I steady my breath, muscles taut. The thing’s so close now, I can feel the tremors it leaves in the water, a rumbling that practically shakes my bones. I tighten my grip on the sword, eyes on the beast’s massive head. I’ve got one shot at this—wherever the hell I’m supposed to aim.
It lunges, and I twist just in time, feeling its bulk skim past me, a force so powerful it’s like a current trying to drag me straight into its jaws.
Fuck.
But if there’s one bright spot here, it’s that I’m the one dealing with this beast, not Gypsy or the crew. As long as I just keep it up and somehow manage to bring them the sand, I won’t have any regrets, no matter what happens.
I grit my teeth, pushing down the instinct to panic as it circles back, black eyes fixed on me like I’m its last meal. My mindraces, searching for any plan, any advantage, but let’s be honest: it’s just me, a sword, and whatever guts I can muster.
Alright, Zayan…time to make history or feed the fish.
I go limp, letting myself drift just a little, loosening my grip on the sword as though I’m struggling to stay afloat. I release the breath I’m holding, as though I’m struggling to stay conscious. It wouldn’t work on a normal shark. They don’t understand such things. But maybe this one…?
The shark slows its circling, perhaps sensing an opportunity.
Then it surges, mouth wide open. At the last second, I twist, using its own momentum to propel myself up and over its ugly head. With everything I’ve got, I bring the sword down.
The blade scrapes along its hide—a scratch more than anything—but it’s enough. The beast jerks back, startled, and I can’t help but grin. These things have sensors packed around their heads; a heartbeat, a flick of the fin, they sense it all. So while I didn’t give him something to cry home about, I’ve put him off balance.
Two minutes. That’s all I need to break the surface, grab a breath, and go for the sand again.
I can only hope it will be enough.
I take my chance, pushing myself upward. Cold air slams into me as I hit the surface, filling my lungs like I’m breathing for the first time. Voices call out from the pillar, distant and drowned by the roar of the waves and my own heartbeat.
I turn, searching for the pillar and spot them clinging to the stone.
“Thanks for the sword, Rancour!” I shout, swimming over, panting.
“Appreciate the sword, Rancour!” I shout, cutting through the water toward them. I toss the sword back, catching Rancour’s baffled look before diving back in.
As I go under, I hear him yell, “We think we need one more!”
One more dive. Alright. Got it.
Again, I don’t let myself glance Gypsy’s way. I could feel her eyes boring into me when I surfaced. I could also hear the gasp of relief she made. It made my heart warm in the iciness of it all. But my fight is not over yet, and I don’t want to find myself drowning in those brown depths of hers.
There’ll be time for that afterward.
I grit my teeth on the seashell, setting myself for the dive. This time, the descent feels longer, heavier, like the water’s closing in faster. There’s definitely more of it this time—keeps pouring in down here, though it doesn’t seem like it at the surface.
Pressure builds, twisting and grinding down. Haven’t even reached the seabed, and already my ears are threatening to split open.
Come on, Zayan. One more. Just one more dive.
Truth is, I’ve never really figured out my limits. Can’t say I ever cared to. I know I can hold my breath for a solid nine minutes—longer than most. But how deep can I go? That’s more of a play-it-by-ear situation.
Roche used to bark warnings at me, lecturing on safety as if he hadn’t been the one who shoved me in the water the first chance he got. “Don’t push too far, boy.” he’d say. “You never know your breaking point until you’re alone at the bottom.”
Even now, sinking into the dark, I don’t know if I’ll make it back. Not sure how much further I need to go, either. But I’ve always been good at testing limits. So I streamline, tilt my head down, tongue pressed just behind my teeth, waiting for that pop in my ears—the only sign I’m not about to get crushed.
Then there it is: the seabed, stretching out like an endless, shadowy monster waiting to swallow me whole. I plunge my hands into the sand, hoping this’ll be the last damn time for a while, and grab as much as I can. My fingers go numb, but I cramit into the shell, pockets, into my very fists. Anything. As long as I take the most I can.
And just as I kick off, a sharp pain spikes through my nose, followed by a burst of warmth.
Ah, hell.
Diving down here is one thing. Fighting a shark? Another. But sinking this deep with a bloodied nose and one of those oversized nightmares lurking somewhere nearby? Brilliant, Zayan. Absolutely brilliant.
