Grasping the chain, I begin my descent. Darkness immediately wraps around me, thick like a black blindfold. My eyes are fixed on the faint light above, and my hands move slowly and deliberately.
It’s harder than anticipated. My muscles burn, and my palms sweat, causing me to slip a couple of times, ripping nails in the frantic search for purchase. The lack of light and sound paints terrifying images in my mind—ancient, monstrous creatures lurking in bottomless underground lakes.
Then the chain rattles again, louder this time. A screech echoes from above. My heart leaps into my throat as I realize what’s happening—the old mechanism is breaking, unable to hold the weight of two. When I open my mouth to shout a warning to Aeidas, it’s already too late.
I’m falling.
There’s no time to think, no time to panic. The icy water hits me like a wall, its coldness immediate and brutal. It fills my nose and mouth, piercing me with a thousand needles, pressing against my chest like a vise. I fight the instinct to gasp for air—a death sentence. My limbs flail desperately, searching for something, anything, to grab onto.
But there’s nothing. Only the relentless, biting cold.
I open my eyes, but the darkness is profound, impenetrable, as if I’ve been swallowed by the ether before the Elders created the stars. The weight of the water is crushing me, pulling me down into the abyss. Hope fades, and my self-control shatters. My mouth opens in a terrified scream, my last breath escaping in a torrent of bubbles, swallowed by the dark mass of water around me.
Kicking and thrashing, I fight the inevitable. The cold is a merciless enemy, sapping my strength. Just as the last bubble and last remnant of hope leave my lips, something grabs me. A powerful force—an arm or a tentacle—wraps around my chest, yanking me upward with superhuman strength. Or is it pulling me down? Everything spins in a maelstrom of terror, and then something solid slams against my legs. I’m dragged over a rocky shore. The sharp edges of the stones cut through my pants, biting into my flesh, but it doesn’t matter.
Breathe!
“Breathe, Talysse, breathe!”
Hard ground. I roll onto all fours, coughing and spitting out water, gasping for air. The air burns my lungs, but it’s life. Slowly, I sit back on my heels, my breathing erratic but steadying. Only then do I look up to see what—or who—saved me from drowning.
Before me, in the haunting light of the two wisps, stands Aeidas. Strands of wet silver hair stick to his face, and his chest rises rapidly under the shirt; the wet fabric clings to his muscled torso.
Of course, that cursed Unseelie catches me staring.
“You like what you see?” he asks, panting.
“You’ve lost your jerkin.” I shrug and take my boot off to drain the water. Anything to keep my mind—and eyes—off this chiseled torso. “Why did you save me? Did I infect you with some disease unnatural for your kind, like conscience?”
“Don’t make me change my mind, human.” His words are dark, but his lips stretch into a smile in the cold light of the wisps. My trembling hand pats the pocket with the Flint. Elders, it’s still there.
“I will not rob you. This is your area of expertise.” Aeidas crouches next to me, studying my face from too close. Too damn close to this rugged plane of rippling muscles. “How do you feel?” he murmurs, his eyes softening.
How do I feel after nearly drowning? After walking, climbing, running, and fearing for my life for a small eternity? The air in the cavern is warm, so there’s at least that, but my body desperately needs rest.
But he’s not getting the satisfaction of mocking my human fragility.
Instead, I just scoff, give him a thumbs up, and slip my wet boots back on. It’s terribly uncomfortable, but being dead is even worse. His eyes, capturing and reflecting the scarce light, linger on me.
“Thank you. For…you know.” The soft words slip unexpectedly. He remains silent for a long moment, then looks away and pushes himself to his feet.
“Very well,” Aeidas declares, resuming his cold and commanding demeanor. “Let’s go then. The water drains this way. I am sure there must be a way out somewhere here.”
My feet are burning, and my head hurts as I follow him, stumbling on the rocks in the vast cavern holding the lake. The fatigue burns in my eyes and slurs my speech. I desperately need some sleep. But how to fall asleep with the world’s deadliest predator at my side?
Aeidas walks with confidence, his dark clothes blending with the shadows around him. His broad back tapers into a lean waist. Even in plain clothes, there’s an effortless grace to him. Despite his simple appearance, there’s a power about him that doesn’t need anything extra to be felt.
Following the underground creek, we’ve lost track of time. My boots are still wet, making funny squelching sounds with each step, but my hair is almost dry, draping down my back as a warm shawl.
A soft glow coming from somewhere ahead reflects on the moist stone walls. We rush forward, hoping for a way out—
And we step into another world.
Glowing mushrooms in tender pastel colors hang from the walls of the cave chamber while veins of crystal sparkle in the rocks, capturing and multiplying the light. The damp earthy scent lingers, and drips of water mingle with the babbling of the creek.
“What is this place?” I ask, unable to move. Elders, there are really wonders in the Wastelands!
“This, little human thief, is a miracle of Cymmetra!” His entire posture changes. Gone is the hinted menace in his gait and the determined line of his shoulders, replaced by a child-like wonder. I lean closer to get a better look at the blue-shimmering mushroom he’s admiring. It has a long, translucent cap and a graceful stalk shrouded by a veil-like ring. It’s beautiful and glowing, definitely the first of its kind I’ve ever seen, but to call it a miracle…
