“Why did I bother changing first?” Vera asked.
“It won’t be an issue,” Merlin answered as he gingerly stepped onto the first tier at the height of his knees. He climbed with the agility of a much younger man to the top of the basin.
Vera sighed, remembering she’d decided she was too far in to turn back, and followed him. It wasn’t terribly high, not two meters to the top. She clambered awkwardly to sit atop the wall, her dress catching under her. She grunted with the effort as she spun her feet toward the waters. Clutching the bag still slung over her shoulder, Vera remembered the photograph tucked away.
“Merlin?” she said tentatively. She didn’t see him at first. It was darker this far back in the room, and there was only one small candelabra lit up at the far end of this pool. After a moment, though, she saw that he had gracefully paddled to the center. “I’m not sure what to do with my bag. There’s … there’s the picture of my parents in there.”
She couldn’t see his face but could tell he’d turned back toward her. “It’s all right. Your belongings will be fine.”
She hesitated only another moment and then, clutching the bag to her body, lowered herself in. Half gasp and half yell escaped her when the cold water rushed over her skin. She’d never dipped in the spring herself but knew the waters were famously frigid year-round. Vera stumbled toward Merlin at the center of the pool, her soaked gown growing heavier with each step and catching around her ankles.
It was deepest in the middle. When she drew even with Merlin, their heads were the only parts of their bodies not submerged. Even as a disembodied head in freezing waters, he looked composed and stately. Vera, on the other hand, shivered violently and had to grasp Merlin’s arm as she stumbled on her hem. He helped hold her to her feet and kept his hand on Vera’s elbow to steady her.
“In a moment, I’ll ask you to go completely underwater. And then I’ll begin the spell.” Merlin spoke deliberately and didn’t break eye contact with Vera. “Once the spell begins, it’s imperative that you do not come back to the surface. Do you understand?”
She nodded and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. “Stay underwater. Got it.”
“We’ve only got one shot at this,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“I guess so.” She took a ragged breath. “Are you?”
“I am.”
His ease soothed Vera some, and she found herself grateful for his steadying hand.
“Want a count of three or better to press on?” Merlin asked.
“Just go,” she said.
“All right. And … go.”
Vera took one deep breath and dunked her head beneath the surface. He hadn’t specified how deep she needed to go, so she simply stopped fighting the drag of her dress. It pulled her down until her knees reached the bottom. She kept her eyes shut, and even had she not, it would have been too dark to see if Merlin was submerged, too. She felt his hand drift to her shoulder, pressing down firmly—not a shove, but a steadying tether to hold her in place.
It didn’t feel extraordinary. It felt … like being underwater. Vera hadn’t asked when to come back up or how long she’d need to hold her breath. The seconds stretched on, and nothing happened. She stayed perfectly still. After twenty seconds, the tickle of a burn bloomed in her chest. By thirty, Vera was beginning to panic. She couldn’t hold her breath much longer in water this cold. What would happen if she tried to come up too early? Not consciously bidden, a survival instinct drove her feet beneath her, and the urge to stand became irresistible. As she pushed upward, the steadying hand on her shoulder shoved down with surprising strength.
Oh shit.
Her eyes shot open, and she looked into the dark water above her, searching for answers she would never see. Even in the dark, she could tell her vision was threatening to collapse on the edges. She was on the brink of losing consciousness when the water around her changed.
It was no longer liquid. Instead, it became a thick gel. Her frantic movements ceased; she froze. Everything was motionless, and then it was like a vacuum opened beneath her. Vera felt a great lurch and screamed into the gelatinous water as her body was violently sucked down, but she never hit the bottom. One second, her mind was vividly present in terror that she was certain would never stop.
From everywhere and nowhere, a voice she’d never heard before filled her.
“Ishau mar domibaru.”
Then there was nothing at all.
Vera’s haze cleared as she stared at the sky, eyes already open, watching wispy clouds float above. There was one sound at her lips: ish. The sound of a summer breeze whispering through flowered fields. There’d been more words; she was sure of it. She chased it through her mind and tried to grab hold of it, but it vaporized into nothing as soon as conscious thought touched it. She sat up.
“Did you say something?” a man asked. She turned. Merlin sat on the ground behind her, looking as disheveled as Vera felt.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. Water. She remembered it changing and the sense of being sucked down, and then—what? Vera blinked. How had she gotten out of the water? Or the temple?
She sat on green grass in an open field. Vera heard flowing water before she noticed the stream to her side. Her left hand rested in its shallowest part, on smooth rounded stones that barely an inch of water trickled over. But her hand was the only part of her body that was wet. The dress and bag and shoes—everything that had been fully submerged was dry. Vera reached up and touched her head. Her hair wasn’t even damp.
The stream meandered down the hillside before disappearing into trees and lush foliage below. Vera traced the waters back up the hill to where they came from, a gap in the rock not twenty feet above her. “Where are we?”
“Can’t you tell?” Merlin asked.
