Far beneath the Aquamarine Ocean, in the echoing halls of the Obsidian Palace, Empress Renée retrieved a small mussel shell and slipped quietly into a garderobe for privacy. She needed answers—now—before she could face any seafolk. Inside the cramped stone chamber, lit only by the soft glow of bioluminescent algae, she performed the old test in silence. She turned the shell over and, with rampant urgency, did what was required. Then she set it gently on the ledge, careful not to disturb it, and stepped away.Pacing the narrow space, her thoughts raced. Each second felt stretched thin, as if time itself resisted her need. Her breath quickened. Her fingers trembled. The stillness around her was stifling, and she found herself counting heartbeats, willing the answer to reveal itself before her nerves gave way.“Change color,” she growled at the shell. “Change, change!”The shell’s color remained stubbornly unchanged. When the minute passed and still nothing stirred beneath its smooth surf