The journey to the Sunken King's domain took two days.

  Two days of traveling through territories that grew increasingly hostile. Two days of watching the sky darken as they descended from the floating continents toward the great ocean below. Two days of preparing arguments, anticipating questions, trying to find words that might stop a war.

  Emre spent most of that time in silence, thinking.

  The transport they'd hired—a massive ballooncraft piloted by a being who claimed to have crossed the void between worlds—drifted slowly downward through layers of cloud. Below them, the ocean stretched to every horizon, its surface broken only by occasional islands and the distant shapes of things that moved beneath the waves.

  "The Sunken King's domain begins where the light ends," the pilot said. He was old—ancient, perhaps—with skin like weathered leather and eyes that had seen too much. "His people don't live on the surface. They live in the deep. In the pressure and the dark. They've been there since before the first Mando, before the first gods, before anything you'd recognize."

  "How do we talk to them?" Maya asked. "We can't breathe underwater."

  "You won't have to. The King has meeting places—chambers where air and water meet. He'll receive you there, if he receives you at all." The pilot glanced at Emre. "He's angry, you know. More angry than I've ever seen him. Thalassar was his oldest friend. His wisest counselor. His death is a wound that won't heal."

  "I know." Emre's voice was quiet. "That's why we're here."

  The pilot nodded slowly. "Then I hope your words are magic. Because nothing else will save you now."

  ---

  The meeting chamber was exactly as the pilot had described: a place where air and water met.

  It was a bubble—a vast hemisphere of transparent material that held back the ocean's pressure while allowing view of the depths beyond. Inside, the air was cold and damp, tasting of salt and something else. Something ancient.

  They stood at the chamber's center, waiting.

  Outside, shapes moved in the darkness. Large shapes. Purposeful shapes. The Sunken King's guard, watching, waiting, ready.

  And then the King himself arrived.

  He came from the depths with a majesty that stole Emre's breath. His form was immense—twice the height of a human, with skin that shimmered like abalone and eyes that held the light of bioluminescent deeps. A crown of coral rested on his brow, and in his hand he carried a staff that seemed to be made of solidified water.

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  He entered the chamber through a portal that sealed behind him, leaving him standing in the air-filled space as comfortably as any surface-dweller.

  "Debugger." His voice was deep, resonant, filled with the pressure of miles of ocean. "You have courage. I'll grant you that."

  "Your Majesty." Emre inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you for seeing us."

  "Don't thank me yet. You may not thank me when we're done." The King moved closer, his massive form casting long shadows in the chamber's light. "My oldest friend is dead. Murdered. In a place that was supposed to be neutral. By people who wanted to destroy the peace he spent centuries building."

  "We know. We've been investigating since it happened."

  "And what have you discovered?"

  Emre met his eyes. "That the killers weren't from the surface. That they weren't trying to stop the treaty. That Thalassar was targeted for what he knew, not what he represented."

  The King's expression didn't change, but something shifted in those ancient eyes. "Explain."

  "The Unbound. A faction that broke from the Mando. They believe souls should be freed from the cycle of existence—permanently. They've been hunting Echoes for decades. Thalassar knew where Echoes were. Knew the deeps, the old places, the sunken cities where souls still drift." Emre paused. "They killed him for that knowledge. Not for the treaty. Not for politics. For information."

  The King was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quieter.

  "The Unbound. I've heard rumors. I didn't believe them."

  "Believe them. We faced them in the Abandoned Sector. They're real. They're dangerous. And they're still out there."

  "And the treaty? The agreement Thalassar died for?"

  Emre looked at Sulley. She nodded.

  "It's still valid," Emre said. "At least, it is if you want it to be. Thalassar signed it. His signature carries your authority, your honor, your word. The surface nations have already agreed. All that's missing is your final approval."

  The King stared at him. "You're asking me to approve the treaty that my friend died negotiating?"

  "I'm asking you to honor his memory by completing what he started. He believed in this. Believed peace was possible. Believed his people deserved a place in the sun." Emre held the King's gaze. "Don't let his murder be the end of that dream. Let it be the beginning."

  Another long silence.

  Outside, the shapes in the water moved restlessly. Inside, no one breathed.

  Finally, the King spoke.

  "You're either the bravest being I've ever met or the most foolish."

  "Both, probably."

  A sound escaped the King—unexpected, surprising. It took Emre a moment to recognize it.

  Laughter.

  "You remind me of him, you know. Thalassar. He had that same stubbornness. That same refusal to accept defeat." The King's expression softened, just slightly. "He spoke of you, before he left. Said you were different. Said you might actually be worthy of the hope so many had placed in you."

  "I'm not worthy of anything. I just don't know how to give up."

  "Neither did he." The King turned away, looking out at the depths. "The treaty will stand. I'll sign it formally when we're done here. But first—" He faced Emre again. "First, I want your word. Your personal word. That you'll find the Unbound. That you'll stop them. That Thalassar's murder won't go unavenged."

  Emre didn't hesitate.

  "You have my word."

  The King studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

  "Then we have an agreement."

  ---

  The formal signing took place an hour later, in a ceremony that involved more ritual than Emre could follow. Representatives from a dozen surface nations had been summoned—somehow, impossibly, the King's messengers had reached them in the time since Emre's arrival. They gathered in the chamber, watching as the King pressed his seal to the document Thalassar had signed.

  When it was done, a murmur ran through the crowd. Relief, mostly. But also something else. Hope.

  Sulley found Emre standing apart, watching the celebration.

  "You did it," she said softly.

  "We did it. All of us." He looked at her. "But it's not over. The Unbound are still out there. And I gave my word."

  "I know." She took his hand. "We'll find them. Together."

  They stood in silence, watching the representatives mingle, watching the King receive congratulations with a face that showed nothing of his grief.

  Maya appeared beside them, Kaelen following.

  "So what now?" she asked.

  "Now we rest. For a day, maybe two." Emre squeezed Sulley's hand. "And then we hunt."

  Kaelen nodded grimly. "The Unbound won't be easy to find. They'll go deeper now, hide in places even the Sunken King doesn't know."

  "Then we'll go deeper too."

  Outside the chamber, the ocean stretched into endless darkness.

  Somewhere in that darkness, the Unbound waited.

  And the Debugger was coming for them.