The Typhoon Sea Rift, once a nightmare of psychic pressure and temporal chaos, was silent now.
Not dead—resting.
Transformed.
What was once the Mind Typhoon Sea Rift had become something far older and stranger—a domain stripped of corruption, its core purged by the fall of the Aeon Seraph. Now, it was known only by those who'd survived it as:
The Sea of Calm Echoes.
Leon stood at the prow of a sleek drift-boat made from coral-infused alloy—half grown, half forged. It skimmed over the water without leaving a wake, silent and smooth as glass.
"This place is… unreal," he murmured.
Beneath them, the sea was translucent. Schools of iridescent eel-fish twisted through underwater arches of living crystal. Great columns of coral hummed with barely-audible tones—not voices, but something close.
Liliana stood near the edge, hand glowing faintly as she traced the resonance. "It's still alive," she said softly. "The Rift itself… it remembers music now instead of screams."
