The sheer force of the upheaval sent massive waves rolling outward, but Aqua was already prepared.
As Brix focused on shaping the land, Aqua stretched his arms toward the sky. The clouds above darkened, swirling into dense, churning masses. Cool air flowed downward, meeting the unnatural heat radiating from the rising island.
Aqua closed his eyes and breathed, channeling his essence into the air itself. A dense mist began to form, thick and unyielding, creeping over the waters and shrouding the newly risen land.
The mist was not ordinary—it carried a fragment of Aqua's will, ensuring it never dissipated completely. It swirled like a living thing, adjusting its density as needed.
If a ship or creature approached, the mist would twist their perception, making them believe they were sailing in the wrong direction. Should they persist, currents hidden within the fog would subtly push them away.
