The chamber hums, and the water level dips just enough for Vini’s face to emerge. He gasps, eyes wide and desperate, sucking in air. “Oh… oh, fuck, bless you, Mr. Zayan,” he stammers.
I don’t answer. No time for this. My eyes are already on the next cages, on Gypsy and Fabien, still buried beneath the water.
I turn, and there she is, barely visible, her eyes locked on mine through the murky blue. Cheeks puffed out, holding her breath, but her stare—fierce, steady, defiant. Not a trace of fear, not a plea for rescue. Just that look, daring me to finish this.
Wouldn’t fucking dream of leaving her.
I dive back in, ignoring the ache in my lungs, fighting the chill as I push deeper, seeking that narrow fissure I’d found before. I thrust my hand in, fingers scrambling over stone and sand,hoping there’s something useful here. But there’s nothing. Just empty rock.
Damn it. I force myself down even further, ignoring the panic pricking at the edges of my mind. The current tugs harder here, like it’s trying to swallow me whole. But I keep going, pushing until my fingers scrape against something jagged—a shell maybe, or a chunk of coral shaped like a seahorse. Whatever it is, I tear it free and kick back toward the surface, lungs screaming.
It’s even harder this time around. I need to kick harder, utilize my entire body better. But I make it. I manage to swim back up.
When I break the surface, there’s no hesitation. Fabien’s face is barely visible, eyes squeezed shut beneath the water. Lips moving—probably muttering curses at every god he’s ever heard of. I slam the seahorse into the socket on his pillar. Another click, another pulse of light, brighter this time, spilling through the chamber.
The water level drops, and Fabien’s mouth opens, gulping air like he’s been reborn. He locks eyes with me, gratitude flashing across his face for a split second before he nods—like he knew I’d come through.
Two down. One to go.Theone.
Gypsy’s cage is still submerged, and I don’t waste a damn breath I have. I dive again, plunging down into the darkness. The pressure’s building in my ears, squeezing on my skull, but I push deeper, knowing I’m not leaving without her.
The thudding in my chest drowns out everything else, each beat racing me toward empty lungs, but then my fingers find it—a tiny sculpture, smooth as a pebble yet unmistakable in shape: a conch shell, carved with swirling lines that match the symbols on the cave walls.
I clamp my fist around it, pivot, and kick with everything I’ve got left. My lungs are a fire I can’t put out, and for one terrible second, I think I might not make it.
But I break the surface with one last gasp and slam the shell into Gypsy’s cage. I shove it into place, pressing until the final click echoes through the cave, pulsing brighter than ever, turning everything white.
The water drops fast, leaving us scrambling for footing Gypsy’s face appears, water pouring off her as she coughs and sputters. Her eyes snap open, glazed but fierce, and she clutches her heart, chest heaving.
All three cages rise up. Like it’s over. Like it’s done.
“Fuck,” I mutter, finally catching my own breath as I reach for her. I wrap an arm around her and ease her to the floor. She’s trembling, her face pale, hair slicked to her skin, but that glint in her eyes is as sharp as ever as she manages a weak smirk.
“You did it,” she croaks, voice scratchy. “Didn’t doubt you for a second.”
“Liar,” I say, half-grinning as I brush her hair back, my fingers lingering a moment longer than they should. My chest is still tight, the salt biting at my lips. “But I’ll let it slide.”
I hear clanking next to us as the others wrestle with their chains. Vinicola stumbles over, legs shaking, a wide, half-mad grin splitting his face. “Saints above, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”
Fabien, still sucking air, spits out a mouthful of water and swipes his face. “I sweat to everything, shut up, Vinicola. Or I’ll kill you myself.”
Gypsy’s already pushing herself up, fire back in her eyes as she scans the cave: the dark carvings, the drained pool, the empty sockets in the pillars. “Huh.” She points to something new—a narrow crevice, freshly revealed now that the water’s receded. A tight little tunnel leads out to the open island beyond. But right next to it…
“Well, would you look at that,” I manage to say, nodding toward the exit, where something sleek and slender catches thelight. It’s a spyglass—or at least itlookslike one, but there’s something off about it. The way it shimmers is almost too… perfect.
I pull Gypsy to her feet, brushing off her shoulder as she steadies herself. We edge closer, cautious, like we’re expecting the damn thing to spring to life. Gypsy reaches out and traces her fingers over the smooth surface, squinting as she makes out the faint line etched into the side.
“Congratulations on completing the Trial of Breath, little champions,” she reads. Then, she raises a brow, letting the words hang in the air. “Trial of Breath, huh?”
Without a second thought, she lifts it to her eye and peers through, and I catch the slight twitch in her jaw, the way her shoulders tense, like she’s just caught a glimpse of something she’d rather not. She lets out a sharp breath, muttering, “Well, fuck.”
“What is it?” I ask, stepping in a bit closer.
“It’s not a spyglass,” she replies. “It’s… I don’t know what it is. Looks like complete bullshit inside.”
Vinicola leans in, squinting as if he can see through it by proximity alone. “Bullshit inside? What does that even mean?”
Gypsy huffs, passing the thing to him. “Take a look for yourself. Tell me if that doesn’t look like nonsense wrapped up in metal.”
