Bruma held the fifteen-foot pocket of air steady—an invisible dome of sanctuary pressed into the crushing depths of the Grey Sea. For one hour, just as she promised, she kept it intact. The walls around them hissed and groaned with pressure, but her gravitational pulse didn't waver.
That hour was Lucy's only reprieve. It wasn't nearly enough to fully restore his mana—or recover after channeling both atomic radiation and the crucible of grace—but it was something. By the time he stirred awake, about a third of his divine reserves had trickled back into him.
And in Lucy's case, even one-third of his mana was more than Gindu, Llarm, and Eri's full capacity combined.
Now, that unlikely cohort was marching through a tunnel of flame and wind at the bottom of the sea.
