gold stone,
adorned with intricate carvings of mythical sea creatures, stood silent and
majestic. A soft, internal light pulsed from strange, crystal-like flora that grew
in place of trees, illuminating the breathtaking, silent metropolis. This was
Aeridor.She walked through the ghostly streets, her heart pounding a rhythm that
echoed the slow, deep currents. There were no signs of struggle, no skeletons or
ruins. It was as if the inhabitants had simply vanished, leaving their beautiful
city to the ocean. In the center of the main square, she found a pedestal. Floating
just above it, contained within an unbreakable sphere of shimmering energy, was a
single, perfect black pearl. It seemed to absorb the light around it, radiating a
palpable sense of ancient power and profound sorrow. As she reached a trembling
hand towards it, the pearl pulsed, and a voice, ancient and vast, echoed not in the
water, but directly in her mind. “At last,” it whispered. “A visitor.”
