For a moment, neither moved. The hatch looked less like part of the reef than like a wound in it, something hidden and then forgotten. Nora crouched first, scraping away weed with trembling fingers until the rusted ring handle emerged from under years of salt.
It took both of them to wrench it upward. When the seal finally gave, the hatch opened only a crack, but cold air rose at once, damp and metallic, carrying the smell of trapped seawater. Eli stepped back. Nora only gripped the torch tighter.