I take the seashell from his fingers and notice that it looks different from before. There are no longer little holes in it, and the outer edges are longer, making it more curved. It’s clearly shifted so I can dive and bring sand back on it.
“Good,” I mutter, stealing one last look at Gypsy. “I’ll dive. You three focus on reaching the hourglass.”
Our gazes lock. She knows as well as I do that there’s no room for heroics here, just cold logic. I’m the safe bet, and we both know it.
“Be careful,” she says, voice as sharp as it is soft. “And come back. We can’t do this without you.”
The urge to sayI can’t do this without youclaws its way up my throat, but I only nod, swallowing hard. “Count on it,” I say with a crooked grin. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Then, one last deep breath—and I plunge into the water. The ocean and I have gone a few rounds before, but this time, the stakes are higher. Much higher.
Down here, it’s darker than a pirate’s soul, the light from above snuffed out in seconds. I kick hard, forcing myself to descend deeper, eyes scouring the murk for any sign of that sand. The pressure builds in my ears, and the cold is nearly too much to handle, but I force myself to ignore it.
Still, I didn’t realize how deep the water runs here. Thought I’d only be fighting my way through three body lengths, maybe four. But it’s more than that. Much more.
I’m not making it without both hands, so I clamp the seashell between my teeth. It’s awkward, but it works, freeing me to claw my way downward.
The pressure’s ruthless. By the time my fingers dig into the sand, my head’s throbbing, my ears feel like they’ll split. But if it were anyone else, they’d have drowned by now.
I scoop a handful of sand, stuffing it into the shell and clutching it to my chest so it won’t slip out with the current. With a hard kick, I launch myself toward that glint up top—the teasing light of the surface.
My lungs are fire, my head’s pounding, but hell if I’ll let that stop me. How many more dives can I pull off like this? Maybe two, three if I’m feeling especially stupid. Anything beyond that, and I’m on the menu for the nearest fish.
Endurance isn’t my game, not usually—except down here, in the water. But even I can feel it now, that tight burn telling me I’m pushing the line. And yeah, maybe that’s the point. That’s what the goddess wants.
I kick hard, forcing my way up. And when I see it—the world above in a blurred glow—damn, it’s surreal. It’s always surreal. No matter how many times I’ve broken the surface from the edge of blacking out, it never fails to hit. It’s the second most beautiful sight in this world. Second, because nothing beats my girl sprawled out for me to worship.
The water around me is an endless press of darkness, all-consuming, but above, there’s that faint glimmer of light weaving in patterns, almost like starlight. Just out of reach.
Still, the swim is torturous.
Then, just when I swear my lungs might explode, I burst through the surface. I gulp down air like a damn lifeline, feeling the rush flood through me, dragging me back from the brink.
“Here!” I shout, holding up the shell packed with sand. My voice is weak, but it carries across the water to where Gypsy and the others are clinging to the pillar.
Fabien is right there to take the seashell from me. He swims to the gouge, extends his arm and spills the contents inside. Thepillar grinds down, bit by bit—barely enough to see, just enough to remind me this is all part of the grind.
It’s gonna need more.
“Zayan.” Gypsy’s voice cuts through, quieter, sharper. “I need you to listen to me—very carefully. And you cannot panic, okay?”
Panic? The hell? Panic is the last thing on my mind. But her tone? That’s enough to have every nerve on high alert. Something’s definitely wrong.
“Please, Miss Captain…” Vinicola whimpers like he’s on the verge of melting.
“Shut it, Vini,” she snaps. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word.”
I try to take it all in, scanning every inch of this mess. Air barely filters back in as I take stock, my instincts firing up. What the hell’s going on here?
Vinicola stays pressed against the pillar, forehead practically glued to the stone, hiding like looking away will save him. Fabien, just beside him, clenches his jaw. His eyes dart left, right, quick and wary, like he’s waiting for something to hit.
Gypsy, though—her voice is calm, but it puts my nerves on edge in all the wrong ways. If anything, she’s making the little hairs on my neck stand out. “What’s going on?” I ask, keeping my voice low as I shift, moving as little as possible.
Her eyes flick behind me, a flash of fear she barely hides. “Something’s in the water with us,” she says, steady but barely. “Something big. It’s been circling since you went down to grab that sand.”
Right. Okay. So something’s out there.
“What is it?” I ask, tension coiling tight in my gut.
