{"In the silence of the drowned sanctuary, the truth rose like a wave too old to silence, too dark to escape, and we knew then: the storm had already begun."}
The water thickened as we passed the threshold. It was not just the pressure of the deep; it was memory. Wound into the current. Echoing off the stone. Watching. The gate closed behind us with a low, resonant thrum, like a giant exhale.
And then we were inside, the Drowned Sanctuary revealed itself in pieces, its walls carved from black abyssal coral and ancient bones, glowing with slow-turning runes in hues of sapphire and silver. It did not feel like ruins. No, this place had not been abandoned. It had been waiting.
