The chain disappeared beyond the coral shelf, swallowed by darkness that seemed to breathe. Elias floated above it, bubbles rising slowly past his faceplate. His torchlight cut through the blue-green haze just far enough to reveal the next few links and then nothing but black. It was like staring into a throat.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, louder than the ocean. Every instinct told him to turn back, to rise toward the faint shimmer of daylight far above. But the chain went on, sliding down the slope, impossibly long, impossibly still. It didn’t look forgotten. It looked placed.
Then something shifted below him. The links trembled, barely perceptible but real, stirring the silt. Elias froze, eyes wide behind the mask. For the first time since he’d come to sea, Elias felt truly small, suspended between the surface above and the dark below.