Lucian continued to swim downward—his body slicing through the grey water as if in slow motion. The cold bit his skin like fangs, but he didn't shiver. He didn't even notice.
Because he couldn't feel the cold.
Couldn't think.
Not really.
His mind was fogged over, trapped in a waking dream. Every thought dulled, every instinct smothered beneath a strange, pulsing stillness. All he could hear was a whisper—quiet and thunderous at once- a voice that wasn't quite a voice, echoing from somewhere far beneath his thoughts.
"Swim deeper."
It repeated over and over, like a lullaby whispered through bone. Lucian obeyed without resistance. It didn't even occur to him to question the voice. In his fogged state, it felt like the desire was his own.
He kicked downward again.
Below him, shadows stirred.
Massive.
Terrifying.
They slithered through the murk like ancient beasts half-asleep, their forms impossible to define. Their outlines were so large that the ocean felt like a pond.
