Ch. 37
A few hours later, I take a deep breath as I stand on the edge of the platform, staring down into the inky blue depths of the Marble. The water looks deceptively calm, the surface almost too still, but I know better. Beneath that serene facade lies a labyrinth of treacherous currents, sharp rocks, and creatures that make nightmares seem tame.
Beside me, Peter is adjusting his gear, his expression serious as he double-checks everything. He’s been quiet since Lily assigned him to accompany me on this dive, but I can tell he’s just as tense as I am. “You ready for this?” he asks, glancing over at me.
I nod, though my heart is hammering in my chest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Peter gives me a small, encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, Phoebe. I’ve got your back. And besides, Wake’s on the far side of the Marble, hunting. We’ve got some time before he realizes we’re down here.”
The mention of Wake sends a shiver down my spine. I’m not sure if it’s fear, anticipation, or something else entirely. But there’s no room for hesitation now. I’ve made my decision, and there’s no turning back.
“Let’s do this,” I say, and without waiting for Peter’s response, I plunge into the water.
The cold hits me like a slap to the face, but I push past it, focusing on the steady rhythm of my breathing. I adjust the mask over my eyes and check my gear, making sure everything is secure before I start descending into the depths of the Marble.
The light from the surface fades quickly, replaced by a murky blue-gray that makes it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. I keep my movements slow and deliberate, scanning the area as I go. The Marble is a maze of jagged rocks and narrow passages, and it’s easy to get disoriented if you’re not careful.
Peter follows close behind, his presence a reassuring anchor in this alien world. We communicate with hand signals, keeping our movements synchronized as we explore the labyrinth.
Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of something darting through the water—a flash of silver, the ripple of a fin—but nothing that seems overtly threatening. Yet.
We’ve been exploring for about ten minutes when something catches my eye—a dark shadow moving just beyond the edge of my vision. I freeze, signaling to Peter to hold position as I strain to see what it is.
The shadow moves closer, and my heart skips a beat as I recognize the unmistakable shape of a shark. A big one.
Peter sees it too, his eyes widening behind his mask. He motions for us to back away slowly, but the shark has already noticed us. It turns, gliding toward us with a smooth, predatory grace that makes my blood run cold.
I don’t wait to see what it’ll do next. I kick off the rock beneath me and swim as fast as I can, adrenaline surging through my veins. Peter is right behind me, and I can feel the water churning as the shark gives chase.
The current is strong, pulling at me as I weave through the rocks, but I can’t afford to slow down. The shark is relentless, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed. I can almost feel its presence right behind me, the pressure of the water shifting as it gets closer.
There’s a narrow gap in the rocks up ahead—a small cave, just big enough for me to squeeze through. It’s risky, but I don’t have any other options. I dive toward it, twisting my body to fit through the tight space. I hear Peter shout something, but his voice is lost in the rush of water as I wedge myself into the cave, and completely lose sight of him.
For a moment, I think I’ve made it. The shark can’t follow me into the cave; it’s too big. But then I feel a sharp tug at my leg, and I realize with horror that my wetsuit has caught on something—probably a jagged piece of rock jutting out from the wall. I’m stuck.
I twist and pull, but the suit won’t budge. Panic starts to set in as I imagine the shark’s jaws closing around my leg, tearing through the neoprene with ease. I can hear it thrashing outside the cave, frustrated but undeterred. It’s not going to give up.
With no other choice, I start wriggling out of the wetsuit, the tight fabric resisting every inch of the way. The cave is dark, the walls pressing in on me from all sides, and I can feel the rough stone scraping against my skin as I struggle to free myself. Finally, with one last desperate yank, I slip out of the wetsuit and push it aside.
But in my haste, I’ve scratched myself on the rocks. I can feel the sting of the saltwater in the fresh cuts on my arms and legs. And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, I realize I’m not alone in the cave.
I turn my head slowly, my flashlight revealing a writhing mass of bodies—moray eels, coiled together like a living carpet. Their beady eyes glint in the light, their mouths opening to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth. They’re not attacking, but they’re far too close for comfort.
Trying not to panic, I push myself toward the far end of the cave, the eels shifting and slithering around me. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from screaming. When I finally reach the other side, I squeeze through another narrow opening and swim out into open water.
For a moment, I feel a surge of relief. I’m out. I’m free. But the relief is short-lived. The shark is waiting for me.
It circles slowly, its black eyes fixed on me, and I know there’s no way I can outswim it. My body is already screaming from exertion, my lungs burning with the effort of holding my breath. There’s no escape this time.
I brace myself, waiting for the inevitable. The shark turns, preparing to lunge, and I close my eyes, knowing that this is the end.
But the impact never comes.
Instead, I feel a rush of water as something slams into the shark, knocking it off course. My eyes fly open, and I see Wake, his powerful form coiled around the shark as they struggle in a violent whirl of motion. His scales glint in the dim light, and his claws tear through the shark’s flesh with terrifying ease.
I watch in stunned silence as Wake fights off the shark, his movements swift and brutal. In seconds, it’s over. The shark retreats, bleeding and defeated, while Wake hovers in the water, his eyes locking onto mine.
He doesn’t say anything, just grabs my arm and pulls me with him. I don’t resist—I can’t. My mind is too foggy, my body too weak. He leads me toward an underwater cave, the entrance hidden by a curtain of seaweed. I barely notice the journey, my thoughts still reeling from everything that’s happened.
When we reach the cave, Wake guides me to a craggy outcropping where the water meets an unexpected pocket of air. I gasp as I break the surface, taking in deep, shuddering breaths.
The air inside the cave is stagnant and cold, the walls slick with moisture. It’s pitch dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of bioluminescent algae clinging to the rocks.
I pull myself onto the outcropping, my body trembling from the cold and the adrenaline crash. Wake releases me and watches as I huddle against the wall, trying to regain some semblance of control.
“Wake,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me with an intensity that makes my heart race for a completely different reason. How do I always manage to forget just how alien he looks in his true form; how beautiful? Without a word, he turns and dives back into the water, leaving me alone in the cave.
“Wait!” I call after him, but it’s too late. He’s gone, the water rippling in his wake.
I’m left in the darkness, the chill seeping into my bones as I realize how alone I am. The cave is silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the stalactites above. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to stay warm, but the fear I’ve been holding back crashes over me like a wave.
I’m shaking uncontrollably, the darkness pressing in from all sides. I feel abandoned, vulnerable, and terrified. Wake saved me, but now he’s left me here—alone, cold, and frightened.
I don’t know how long I sit there, waiting, hoping he’ll return. But the minutes drag on, and the cave remains empty, the silence growing louder with each passing second.
Eventually, my mind can't take anymore of the sensory overload of being stranded in the dark.
True darkness comes for me, and I fall into it.
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