Rhodoreef

11. The Witch's Cauldron

The vehicle journeyed through the plains—a lone specter gliding over the alien seascape. The mound of a building loomed ever closer on the sonar feed.

Dea watched a fish propped up like a tripod, its three spindly fins shining silver in the headlights. This place is flipping insane. Even the fish are insane. She suddenly shivered when she realized only six inches of acrylic glass separated her from death.

"What's this cauldron thingy you speak of?" she asked, her voice a mere swish of a seagrass blade.

Muda didn't reply. She flicked a switch and amped up the lights. Dea's breath escaped her in a whoosh.

The strangest scene materialized ahead. A pool of light expanded from the vehicle and laid bare the hidden wonder in all its glory.

It was a lake.

"How?" Dea managed to croak, drinking in the impossible sight.

"This is a brine lake," Muda said. "You surface-dwellers should learn more about these waters."

As they drew nearer, the colossal oceanmark extended beyond visibility. Mussels crusted its shoreline like a bejeweled ring, glinting under sparks of bioluminescence from tiny critters. Mist curled over its glassy black surface and spilled out in tendrils of smoke. The Witch's Cauldron!

The vehicle crossed the shore. Mollusk shells popped up in full clarity under the blast of a thousand lumens. Dea's heart flipped when she spied dead creatures—corpses forming a macabre rim around the abyssal pool.

When they sailed over the dense, black liquid, she sensed something wicked about its haunting depths. Sure enough, they came upon the levitating apparition of an eel, half submerged from view. She watched it contort in painful spasms as if it was hexed. She shivered again.

"The brine is lethal," Muda explained, observing her reaction. "Unless you're a hagfish."

They ventured inexorably closer to the far bank, where their destination stood. Ugly, grey hagfish did indeed dip into the lake, unaffected by its toxicity. Waves spread out from the disturbance.

When they reached the building, nothing but a faint glow betrayed its existence. Muda expertly guided the submersible to an airlock. Dea slumped back against the seat, trying to rein in the anxiety that roiled within. As they depressurized, even the quietest of vibrations grated on her nerves.

The hangar that welcomed them was not much different from the very first one she encountered.

"Well, we're here," Muda stated, making her jump. "Don't bother echolocating. The think room is soundproofed to prevent spying. We've been renovating this place ever since we moved in."

Dea fidgeted, trying to compose her sheepish face. The burly merwoman opened the hatch and hopped out with a splash.

A draught of frigid air ushered Dea out. The gloomy space appeared deserted but for the entropy of cables, pipes and scaffolding. A beam extended parallel to the vehicle's hatch—so wide it was akin to a platform.

"If you're done gawking, we can get a move on," Muda grunted, her hand resting leisurely on the gun holster by her hip.

"I'm coming!" Dea hurriedly slid into the pool.

Thankfully, the water was clean, with a hint of chlorine. Within minutes, Muda led her down a corridor to an old-fashioned conveyor belt. When they ascended to the upper level, its gears creaked in protest. They finally approached a door which appeared less industrial. Maybe it was an office when this operated as a warehouse complex.

"I'll be waiting out here," the merwoman said, sliding the door open. "You can enter."

Dea forced a smile. "Oh, okay..."