Loch Ness, Scotland:
* * *
Dolph spun in tight, frantic circles, his heart pounding harder than the current pressing against his body. His hands cut through the thick, icy water as he twisted, searching the void below, above, around. Shadows danced in every direction, stretching longer and darker the deeper he looked.
"Zohar? Juno?" he called.
The water swallowed everything.
Then—
A muted rumble vibrated through the depths above.
He shot upward. His powerful kicks sliced cleanly through the water, aided by his silent command to the water to propel him faster toward the surface.
Shapes appeared in silhouette—blurred and foreign. The glimmer of metal, a flash of color. The distorted outline of a boat.
And then?—
Juno.
A human held onto Juno, a bright red float keeping them on the surface as the human kicked them both toward a boat. Then Juno was being tugged upward by the humans gathered at the edge of the boat. Voices echoed above the surface—garbled by the water, but filled with alarm.
Dolph’s stomach dropped.
This was Juno’s first time through a portal.
And I brought him here, Dolph thought bitterly. He’s my responsibility.
A sharp pain lanced through his chest as guilt flooded him. His brother was in danger—surrounded by strangers on a foreign world.
And Zohar…
The bubble he had created would only last so long. It had a finite amount of air. Magic or not, it wasn’t meant to survive deep-water pressure for too long—not without reinforcement.
If he didn’t find Zohar soon, the bubble could collapse.
Zohar could suffocate.
He squeezed his eyes shut, torn.
“Hang on, Juno,” he whispered to the water. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
He reached out to the surrounding currents and summoned the nearest coil of rope tethered to the boat. The fibers slithered through the water toward him like obedient snakes. He grabbed the rope, swam toward the stern, and expertly tied it around the propeller, weaving it tight in a sailor’s knot. Not a permanent fix—but it would delay them.
He needed time.
With a last glance at the flickering surface above, Dolph turned and dove.
Down into the dark.
Down into the cold.
The light vanished almost immediately, swallowed by the weight of the loch. Loch Ness was no ordinary lake. It was deep—bottomless in parts. Ancient.
The temperature continued to drop with every meter. His skin, protected against the colder waters, shivered all the same. His muscles tightened, but he pressed on. Every powerful stroke of his arms and kick of his legs pushed him deeper into the pressurized silence.
Zohar, where are you?
