Below

The Dark Below is a steam-punk/fantasy world filled with the darkness that rests beneath a wavering tide. Generations ago, Gods from the depths below rose from the black seas and in doing so, caused a great flood that would have destroyed all of humanity if it was not for the ingenuity of survival. Living among The Dark Below has come to pass, but now four warriors must come together in hopes of forging a brighter future.

3:00 a.m. Insomnia gnawed at my nerves like a rusted saw, grinding back and forth mercilessly. On a whim that I couldn't explain, I opened a radio app called "Echoes from Below." The interface was simple and bare. Black background, blue text. No ads, no host introduction. Just a single audio waveform, slowly buffering on the screen. The shape of the waveform felt wrong. It didn't look like soundwaves at all. More like rows of sharp, interlocking teeth. A pop-up window appeared in the center of the screen. [Listening Guidelines] The letters glowed blue, carrying an unsettling eeriness. [This station's signal may extend into dreams. If you hear the broadcast while dreaming, firmly believe that you are awake.]

Kat was use to moving but it never got any easier. She dreaded having to constantly start over. She had all but given up on a forever place to call home. One day when her husband comes home and hands her a set of keys and a deed. He informs her this move would be the last, she was over the moon. It wasn’t long after moving in that she found her dream of a forever home was going to quickly turn into her worst nightmare. What was watching from underneath the floorboard?

Year XX26 when a plane had gone missing. No one has heard from it since then. Search parties were called off and passengers were declared dead. People tried calling out to them through their phones. They hear it ring but no one answers. Nathalia Trayce's father was on that plane and she's determined to find out where or what exactly happened to him; by going to the place that her father was suppose to go. Hoping to find more clues, she boarded a plane passing through the Pacific Ocean when an unexpected thing happened; their plane crashed and they suddenly found themselves in an underwater land. The Atlantis, where they found out that they were responsible for the missing planes in order to save them from the government. At least, those who posses Atlantean genes - a superior gene that help improve their physical and mental abilities. But why can Nathalie hear the thoughts of sea creatures - an ability that is suppose to be for Byron, who's the said reincarnated demigod? Trained by an Atlantean general named Skyr, and learning that her ex-bestfriend, Trei, was actually one of the Atlantean rebels. Nathalia had to choose which side to take. Or in her case, who to believe.

was sixteen years old when he was first killed; when he stood on Matthew's chest, his best friend, blood spurted from all over their bodies so that it was an exhausting and even battle between them until Matthew at last gave way to victory. Jaden breathed out, feeling the fires of hell all around him. His palm shook over the sheath of his sword, recalling that nightmare that steals sleep from his eyes: the moment he was kneeling on Matthew's chest, raising his rusty dagger, reluctant to take his soul, his eyeballs shaking turbulently and his chest rising and falling at an exhausting pace, and Matthew grabbed his trembling palm and led him towards his chest containing the dagger. Empty not to retreat, not to coerce and relieve him from his hell, but to kill him and prove to everyone that he will no longer be the prey. On that day, everyone around him was waiting, waiting for him to retreat in order to pounce on them, the mighty king's monsters, who made a vow to himself to turn his life into hell from the moment he was born and did the most heinous things.

As the only expert in the world capable of rescue dives below 3,000 feet, I received a once-in-a-lifetime salvage contract worth tens of millions of dollars. I had dived in those same waters over a decade ago. My son's research submersible had been damaged on the ocean floor. After his oxygen ran out, he suffocated in the dark. The grief nearly destroyed me. My husband, Griffin Lattimer, held me through it, staying by my side through countless miserable nights. I found out later that he had personally redirected the only rescue vessel capable of reaching the depths our son was at to save his childhood friend's daughter. That girl had merely choked on a mouthful of water in the shallows. I divorced Griffin and threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a woman possessed, diving over and over until I knew the undercurrents of those waters better than I knew my own home. I never wanted another child to die the way mine did. Today brought the same stretch of ocean, the same crushed hull, the same depleted oxygen, and the same impossible odds. When I opened the client's file, I went completely still. I recognized the name and face inside instantly. I would never forget either of them for as long as I lived. I smiled and slid the folder back across the table to my partner. "I can't take this one."