The Arctic Endeavor's control room was a hive of restless energy, the tension crackling like static in the air. Evelyn stood at the center of it all, her eyes fixed on the main monitor as the drone descended into the trench. The glow of the screen bathed her face in cold light, sharpening the lines of her determination. Around her, the crew moved with a nervous precision, their voices low and clipped as they prepared for the mission.
"Depth at 1,200 meters," Drew announced, his fingers gliding over the controls with practiced ease. "Visibility's dropping, but the lights are holding steady."
Naomi hovered nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She hadn't said much since the meeting in the mess hall, but her unease was palpable. Evelyn glanced at her, the unspoken weight of their earlier conversation hanging between them. She wanted to offer reassurance, to tell Naomi that this mission would bring clarity, not chaos—but even she didn't fully believe that.
The feed from the drone flickered, revealing the murky depths below. At first, there was nothing but a swirl of silt and shadow, the ocean an endless void. Then, as the drone's lights pierced further into the darkness, the first glimpses of the city came into view.
"There," Evelyn said, leaning forward, her voice taut with anticipation. "Hold it steady."
The crew fell silent as the image sharpened. Towers rose like jagged teeth from the seabed, their surfaces slick with an unnatural sheen that reflected the drone's light. The architecture defied logic, its angles too sharp, its proportions too vast. Walls seemed to ripple as if alive, their surfaces pulsing with a faint, rhythmic glow.
"Are those… patterns?" Naomi asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She stepped closer, her gaze locked on the screen. "They're moving."
Evelyn nodded, her pulse quickening. The glowing lines etched into the walls seemed to shift and flow, like veins carrying some luminous energy. They pulsed in time with a distant, almost imperceptible hum that vibrated through the ship's speakers.
Graves' voice cut through the stillness. "This isn't right," he muttered, standing with his arms crossed at the back of the room. "That place shouldn't exist, let alone be… alive."
"Alive or not, it's there," Evelyn shot back, her eyes never leaving the screen. "And we're here to understand it."
The drone moved deeper into the city, navigating between the towering spires. Each structure seemed to lean slightly toward the drone, their shapes warping subtly as if observing the intruder. Evelyn's breath hitched as they passed what appeared to be an archway, its surface carved with symbols that seemed to shift under the drone's light.
"Pause here," she said, her voice tight. "Zoom in on that."
Drew complied, the camera focusing on the symbols. They were intricate and alien, their curves and angles defying any known language. Evelyn felt a shiver crawl up her spine as she studied them. There was something deeply unsettling about their symmetry, as if they held a meaning just out of reach.
"Anyone recognize this?" she asked, glancing around the room.
The silence was heavy, broken only by Naomi's quiet murmur. "I've seen those before."
Evelyn turned to her sharply. "Where?"
Naomi hesitated, her hands trembling. "In my dreams. On the walls. They were glowing, just like that."
Graves let out a sharp breath, his skepticism laced with unease. "Dreams, whispers, living walls. This is sounding less like science and more like a damn ghost story."
"It's not a ghost story," Naomi snapped, her voice cracking. "It's real. I don't know how, but it's real."
Before Evelyn could intervene, Drew's voice cut through the rising tension. "We've got movement."
All eyes snapped to the monitor as a shadow flitted across the screen. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but it sent a ripple of alarm through the room. Evelyn gripped the edge of the console, her knuckles white.
"Marine life?" Graves suggested, though his tone lacked conviction.
"Nothing moves like that," Drew replied, his fingers flying over the controls to adjust the camera. "Hold on, I'll track it."
The drone's lights swept through the city, illuminating walls and spires that seemed to loom closer with every passing second. The hum grew louder, a low vibration that thrummed through Evelyn's chest. Her pulse matched its rhythm, her body reacting to the sound in a way she couldn't explain.
"There!" Naomi pointed at the screen, her voice sharp with panic.
The camera panned, catching a brief glimpse of something massive. Its surface shimmered like liquid metal, its shape amorphous and impossible to define. For a moment, Evelyn thought she saw an eye—huge, luminous, and unblinking. It filled the screen, staring directly at the drone as if aware of their presence.
"What the hell is that?" Graves demanded, his voice rising.
"Pull back!" Evelyn ordered, her heart pounding. "Get the drone out of there!"
Drew's hands flew to the controls, but before he could execute the command, the feed cut to static. The room was plunged into silence, the abrupt loss of the signal leaving a vacuum that pressed on them all.
"Drew?" Evelyn's voice was tight with urgency. "What happened?"
"I don't know," he muttered, frantically typing commands into the console. "It just… stopped. No signal, no telemetry. It's like it's gone."
Evelyn's chest tightened as the implications sank in. The drone was their lifeline, their eyes and ears in the abyss. Without it, they were blind.
Naomi backed away from the console, her face pale. "It saw us," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Whatever that was, it saw us."
Evelyn turned to her, her mind racing. "Naomi, calm down. We don't know that."
"Yes, we do!" Naomi shouted, her fear bubbling over. "You saw it too. That eye—it was looking right at us."
The room descended into chaos as the crew erupted into arguments, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of panic and denial. Evelyn stood frozen, her mind replaying the last image on the screen. The eye. The hum. The way the city seemed to breathe.
Graves slammed his fist on the console, silencing the room. "Enough! This is exactly why I said we should've left. That thing down there? It's not some ancient ruin. It's a damn trap."
Evelyn turned to him, her jaw tightening. "We don't know that."
"No?" Graves gestured to the blank monitor. "Then what do you call this? Curiosity? Because I call it a warning."
The tension was suffocating, the air in the control room thick with fear and frustration. Evelyn closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. When she opened them, her resolve was steel.
"Everyone, back to your stations," she ordered, her voice cutting through the noise. "We'll analyze the data we have and figure out our next move."
The crew hesitated, their doubt written plainly on their faces. But one by one, they filed out, leaving Evelyn alone in the control room. She turned back to the monitor, her reflection staring back at her in the blank screen.
Her fingers brushed the edge of her father's journal, the leather worn and familiar. She opened it to the last page, the words scrawled in his hurried hand:
"Some things are meant to sleep."
Evelyn closed the journal, her heart heavy with the weight of the unknown. She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the distant hum that still echoed in her ears.
"It's awake."