Over the next several days, Azaril and Silvius established a routine of regur visits to the Memory Center. As promised, they requested Coralline specifically as their guide, and she was consistently made avaible to them—though often under the watchful eye of Supervisor Pastwatch or other deep-adapted staff.

  During these sessions, they developed a careful method of communication. Direct questions about sensitive matters were avoided, but Coralline became adept at directing them to memory clusters that contained useful information beyond their official descriptions. Likewise, Azaril and Silvius learned to share observations in ways that would seem innocuous to outside listeners while conveying their growing understanding to Coralline.

  It was during their fifth visit that the limitations of their position became unavoidably clear.

  "I'd like to access information about undersea cultivation techniques," Azaril requested as they concluded their regur session. "Agricultural methods have been of particur interest during our journey through the realms."

  Coralline hesitated, her gills fluttering briefly. "Those memories are maintained in the cultivation section. It would require traveling to a different part of the shelf."

  "Is that a problem?" Silvius inquired.

  "Not officially," she replied carefully. "But it would mean moving through more public areas."

  Their previous visits had always been conducted during quieter periods, with routes that minimized interaction with the general popution. Azaril recognized the warning in her words but felt they needed to push beyond these controlled experiences if they were to truly understand the Undersea Domain.

  "We've been here long enough to navigate appropriately," he assured her. "If you're permitted to guide us?"

  A moment's calcution showed in her eyes before she nodded. "As your assigned memory guide, I can escort you to any public area of the shelf. Please follow closely."

  As they left the familiar confines of the visitor section of the Memory Center, Azaril immediately noticed a shift in atmosphere. The carefully maintained distance that had characterized most of their interactions with undersea dwellers transformed into something more actively uncomfortable as they entered busier corridors.

  Residents moved aside as they approached, creating a conspicuous space around them. Some watched with undisguised suspicion, others with a bnk uniformity that seemed deliberately neutral. Most troubling were those who turned to whisper to companions with perfect synchronization—identical head movements and expressions that suggested coordination beyond mere cultural simirity.

  "The cultivation memories are housed near the growing fields," Coralline expined, maintaining a professional tone despite the obvious attention they were attracting. "It's more efficient to store knowledge near its application."

  They passed through what appeared to be a main thoroughfare, where the density of residents increased significantly. Here, the reactions intensified. A group of young undersea dwellers, their coloration and gill structures marking them as shelf natives, moved as one to block their path momentarily before dispersing with identical expressions of mild disdain.

  "Surface adaptations are limited," one commented loud enough to be heard.

  "Pressure weakness is obvious," another added in the same tone.

  "They don't belong below," a third concluded, completing what felt like a rehearsed exchange.

  Coralline continued forward without acknowledging the comments, but Azaril noticed her posture had tensed. He had experienced prejudice in various forms throughout his journey across realms—the strength hierarchy of his own demon kingdom, the css structure of the Human Empire, the subtle exclusion in the Sylvan Territories, the altitude discrimination of the Floating Isles. Yet this felt different—more coordinated, as though the opposition came not from individual biases but from some collective decision.

  As they navigated through increasingly crowded areas, Azaril became aware of subtle physical differences between himself and the natural undersea dwellers. Despite his magical adaptation, his movements cked the fluid efficiency of those born to water. His gill structures, while functional, were less developed than even the shelf natives. These differences marked him as unmistakably foreign.

  They passed a group of deeper-adapted residents who had apparently ascended to the shelf for some official purpose. Unlike the unified disdain of the shelf dwellers, these deeper residents regarded them with calcuting assessment, as though measuring potential threat or use.

  "Memory Keeper," one of them addressed Coralline, ignoring Azaril and Silvius completely. "These surface visitors access comprehensive records?"

  "Approved historical and cultural memories only," Coralline replied with perfect formality. "As specified in their authorization."

  The deeper dweller's gills pulsed slowly. "Ensure limitations are maintained. Surface understanding is... restricted by nature."

  "Of course, Depth Lord," Coralline answered, bowing her head slightly.

  The exchange was brief but illuminating. The undersea hierarchy was not merely social convention but seemed to extend to fundamental beliefs about capacity for understanding.

  As they continued toward the cultivation area, Azaril noticed something else—Coralline was now receiving almost as many negative reactions as they were. Shelf dwellers watched her with the same synchronized suspicion, and he heard murmured phrases following their passage:

  "Mid-depth compromises." "Surface sympathy weakens." "Current coherence threatened."

  The phrases were spoken by different individuals but with identical intonation and timing, creating an eerie effect of a single thought expressed through multiple voices.

  When they finally reached the cultivation section, Azaril was relieved to find it less poputed. Large, carefully tended beds of undersea pnts stretched through a series of connected chambers, with specialized coral formations housing the associated memory clusters.

  "These contain the historical and technical knowledge of our cultivation methods," Coralline expined, her voice rexing slightly in the retive privacy. "The memories include both successful techniques and failed experiments."

  As Azaril pced his hands on the indicated coral, he received impressions of ingenious agricultural adaptations—methods for growing nutrient-rich pnts in the challenging underwater environment, techniques for managing water currents to optimize growth, systems for harvesting and preserving the results.

  When he withdrew from contact, he found a cultivation worker watching him with unconcealed suspicion.

  "Surface visitors should not access growth techniques," the worker stated ftly.

  "They have proper authorization," Coralline responded, presenting their official passes.

  The worker examined the documentation with obvious reluctance. "Authorization is technically valid," he acknowledged, "but wisdom suggests limitation."

  "We respect your concerns," Azaril said, attempting to ease the tension. "We seek understanding, not appropriation."

  The worker's expression didn't change. "Surface understanding is inherently limited. Pressure adaptation determines comprehension depth."

  It was the same phrase they had heard repeatedly—a justification for restriction based on supposed inherent capacity. Yet Azaril had demonstrated exceptional ability to interact with memory structures, directly contradicting this cim.

  "Perhaps experience broadens capacity," Silvius suggested mildly.

  The worker didn't respond to this directly. Instead, he turned to Coralline with a statement that sounded rehearsed: "Memory Keeper, your guidance responsibilities do not require extensive exposure. Minimal interaction fulfills obligation."

  Coralline's posture stiffened slightly. "As assigned guide, I am fulfilling authorized functions. The Memory Center approved this educational access."

  For a moment, it seemed the worker might continue to object. Then, with unsettling suddenness, his demeanor shifted to neutral acceptance. "Procedure acknowledged. Limited duration advised."

  As he swam away, Azaril noticed three other workers in the chamber turn to watch them simultaneously, their movements perfectly synchronized despite being engaged in different tasks moments before.

  "We should continue efficiently," Coralline suggested, a new tension in her voice. "There are several more memory clusters relevant to cultivation techniques."

  They proceeded through the cultivation area, accessing various memory corals containing specialized agricultural knowledge. Throughout, Azaril remained acutely aware of the coordinated attention they attracted. Workers would pause in unison to observe them, then return to tasks with identical nods of acknowledgment when noticed.

  During a moment when they were retively isoted, Azaril spoke quietly to Coralline. "Your association with us seems to create difficulties for you."

  Her gills fluttered briefly before she controlled the reaction. "My function is assigned. Personal considerations are irrelevant."

  The response sounded like the standard phrases they had heard throughout the Undersea Domain, but Azaril detected a subtle defiance beneath the conventional words. Coralline was deliberately maintaining her role as their guide despite apparent social consequences.

  "Nevertheless, we appreciate your thorough assistance," Silvius added, clearly recognizing the same undercurrent.

  As they completed their examination of the cultivation memories, a new group of undersea dwellers entered the chamber—deeper-adapted officials who moved with the confident authority Azaril had come to associate with higher status in this realm. The officials conferred briefly, then approached with purposeful coordination.

  "Surface visitors," the apparent leader addressed them directly, "your presence disrupts cultivation operations. This area has specialty pressure conditions unsuited to surface adaptation."

  Azaril noticed that no such pressure differences were actually apparent, but the statement was delivered with such authority that it was clearly not meant to be questioned.

  "We've completed our educational objectives," he responded diplomatically. "And were just preparing to depart."

  "Wise decision," the official stated with a finality that bordered on threat. "Memory Keeper, escort the visitors to appropriate surface-level areas."

  "Yes, Depth Administrator," Coralline acknowledged, her formal demeanor perfectly restored in their presence.

  As they left the cultivation area, Azaril became aware of a subtle but significant shift in the environment around them. What had been individual expressions of suspicion or disdain from residents seemed to have transformed into a more coordinated response. Undersea dwellers moved aside as they passed, creating an unnatural void around them that felt less like respect for space and more like containment.

  "I believe we've attracted official attention," Silvius murmured as they navigated back toward more familiar territory.

  "Indeed," Azaril agreed quietly. "Though it's curious—there's no explicit hostility or direct action to remove us, just a consistent pressure to remain in designated areas."

  Coralline guided them through less poputed corridors, clearly choosing a route to minimize further interactions. When they reached the boundary of the visitor section, she paused.

  "Tomorrow's memory session should return to standard historical topics," she suggested, her emphasis on "standard" barely perceptible. "The cultivation materials, while technically avaible, have proven... culturally sensitive."

  "We understand," Azaril assured her. "And we have no wish to create difficulties."

  Her expression softened momentarily. "Difficulties exist independently of wishes," she said, the personal nature of the statement contrasting sharply with the formal phrases they typically heard from undersea residents.

  As they parted ways, Azaril watched Coralline swim toward what appeared to be an administrative structure. Two deeper-adapted officials intercepted her almost immediately, escorting her inside with a coordination that suggested predetermined purpose rather than coincidental meeting.

  Back in their quarters, Azaril and Silvius took stock of the day's experiences.

  "They want us gone," Azaril observed, "but without explicitly asking us to leave or directly refusing hospitality. It's as though they're applying constant, subtle pressure to restrict our movements and interactions."

  "More concerning is the nature of that pressure," Silvius added. "Have you noticed how the coordination has increased? Initially, we observed occasional synchronized movements or identical phrases. Today, it felt like a collective response—as though the entire community was reacting as one organism."

  Azaril moved to the viewing portal, watching the patterns of residents moving through distant corridors. "And Coralline stands out increasingly by maintaining her individual assistance to us. Whatever pressure the community is applying, she's resisting it somehow."

  "At potential cost to herself," Silvius noted. "That final interception by officials seemed significant."

  "Yet she continues to help us navigate their memory systems, despite the consequences." Azaril turned back from the portal. "She's trying to show us something—something she can't state directly."

  They discussed their observations te into the night cycle, analyzing patterns that seemed increasingly clear: the undersea dwellers functioned with a level of coordination that went beyond cultural harmony or shared values. Their reactions to surface visitors weren't individual prejudice but seemed somehow collectively determined and implemented.

  Most troubling was the consistent emphasis on depth adaptation determining capacity for understanding—a justification for restriction that contradicted Azaril's demonstrated ability with the memory corals. It felt like misdirection, focusing attention on the obvious physical hierarchy to distract from something else.

  As the bioluminescent lighting dimmed to simute night conditions, Azaril found himself contempting the nature of prejudice across realms. In each kingdom, social divisions had been maintained through different mechanisms—demon strength hierarchies through combat, human css structures through restricted knowledge, floating isle stratification through altitude separation.

  Here in the Undersea Domain, the depth-based hierarchy was openly acknowledged, even emphasized. Yet beneath that explicit structure, something else operated—something that coordinated thought and action across individuals in a way he hadn't observed elsewhere. And whatever that mechanism was, Coralline seemed uniquely resistant to its full effects.

  "Tomorrow," Azaril decided as they prepared for rest, "we need to find a way to speak with Coralline more privately. I believe she's taking risks to help us understand, but the constraints on her are substantial."

  "And growing stronger," Silvius agreed. "The coordination of response to our presence is increasing. It's as though the community is gradually unifying against us without explicitly asking us to leave."

  "Not just against us," Azaril corrected. "Against Coralline as well, for maintaining her connection to us."

  That final observation lingered in his mind as he drifted toward sleep. Whatever hidden current ran beneath the beautiful bioluminescent society, Coralline was swimming against it—and potentially facing consequences for doing so. Their presence was catalyzing something, bringing submerged tensions to the surface where they could finally be seen.