Page 237

Then, blessedly, my senses rush back, and I can move again. My limbs once again start responding to my brain even as my skin prickles with icy fear and cold.

I squeeze my friend’s hand as soon as I can once again command my fingers to move. Two terrifying heartbeats pass before she squeezes me back, and I thank the Fates we’re both still alive.

I’m still underwater when I open my eyes and see Branwen already staring back at me. She looks like a mythical creature with her hair floating around her head and her expression tight with determination.

She points down, and I follow her gaze, realizing we’re about to touch the bottom of the lake. She taps my arm, points up at the surface, then starts counting down with her fingers.

Our feet hit the floor at the same moment she folds her final finger. Using what little momentum we have from the fall, we push off the bottom of the lake as hard as we can. The motion stirs up silt and debris, creating a billowing cloud of detritus that chases us like a shadow as we shoot toward the surface.

My lungs are screaming, aching for a single breath of air. My chest gets tighter and tighter until I'm sure I’m not going to make it. I force myself to ignore my body’s plea for oxygen, kicking toward the light above with a singular focus.

My head finally breaks the surface, and I gasp, greedily sucking down lungfuls of air. For the first time in what feels like hours, I let go of Branwen’s hand as we tread water and catch our breath.

We’re in the larger cavern, but this isn’t the lake from my dream like I thought it was. It’s more like an underground tunnel system. One I can only assume was carved out naturally by this river. It reminds me of a subway system, with smaller caves splitting off randomly from the main tunnel we’ve been spat out in.

With no idea where to go or what to do, I try to relax and let the now gentle current pull me along.

“Where are we?”

I wince as my voice echoes off the walls. Stalactites hang far above us, water dripping off their pointed tips.

Branwen doesn’t answer, too busy taking everything in with wide eyes. It’s dim in here, but not totally dark. A strange light seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, as though someone installed hidden recessed lighting.

Which is ridiculous, right?

I hear a splash and turn to see Branwen gasping, pointing at something behind me. My heart lurches, but I make myself look, spinning around and praying to the gods I’m not about to come face-to-face with some kind of giant rodent with teeth as long as my arm.

But there’s nothing there—just the curved wall extending nearly forty feet in the air.

“I don’t see anything. What is it?”

She paddles against the current until she’s next to me. “Right there. About ten feet up. See where the waterline ends?”

“Yes?”

“About two feet above that. All the way across. It’s faint, but those are⁠—”

“Paintings!” I can’t believe I didn’t notice them before. Then again, I was looking for a mutant creature that probably—please, gods—doesn’t even exist outside of my own nightmares.

The longer I look, the more details appear. These aren’t crude runes or symbols. They’re intricate, beautiful scenes painted in sparkling color and crisp, perfect lines. They’re so old they almost blend in with the natural discolorations along the wall, having faded to near non-existence after what must have been centuries of exposure to a damp environment.

We paddle toward the wall to get closer. The tunnel we’re in is about fifteen feet wide, and it's clear now that when the main tunnel collapsed, the water had nowhere else to go; it deposited us into an intricate cave system that must have originally been underground tunnels.

“Are those people?” I’m sure I can make out distinctive facial features and body shapes; I just wish the water would slow down a bit so I could get a better look.

“I think so,” she replies, biting her lower lip. “That one looks like a man on a throne? Three thrones? I can’t really tell from here.”

“Definitely people,” I murmur, studying the form of a tall man dressed in a flowing robe holding an open book aloft in one hand.

The farther along the river takes us, the clearer the paintings become. The light catches the stone just right, and right before my eyes, shapes begin to take form.

And, Fates… the scenes are otherworldly.

In one scene, figures with impossibly long hair and graceful limbs bend over fields full of food. More figures follow the first group; these crouch in the fields, hands plunged into the dirt. What’s most interesting is the expression of absolute serenity on their faces.

Next to them, another group stands off to the side. They are dressed in normal—if old-fashioned—roughspun clothes, holding sickles and baskets. As though preparing to gather massive amounts of food.

Further along, the scene changes into something more whimsical.