Maybe it was my enthusiasm, maybe it was the unique angle of my pitch, or maybe it was something else, something unseen influencing events, but Captain Rostova agreed to take me on as the expedition’s official journalist.

Her crew was small, a handful of scientists, technicians, and submarine pilots. They were a mix of seasoned professionals and young enthusiasts. I quickly realized that Captain Rostova ran a tight ship and tolerated no nonsense.

I didn’t mention the sculptures or my previous experiences to anyone on the crew. It was already difficult enough to be taken seriously as a journalist on a scientific expedition. Bringing up mystical artifacts and forest spirits would likely get me labeled as crazy.

I packed the sculptures carefully, securing them in a waterproof case disguised as a photography equipment box.

Our vessel was a research ship retrofitted with a small submersible capable of reaching extreme depths. Leaving port, the familiar feeling of stepping into another world washed over me, but this time, it was a world of steel, technology, and the vast, unseen depths of the ocean.