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// Story: 80 Days: Under the Waves 
// by Sharp Spark 
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Scarcely an hour later, we walked out of the eastern bounds of the city. With the starstone’s fragments on a cord around each of our necks, a wobbly bubble of air formed around each of us.

“That was simpler than I expected,” I said.

“We are not to land yet, Porter,” my mistress said, gravely. She looked out into the darkness of the sea and I knew that our journey had only just begun.

We began our trek, picking our way across the floor of the ocean, as darkness intensified all around us. More than once, a rocky outcropping or jagged coral reef forced us to reconsider our path.

Days later, as we rested in the cleft of a stony cliff, I noticed something odd. Behind us, a pinprick of light floated on the very edge of my vision. Curious, I retrieved the spyglass that I had picked up weeks ago in Istanbull, and peered back at the apparition.

I saw a dome, encompassing roiling flames and smoke. There was nothing in that direction save the city we had fled, and I could not imagine what danger could have befallen it in such a short time. Just as I paused to rub my eyes before taking a second look, the light winked out, leaving nothing but darkness behind.

I told Madame Fog what I had seen, disconcerted with the implications. “Best not to worry,” she replied. “We have far to go, and little time. Let us press onwards.”

[ENDING B]