The ley energy is drawing them, holding them, keeping them fixed in this pattern like insects caught in amber. The pull drags at me now too—a magnetic force that wants to tug me closer to the convergence point, to the place where all those golden threads meet and twist together.
I kick hard, putting distance between myself and the formation. Need to surface. Need to radio Calder with this information. This isn't just an anomaly; this is a threat. If the ley lines are corrupted this far from Redwood Rise, what else has been affected?
The radio static fills my ear as I try to transmit. "Calder, are you receiving? The convergence point is corrupted. Something's?—"
The transmission cuts out. Dead air. Not even static now, just silence broken only by my breathing through the regulator and the distant calls of the trapped orcas.
The ley energy is interfering with the signal.
I surface long enough to gulp air and reorient myself. The boat rocks steadily fifty yards away, right where I left it.Afternoon sun hangs low, painting the water copper and gold. From up here, everything looks peaceful. Normal.
The contrast between surface calm and what's happening below makes my skin crawl.
The smart move would be swimming back to the boat, radioing for help, letting Calder handle this from shore with proper equipment and backup.
But that's not how Hayes men operate. We don't retreat when our territory is threatened, and these waters are as much mine as the forests are Calder's.
I check my tank gauge—still three-quarters full—and descend again.
The convergence point burns brighter than before, as if my presence activated something. The golden threads pulse faster, weaving together in patterns that hurt to look at directly. The bear surges against my control, wanting to shift, wanting the strength and power of our other form.
Not yet. Not underwater. Even grizzlies have limits.
I reach for a sample container, trying to collect some of the water closest to the formation. My hands shake as the ley energy washes over me. Not gentle like the lines beneath Redwood Rise. This feels hungry. Desperate.
The convergence point explodes.
One moment it's glowing, pulsing, broken. The next moment power erupts through the water, sending shockwaves that hit me like a physical blow. The pressure wave tumbles me backward. Equipment tears free from my belt. My regulator rips from my mouth.
And then the vortex opens.
Water spirals inward, creating a massive whirlpool centered directly on the convergence point. I kick hard, fighting against the current, trying to reach the surface that's suddenly impossibly far away. My lungs burn. My vision tunnels.
The ley energy wraps around me like chains.
The bear panics, tries to shift. The transformation begins—fur erupting across my skin, bones starting to reshape—but the ley energy disrupts everything. I'm caught between forms, neither human nor grizzly, vulnerable in ways I've never experienced.
The vortex pulls harder.
I have one desperate second to reach across the distance toward home, toward family. The mental cry tears out of me with everything I have left:Calder. Eli. Beau. Sawyer.
Their names feel like prayers. Like the last words I might ever speak.
The ley lines are broken. Something's coming through. Find me.
And then I see her.
Just a flash in the chaos—a woman's face I've never seen but recognize with the certainty that lives in bone marrow. Dark hair whipping in wind I can't feel. Eyes fierce enough to match my own. A strength that calls to something primal in me.
Mine.
The word echoes through both man and bear. My mate. My future. The one I didn't even know I was searching for until this exact moment when I'm being torn away from any chance of finding her.
The ley energy tears me through the convergence point, and the world splits apart.
I expect water. Ocean. The familiar pressure of the Pacific around me.
Instead, I slam into stone. Dry stone.
