The water hit like a wall.
Aurelion felt the force of it—cold, crushing, absolute. The bubble of air collapsed, the pressure returning in an instant, and he was thrown backward, his body tumbling through the dark.
He tried to grab onto something. Anything. His fingers scraped against stone, caught nothing, slipped. The shards inside him pulsed wildly, their light flickering as he spun through the water.
The current was too strong. The water was too fast.
He was being pulled away from the chamber, away from the pyramid, away from them.
"Ami!" he shouted.
No answer. Just the rush of water and the distant echo of his own voice.
"Corrin! Kael!"
Silence.
He was swept through the city, past buildings and plazas, past symbols that glowed faintly in the dark. The structures blurred past him—spires and pyramids, streets and courtyards, all of it dark and silent and waiting. He crashed into a wall, bounced off, spun through a plaza. His shoulder slammed into a stone column. His head cracked against a step.
The shards inside him pulsed, casting pale light on the walls, but it wasn't enough to slow his momentum. He couldn't stop. He couldn't hold on. He could only let the current carry him.
Breathe, he told himself. Stay calm. Stay alive.
The water grew colder. The light grew dimmer. The buildings faded into the dark.
He was being pulled out of the city, away from the structures, away from the safety of the ruins.
Into the open sea.
He broke the surface gasping, his lungs burning, his vision swimming.
The sky was dark. The stars were out. The water stretched in every direction, endless and empty. No platform. No submarine. No sign of the others.
He was alone.
He floated in the water, his body aching, his mind racing. The shards inside him pulsed, warm and steady, keeping him alive. But the cold was seeping through his clothes, through his skin, into his bones. He had been in the water for too long. He needed to get out. He needed to find land. He needed to find them.
I need to find them, he thought. I need to get back.
He looked around, trying to get his bearings. There was nothing—just water and sky and the distant horizon.
He started to swim.
The hours blurred together.
Aurelion lost track of time. The water was cold, the current was strong, and his body was exhausted. The shards kept him warm, kept him moving, kept him alive. But he was tired. So tired.
His arms burned. His legs ached. His lungs screamed for air. He had been swimming for what felt like hours—maybe longer. The sun had set and risen and set again. He didn't know. He couldn't tell.
He thought about Ami. About Corrin. About Kael. He hoped they had made it out. He hoped they were safe. He hoped they were looking for him.
He kept swimming.
Dawn broke over the horizon.
Aurelion saw it first—a faint light on the water, growing brighter as the sun rose. He squinted, his eyes burning, his body aching. The light reflected off the waves, creating a shifting landscape of gold and silver.
And then he saw it.
A shape. Low and dark, bobbing on the waves.
A boat.
He swam toward it with the last of his strength, his arms screaming, his lungs burning. The boat grew larger as he approached—a small fishing vessel, its hull weathered, its nets still trailing in the water. No crew. No signs of life. Just an abandoned vessel, drifting alone on the endless sea.
He reached the hull, grabbed onto a rope, and pulled himself up. His arms gave out. He collapsed on the deck, gasping, bleeding, alive.
He lay on the deck, staring at the sky.
Alive, he thought. Still alive.
He closed his eyes.
When he woke, the sun was high.
The boat was still drifting. The water was still endless. The horizon was still empty.
He pushed himself up, his body aching, his mind groggy. The shards inside him pulsed, steady and warm, their light faint beneath his skin.
He looked around the boat. Supplies—a few ration bars, a water cask, a compass. No radio. No signal flares. No engine. Just the wind and the waves and the endless, empty sea.
I'm stranded, he thought. Alone. In the middle of the ocean.
With nothing but the shards and a dying boat.
He touched his chest. The shards pulsed in response.
I'll find a way back, he thought. I always do.
He searched the boat more thoroughly.
There was a small cabin below deck—a cramped space with a bunk, a table, and a few scattered belongings. A photograph of a family. A worn-out coat. A fishing rod.
No radio. No maps. No flares.
He was alone.
He sat on the deck, staring at the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The water lapped gently against the hull.
The others, he thought. Are they looking for me?
Do they think I'm dead?
Will they find me?
He didn't have answers. He didn't have anything. Just the shards and the sea and the endless, empty sky.
He closed his eyes.
The nights were cold.
Aurelion huddled in the cabin, wrapped in the worn-out coat, the shards inside him pulsing with warmth. He rationed the food, rationed the water, tried to keep his strength.
He thought about Ami. About her voice, her eyes, her stubborn refusal to let him give up. He thought about Corrin, always researching, always questioning, always thinking. He thought about Kael, his hands steady, his aim true, his silence a comfort.
He thought about them.
And he held on.