“You okay?” Nes called. Her voice bounced off the walls, her concern layering in the echoes.
“Yes, keep going!”
She obliged, extending the rope until his bare feet skimmed water. He hissed. It felt like ice.
On instinct, he tried to pull himself back up the rope, but Nes continued to let out the slack. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was allowing her to lower him to his death.
“There yet?”
Yes, he almost said.Pull me back up before I shake the very skin off my bones.
“Almost!” he managed between the clatter of teeth.
The water crept over his knees, slithering along his thighs, consuming his hips. It reached for his stomach, dipping inside the dark of his belly button, before continuing its assault on his body. He gasped as the water devoured his chest. His heart turned as frantic as his breaths.
“I’m in!”
He stopped moving, the rope taut above him. Goddess, the water was so much worse. He had to swim. Swim before either of them died. He located the tunnel leading to the well.
“Ready?” Nes’s voice was a call across canyons, all at once far away and as clear as the water he floated in. “Toran?”
“Yeah,” he called back. “Don’t forget our signals. I’ll be back soon.”
One sharp tug on her end, she was getting low on slack. Two, too much time had passed and she was pulling him up. One on his end meant he needed more rope. Two, pull him up. Three, he had Genna, and Nes had better start yanking them both the hell up before the water claimed them.
The rope fell a bit as Nes loosened her grip. He couldn’t avoid the tunnel any longer. It might have already been too long. He didn’t know what he would do if he got to the other end to find Genna dead in the water.
He shook his head.
As he swam, the top of his hair skimmed the rounded ceiling overhead. The occasional bob of his body had him knocking his skull on stone. But the pain was nothing compared to the cold. His muscles ached with every stroke, his teeth chattering so hard he was sure they’d fall from his mouth. He tried listening for the sounds of Genna’s labored breaths, but his own took up too much space. There wasn’t room in his ears to hear anyone other than himself.
Light, dim but clear, shone like a beacon at the end of the tunnel. The surface. The well. He was almost there.
Pushing his arms and legs, he surged forward before dropping into the depth of the Witch’s Well. He blinked at the sudden light—everything brighter than the black of the tunnel—and settled his gaze upon the girl opposite him.
Genna gripped the stones lining the well with bloodied fingertips, lines of deep red marring the rock like streaks of rain on glass. The water obscured everything below her knees, but he knew the chains locked around her ankles were there. He couldn’t fathom the strength it musthave taken her to hold herself up by her fingertips for this long. He also couldn’t tell if she was breathing. She wasn’t so much as shaking.
“Genna?”
Seconds passed, and he wondered if she was still alive. Then slowly, as if drugged, her head turned toward him. He rushed forward as her fingers slipped, her body sinking into the frigid water. He wrapped an arm around her torso and kicked his feet to keep them both afloat, hissing at their contact. She felt no better than the icy water swirling around them. Her eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.
“No!” he shouted, not caring if anyone above heard. He doubted they would. The crowd was still too busy cheering, the sound distant and foreboding, like they were cheering on death. He supposed they were.
“Genna, you have to stay awake.”
Her lips opened, a mumbled sound escaping, but nothing he could understand.
He could ask her forgiveness later. Raising his free hand, he slapped her across the cheek. Her eyes flew open, her breathing turning to gasps.
“Genna!”
She blinked furiously, still fighting sleep. Still fighting death.
“Are you with me?”
She nodded. Good.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to get us out, but you have to stay awake. Do you understand?”
