But none of them had to choose between the waters and their mate. None of them faced the possibility of losing the one person their bear recognized as essential to survival.
My father had my mother safe at home when he made his final stand. Had the comfort of knowing she was protected, that his sacrifice wouldn't leave her alone in the world. I don't have that luxury. Isla is somewhere in the abyss, and if I don't go now, if I stay here fighting while she drowns or gets captured or dies alone in the darkness?—
But the battle still rages around me. Declan's wolves are holding, barely, against enhanced soldiers who keep pushing toward the cave entrance. If I leave, if I abandon this position, Carrick's forces might break through. Might access the passages that lead down to where the seals were built, where ancient protections keep old evils contained.
Declan's wolf appears at my side, massive and blood-streaked. He shifts to human form, voice raw. "Go."
"I can't leave you to?—"
"Go, Grayson." His eyes hold mine, alpha to alpha, brotherhood to brotherhood. "We can hold the shore. We can fight these bastards until dawn if we have to. But you're Guardian of the Deep Places. That's your sacred duty. And your mate needs you."
"If they break through?—"
"They won't." Rafe's panther melts out of the shadows, midnight black and deadly graceful. Grey mist swirls as he shifts to human form. "Moira sealed the standing stones. The ritual circle is broken. I'm here now, and Finn's people are moving to reinforce." His eyes gleam in the darkness. "Go to the trenches, Grayson. That's where this ends."
If she's down there facing Carrick, if she's in danger, then the real threat isn't here on the shore. It's in the abyss where no one else can follow.
"Hold this position," I tell Declan. "Don't let them through."
"We won't." He's already shifting back to wolf, rallying his pack for another defensive stand.
I turn and run for the water. Not toward the caves behind us, but toward the open ocean where the eastern trenches lie. My bear hits the surf at full speed, and I dive deep.
The ocean welcomes me like it always does. These waters know my family, recognize the guardian's presence. Currents guide me, showing the fastest path down. Temperature drops asI descend, pressure building. Cold seeps into my bones despite the protection my bear form provides.
I push harder, powerful strokes propelling me deeper. Every second counts. Every meter deeper takes me closer to where she might be, but also closer to the limits of what even a bear can survive.
My lungs begin to protest. The burn starts as a whisper, then grows to a shout. I ignore it, force myself deeper. Pain is nothing. Discomfort is irrelevant. Only finding Isla matters.
The water around me feels different this deep. Heavier. Ancient. Like I'm swimming through liquid time, each stroke carrying me not just through space but through layers of history. These depths have witnessed things no living creature remembers. Secrets sleep here that predate human civilization.
My father brought me here once, when I was young and newly aware of what it meant to be guardian. He couldn't go this deep, but he showed me the beginning of the path, explained what lay below. The seal. The old evil. The responsibility that would one day be mine.
"The deep places are lonely," he told me. "And the deeper you go, the more alone you become. But that's the price of guardianship. Sometimes you have to descend into darkness, trusting that the way back still exists even when you can't see the light."
I'm living those words now. Descending into darkness with faith as my only compass. The surface is too far above to see anymore. Only black surrounds me, broken occasionally by bioluminescent fish that flash and vanish like underwater stars.
My bear can hold breath longer than any human, can dive deeper than most shifters, but even I have limits. My body is designed for land and sea both, but the extreme depths test even bear endurance. If Isla went too deep, if she's trapped down there or injured or?—
No. I can't think like that. She's selkie. The ocean is hers as much as it's mine. She can survive depths that would kill me.
But that doesn't mean she's safe.
My chest tightens, not from lack of air yet but from the crushing pressure of the depths. Every instinct screams to turn back, to surface, to breathe. I push through it. Trust my body to endure what my mind fears.
The water darkens as I descend. Surface light faded to twilight minutes ago, then to black. I navigate by feel and instinct, following the path my father taught me, the route every Hale guardian has memorized since the first of us took on this duty.
Something massive moves in the water ahead. Too large to be Isla in seal form. Too fast to be natural. My pulse spikes, adrenaline overriding the oxygen debt building in my blood.
Then I see the lights. Artificial illumination cutting through the darkness like wounds. Submersibles, hovering at depths that should be impossible for their design. Industrial equipment suspended by cables, drilling rigs mounted on platforms that shouldn't exist.
Carrick's real operation. The distraction on shore was exactly that—a distraction to keep us looking the wrong direction while he came straight for the seal from below.
Debris floats in the current. Torn cables, broken equipment, pieces of metal twisted like paper. Something happened here. Something violent.
Then I feel it. The seal. Ancient magic pulsing through the water, stronger than it should be after centuries of weathering. Fresh power woven through the original wards, new strength binding old protections.
Someone repaired it. Recently. Within the last hour.
