CHAPTER 40: TO THE SURFACE

  Helel guided Suryel from his abode to hers.

  He did not rush her.

  That alone was notable.

  He kept one hand wrapped around hers, warm and steady, his thumb occasionally pressing small, grounding circles into the back of her palm whenever he felt her grip tighten too sharply.

  The other hand hovered close, ready to catch if her steps faltered.

  He spoke quietly as they walked, not filling the air with jokes the way he usually might, but offering low, steady commentary like a guide narrating a dangerous path.

  “Slow breaths.” Helel murmured, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “You’re doing fine. You’re already doing the hard part.”

  “The hard part is not screaming.” Suryel muttered, though she adjusted her breathing anyway, forcing air into her lungs through her nose, out through her mouth.

  Each step echoed in soft, hollow thumps, the sound bouncing back from walls that seemed to breathe with the rhythm of some hidden creature.

  The corridor felt alive in a way that made her skin itch, as though it were listening for missteps.

  The lapis lazuli corridor felt narrower and shorter than it should have been, its dimensions subtly wrong.

  The shadows slid across the walls like spilled ink, thickening where the light thinned.

  The golden pulse from above painted their steps in fractured patterns, twisting across the floor like warnings written in a language she almost understood.

  Suryel’s fingers unconsciously tightened around Helel’s hand.

  He squeezed back immediately.

  “I’ve got you.” He said without looking at her. “You’re not doing this alone.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

  The ceiling above rippled like liquid obsidian as they crossed the threshold back into her abode, the surface trembling faintly as though aware of their return.

  The black lake loomed overhead, vast and watchful, its mirrored depths swallowing light and giving nothing back.

  Helel guided her carefully to the edge of the bed and eased her down to sit.

  He crouched in front of her, movements efficient and deliberate, stripping away unnecessary layers.

  He folded and tucked sleeves back, minimizing drag, adjusting fabric so nothing would snag or pull once they were submerged.

  Suryel watched his hands, trying not to look up.

  The faint golden glow of the Star Bearing Tree filtered through the lake above. Every pulse of light dragged shadows with it, long and distorted.

  Every shadow felt like it could be a Shade, waiting just beyond perception.

  She shivered.

  The shadows didn’t only move in her sight.

  They tugged at her thoughts, stretched and coiled around her imagination, offering shapes that might not exist but felt real enough to hurt.

  Her stomach twisted, nausea curling low and slow.

  The water above didn’t feel passive. It felt aware. As if it were waiting for the moment she faltered.

  Every pulse of light reminded her of what Helel had said before.

  The surface isn’t just water.

  It’s a mirror.

  It reacts to her.

  Fear tightened in her throat.

  She startled when she felt something cool brush her wrist.

  Suryel looked down to see Helel tying a rope securely around her right wrist. The motion was practiced, careful, the knot snug but not biting into her skin. He tied the other end around his left wrist and gave it a small tug, testing the tension.

  The contact anchored her.

  Her breathing slowed enough for her to listen.

  Helel straightened and began to explain, his voice steady, his pauses intentional. The tone carried echoes of a certain commander’s cadence, but softened, shaped deliberately so it wouldn’t overwhelm her.

  “Once you touch the ceiling.” He said, gesturing upward, “The water will pull us in. It won’t hesitate. Its inevitable that the Shades will notice us.”

  He paused, watching her expression.

  “They’ll gather.” He continued. “Curious. Like little fishes.”

  Suryel snorted despite herself, crossing her arms as she sat there. “Fishes don’t swarm. Unless it’s to feed.”

  She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone.

  Helel winced theatrically. “Okay. Okay.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed. “Fine. Think sharks instead.”

  Her stare intensified.

  “Curious sharks.” He amended quickly.

  “Think less classroom.” He added back to back. “Fishes can be polite. Sharks too.”

  Helel sweat-dropped as he knelt to remove her shoes, handling her feet with surprising gentleness.

  “You’re impossible.” She dropped her glare but continued to stare.

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  “You’ll love me.” He said automatically. “You know you already do.”

  He hesitated for half a second too long before he continued. “They’ll try to tap into your fear,” He said, voice shifting into something firmer. “So stay calm. Don’t let them rattle you. You’ve got this. And I’ve got you.” A beat. “I’ll do the swimming.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a small knot of tension loosened in her chest. Humor cracked the fear just enough to let her breathe.

  “I will keep you safe.” Helel said, meeting her gaze as he tucked both shoes and his cloak into a slit of folded space. “I promise.”

  He straightened with a wide grin. “Ready?”

  “I’ll never be ready.” Suryel said honestly as she stood barefoot on the stone. “But I trust you.”

  They shook out their arms, rolling shoulders, loosening joints.

  Helel hoisted her onto his shoulder with practiced ease.

  Her muscles tensed instantly.

  He felt it.

  He adjusted his grip, steadying her weight, grounding her against him.

  “Ready, Helel?” She asked, hand stretching toward the ceiling, fingers trembling.

  He held her firmly by the leg. “Whenever you are.”

  “Three… two… one.” She counted.

  They inhaled together.

  Suryel tapped the miasma.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

  Then the ceiling rippled like water struck by a stone.

  Gravity seized them violently, yanking them upward as the surface gave way.

  Their view of the world roared as underwater currents collided, twisting into violent spirals that slammed against them from every direction.

  Helel wrapped one arm around her wrist, hauling her close to his chest, his other arm locking around her waist.

  He kicked hard, forcing them free of the worst of the current and angling them toward the distant glow above.

  Below them, shapes moved.

  Suryel’s eyes snapped downward as a silvery glint caught her attention.

  The Shades.

  They saw her.

  The swarm shifted, curiosity sharpening into pursuit.

  Cold water bit into her skin, the sensation intertwining with her dread until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Her body felt impossibly heavy, the pressure crushing, her breath burning in her chest.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Helel’s arm.

  I’m slowing him down.

  The thought stabbed deep.

  The Shades surged faster, responding to her fear like blood in water.

  Helel assessed the distance in a glance.

  They wouldn’t make it.

  Decision snapped into place.

  He let go.

  Her eyes flew open.

  The rope between them floated upward, tension easing as the water carried it.

  They looked at each other.

  Helel smiled, soft and reassuring, even as his hand slipped into his pocket dimension.

  The dagger flashed once in the dim light—

  One clean downward motion.

  The rope parted.

  An air bubble escaped her lips as she gasped reflexively.

  She reached for him, fingers brushing fabric, trying to replace the severed anchor with her grip.

  He grabbed her ankle instead.

  And shoved.

  All his strength went into it.

  As the Shades caught his feet, their cold hands wrapping around him, Suryel broke the surface.

  She burst into air with a strangled gasp, lungs screaming as she sucked in breath after breath.

  Helel’s instructions echoed in her mind, cutting through the panic.

  She rolled onto her back, spread out, let the buoyancy hold her.

  She paddled awkwardly, arms rowing, legs kicking.

  Ahead, the Star Bearing Tree loomed, radiant and impossible.

  She fixed her gaze upward, forcing calm through mantra and motion.

  “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.” She muttered and breathed.

  Without realizing it, she did.

  She flipped forward and grabbed an exposed root as the water shallowed, hauling herself onto the slick surface.

  Relief crashed over her in a wave so strong it made her laugh breathlessly.

  “Helel! We made it like you promised!” She called, beaming and turning back.

  There was nothing.

  No splash.

  No arm.

  No teasing voice.

  The lake lay smooth and silent.

  Cold punched into her gut.

  “Hel… el?” Her voice wavered.

  The water rocked her knees gently, deceptively calm.

  She waited.

  Counted breaths.

  Held her breath for sixty seconds.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Nothing.

  Her fingers dug into the root until pain flared.

  It was too quiet.

  Too wrong.

  He promised.

  Her gaze dropped to the rope drifting nearby, its red dye bleeding into the water.

  Her scream tore across the lake.

  “HELEL!”

  Understanding slammed into place.

  “You said we’d get out!” She snarled, voice shaking with fury. “You said I’d get home.”

  Then, quieter. Deadlier.

  “No. You only… promised… that you’d keep me safe.”

  Anger burned hot and sharp.

  “They said never to trust the shadows.” She muttered, teeth clenched. “They omit. They lie. They offer comfort…”

  “… while hiding intent beneath the surface, you’ll only hear what you wanted.” She finished bitterly.

  A memory surfaced.

  Of a child dissipating into light, speaking.

  Find Helel. Don’t let him drown.

  Her eyes hardened.

  She climbed the roots, refusing the ending handed to her.

  Below the surface—

  Helel slammed into the current.

  The Shades wrapped around him like living ink, cold hands clawing, not tearing, not biting. Holding. Keeping. Laughing silently.

  His lungs burned.

  Pressure screamed.

  He kicked, once, twice.

  The water was heavier here.

  Thick with memory.

  “Good.” He thought dimly. “She’s up.”

  His vision dimmed.

  “That’s all that mattered.”

  He closed his eyes.

  Author’s Note:

  *Sips coffee.* Hmm…

  *Types* Google, How do you explain survival swimming strokes to a child?

  BTW Three times she had held her breath for a minute. 3 minutes is how long it takes for a typical human to start drowning.

  *Winks*