Page 154 of Turncloak

In his horror, Levan let all the rockpool water crash down at once.

It all fell on the Sordai, and the ancient monster went under.

The cave was nearly a quarter full of water, and the only mage who could swim was in a coma-like state, his grip on the Fifth Prophecy loosening and then uncupping entirely.

Levan conjured another thin tendril of water, lassoed it around the relic wand, and yanked it into his own palm. Tucking it into his waistband, he hauled Miret’s mangled body over his shoulder and bellowed at Saffron to follow.

Waist-deep in water, Saffron and Levan waded toward the archway, knowing that somewhere around them swirled a scarshark hungry for flesh and a Sordai that could…do whatever it had done to Miret. Each desperate step took an eternity, heavy with water and swaying under the sheer force of the tide, the water gushing into the cave shoving them back and forth, side to side.

Somehow, they reached the archway between the two chambers, water up to their chests, normal steps becoming impossible. Because the first cave was smaller and lower than the second, it was almost entirely full of water.

“Don aquiss,” Levan incanted, voice ragged and weak now.

The water parted into two taller banks, creating a corridor through which they could run to the mouth of the cave, which was still flooding with the sea. The tide flowed into the cave and immediately separated into the two banks, but the banks were not solid, not steady. They tremored and wobbled under the strain of Levan’s magic, and Saffron knew he could not hold them for much longer.

Mercifully they reached the mouth of the cave—

—only to find that the rope they’d left hanging down was gone.

“Harrow,” growled Saffron, with all the ferality of a wild fallowwolf.

“No.” Levan shook his head frantically, whole body trembling. “Harrow is a coward, but he doesn’t want us dead.”

“Doesn’t he?” Saffron all but spat, thinking of how Harrow had, on many, many occasions, declared himself untrustworthy. It was easier to feel searing hatred for him than it was to feel the utter desolation of their situation.

“Maybe the rope fell after he escaped. Maybe it’s somewhere around here.”

There was the faintest scrap of magic left in Saffron’s well. She focused on the pain in her palms from scaling the craggy rocks, letting the burn penetrate the rush of fear and adrenaline. As the warmth grew into a hot, sharp sting, the magic in her well deepened and glowed like liquid gold.

She aimed her wand vaguely into the thrashing gray seawater, focusing her intent on the exact color and texture of the rope.

“Et convoqan,” she incanted, a simple summoning spell.

No rope rose to meet it.

She tried several times to no avail. Finally, desperately, she incanted another esilan at Levan’s boots, attempting to propel him and Miret high enough to clear the cliff, but they barely moved.

Her well was emptied.

Moments after her own magic ran out, so too did Levan’s.

They looked at each other, a thousand emotions passing from his blue eyes to her hazel. Tucking away his wand, he extended the hand not clutching Miret, and she took it. His skin was surprisingly warm in the freezing water.

Behind them in the cave, the banks of water crashed together, the force of which thrust against their backs and shoved them out into the icy, churning sea.

Saffron was plunged underwater, the cold and the salt stinging at her eyes and mouth, but she did not let go of Levan’s hand.

Many believed drowning to be a peaceful death, but when the will to live still burned so brightly, no death could be peaceful. The desire to save the world, to save Levan, was too strong. Save herself, her parents. There was so much still to do, and purpose beat through her like a heartbeat, that determination and meaning she’d found while fighting the Sordai in the cave.

Though she could not swim, she held on to life for as long as she could.

Her lungs burned from lack of air, muscles screaming.

The blue-gray of the water vignetted into black.

Save me, she screamed at all the Saints she had never quite believed in.

Save us.