Fedlimid's fingers brushed Melite's wrist, a silent signal beneath the churning sea. His instincts screamed to get her higher, away from the slithering shadows still reaching hungrily below. They kicked upward through the cooler water, the light from above faint but growing. Each stroke pulled them farther from the collapsing ruins and the monstrous tendrils clawing the seabed.
The deeper they left it behind, the less the pressure clawed at their lungs, but the terror lingered, a heavy hand between their shoulder blades.
Melite glanced back once, her eyes catching the glint of scales and shredded robes below, the dark magic seeping like blood from a wound into the ocean.
Arthur and Aleks remained, choosing to meet the beast's awakening wrath head-on.
