Mikey sinks deeper into the black waters, his body limp, eyes shut as though the fight has drained the very spirit from him. Then—his eyes snap open. His chest convulses. A muffled scream erupts from his throat, bubbling into gurgles as he thrashes wildly. His arms claw upward, trying to swim, but every kick only drags him deeper. Above, the wavering silver glow of the moonlit surface grows smaller, more distant, as though retreating from him. Then the voice comes again—deep, calm, unshaken by his panic.
"Calm down, Michael." There's a quiet chuckle woven into it.
Mikey twists in the black waves, searching for the source, but there is only water—dark, endless water. His chest tightens with fear. He sinks faster.
"Here," the voice says again, closer now, steady as stone. "I'll show you."
A sudden touch presses against his back. A hand—warm, steady, impossibly real. Mikey whips his head around, but there is no one. The palm lingers for a heartbeat, then pushes gently.
The world erupts.
Mikey's body rockets forward through the water, so fast his limbs are yanked taut, stretched wide as though nailed by invisible currents. The g-force tears at him, pulling at every fiber of his body. The water shifts around him, no longer formless but rising like colossal walls on either side. He's racing down an endless corridor with no ceiling, no floor, only momentum.
Through the translucent water walls, lights begin to stir. At first faint, then blooming brighter—swirls of color like galaxies collapsing into being. Hues of violet, gold, and pink shimmer, rippling through the water. Mikey's eyes widen, his irises catching the glow, green flashing like jewels in the tide. He turns his head, and star-like constellations drift beside him, hanging in the current as if the universe itself has been folded into this passage. His breath hitches, but then he realizes—he's breathing. Breathing underwater, lungs filling as naturally as if it were air.
'Oh my god…'
The awe steals the fear from him.
His speed drops all at once, but instead of being flung forward, he halts gently, as though caught by invisible hands. He hovers there, suspended. Looking down, his breath catches again.
Below him, two massive gates wait in the deep, each easily a hundred feet across. They are bronze and ancient, their patterns carved with a precision that feels older than time itself. Placed horizontally like trapdoors, they seem to seal away something immense. Mikey stares in wonder, kicking his feet just to stay oriented. Then movement above catches his eye.
His head tilts back.
Out of the watery dark glides a massive creature—graceful, powerful, its shape sleek and alien. A swordfish, its blade-like snout cutting through the currents with impossible precision. Its body gleams with faint silver light, each motion sending ripples of grace through the water. Mikey's lips twitch upward into the first real smile he's managed in what feels like forever.
He chuckles softly. "No way…"
The Council never taught anything of the ocean's mysteries. No class, no book ever mentioned a thing like this. To him it feels like a secret, a gift. The swordfish drifts closer, circling, then stills above him, its outline glowing against the distant moonlight seeping through the surface and the cosmic hues shining in the watery walls. Mikey reaches out, hand trembling, and brushes the soft curve of its underbelly. Its skin is smooth, alive, a pulse beneath the surface. Slowly, the creature flips upright, its body vertical, its long blade of a nose pointing straight down at the gates.
'What is this… that nose…'
He reaches out again, wrapping his fingers around the tip. It's sharp, but it doesn't cut him. It feels like something meant for him alone.
WHOOSH!
In an instant, he is hurled downward, clinging to the creature as it dives. The gates rush up to meet them, so massive in scale that their sheer size rattles him. They begin to part—splitting open with a groaning thunder, ancient hinges releasing their burden. The enormity of it makes his pulse quicken, as though he is nothing but dust before titans.
The swordfish carries him through the opening. Darkness swallows everything. The cosmic glow above fades until it's gone, leaving only shadow. Mikey holds tight as the dive plunges deeper, faster. Finally, the swordfish twists, wriggling free of his grip, its body gleaming one last time before it slips away into the dark.
Mikey rockets alone through the abyss, then—
CRASH.
He smashes through a thin barrier of water and lands hard against stone. The floor is damp limestone, rough beneath his palms. He coughs, gasping, pulling himself upright. Above him, where he fell from, the ceiling ripples with a suspended ocean, a sea floating overhead.
"What…" he breathes, chest heaving.
The space around him stretches vast and immense. A hall carved from the bones of the earth itself. Torches of blue fire hang in the heights, casting their light across the stone walls and painting the air with a cold, otherworldly glow.
He takes a step forward, boots splashing in shallow puddles, and his eyes lift. Four statues stand before him, each so large they make him feel like a child. Fifty feet at least, each one cut in bronze, polished until they gleam faintly in the blue flame.
The first: a hawk, wings half-folded, gaze sharp and eternal.
The second: an eel, coiled in a strike, its long body like a serpent frozen in motion.
The third: a spotted cat mid-leap, a cheetah immortalized in perfect pounce.
And towering above them all—the fourth, a bear, reared on its hind legs, jaws open in a roar that could shake the heavens.
They stand in pairs, the hawk and eel on one side, the bear and cheetah on the other, lining the grand limestone path that stretches deeper into the hall. Mikey stares up at them, neck craning, breath shallow, caught between awe and dread. The silence is immense. The statues loom, as though waiting. And Mikey walks forward, the sound of his footsteps the only thing daring to disturb the stillness of the grand hall.
Across the hall, Mikey notices a wide corridor yawning open between the towering statues. Its mouth is nothing but darkness, swallowing the blue firelight until no detail remains. A cold draft drifts from it, carrying the scent of stone and something older—like dust that hasn't been disturbed in centuries. He cups his hands to his mouth and shouts, his voice cracking in the vast silence.
"Hello?!"
The echo rolls through the chamber, bouncing off stone and fading into the void ahead. His chest tightens as he takes a step closer, eyes fixed on the black passage.
"What is this?!" he demands, voice wavering between fear and defiance.
The answer comes immediately, deep and calm, yet threaded with that same faint amusement, like whoever—or whatever—it is enjoys his uncertainty.
"Enter the corridor," the voice says, resonating all around him as though the walls themselves are speaking. "I have things to speak to you about. Things to show you."
Mikey freezes, his breath caught halfway in his throat. The voice lowers, steady and final, each word echoing with weight.
"I'm going to show you who you are."