Page 114 of Whisper of Nightmares

Then it hits her.

The promise they made at the start of it all. That she would heed his instructions if they were ever in danger.

Euphemia’s fists clench at her sides. She can’t leave him like this. That was never meant to be part of their deal.

“I won’t be able to hold on much long,” he adds, his words gargling, the battle nearly lost. “She will rip me away and take me to shore. I will be fine. But you will be left here with the other maidens. You have to go.”

That thought stops her cold.

What other maidens are there if blood-haired is one of them?

Bone-sucking?

Tidal-drowning?

When she doesn’t move, he bellows a singular, “Go!”

And then he finally loses the battle.

Ash is ripped under the water with brutal swiftness.

Euphemia wants to cry out to him. To call out his name. To scream. But there is only hollowness in her throat.

She watches, helpless, as he is swallowed by the chaotic waves. Only a stream of shadow and bubbles to indicate where he’s going—and some small hope that he is, in fact, still breathing. Still being whipped through the ocean. Toward the shoreline. As he promised.

And Euphemia remembers she is alone. In an ocean. Haunted by water spirits or whatever they may be.

She does not intend to meet the other eight maidens.

Instead, Euphemia starts swimming—but for untrained limbs like hers, it’s more like thrashing and bobbing. She wades through waters already too deep.

Her feet kick uselessly. Her arms flail.

But as uncoordinated as it is, somehow she is moving.

The distant shoreline grows nearer.

The water slips below her chin. Her shoulders. Her ribs.

A wave sneaks up behind her and Euphemia only has a split moment to hold her breath while it takes her under.

The ocean tosses her around in its current, until she loses her bearings. Until she is dizzy and disoriented. Until the sea is just dark water and fractals of sunlight.

Euphemia follows the light.

She resurfaces with a gasp, her lungs already aching. Skirts weighing her down—unless that’s just the ocean grabbing her. The same way it grabbed Ash.

She can feel herself becoming lead.

No ocean floor beneath her.

Just sinking.

Barely able to keep her head above water.

Euphemia tears at the laces of her surcoat, grateful the bow was only tied once. The loop loosens easily, and then she’s clawing. Ripping the cord through grommets. Tearing the garment down her shoulders, her waist. Her legs kick free, letting it sink below.

And then she’s thrashing through the sea again. Limbs beating the water. Deep breaths bursting her lungs any chance she finds air.