While August's shoes splashed through a foot of water moving rapidly through the sewer, Finian moved with surprising grace, his amphibian limbs perfectly adapted to the subterranean environment. “We must make haste,” said Finian, his voice echoing off the wet walls. “We’d be moving faster if it wasn’t for the storm flooding the tunnels. I wish you’d end it.”

August, his legs splayed wide to avoid the deepest parts of the water flowing past him, furrowed his brow at Finian. “How could I end it?”

“This storm is your doing. It is normal for an awoken sleeper to start with water, but this is quite incredible. You will be a formidable sleepwaker when you reach your full potential!”

August paused. “What does that mean? What is a sleepwaker?”

“All in due time, my boy!” replied Finian.

As they navigated through the tunnels, Finian suddenly stopped before a solid earthen wall.

“Now, young August, observe the art of sand singing.” He placed his hand against the wall, and hummed a low, resonant tune that vibrated through the air. A glow seemed to emanate from within him, just beneath his pearlescent skin, and a soft magenta light erupted from him and filled the sewer. The soil began to shift and shudder, retreating outward until a passageway yawned open.

Through the passage was an ancient cave, its walls adorned with glowing crystals and intricate carvings that August could not decipher. Finian turned his head towards August, the glow now faded. “Just like humans often build their cities atop previous settlements, and those settlements atop more ancient foundations, we Malgarii were the first. Every city you have ever encountered was likely once one of our own. Fortunately for us, one of our labyrinths exists here still.”

Finian waved a hand and the glowing crystals lining the walls grew in intensity, revealing the immense size of the cavern. It was constructed of simple, stacked stones with a circular well in the center. “There,” Finian pointed, “we will use the traveling pool to reach the moon.”

August stepped forward, and using a hand to brace his backpack behind him, he leaned over the stacked stones surrounding the ancient well. The water was black, like Finian’s eyes, and cast a perfect reflection back at August. “How does it work?”

“Simple, my young friend. You think of a destination, and the current will take you there.”

August did not have confidence that jumping into a mysterious pool of strange liquid would take him anywhere but straight to the bottom. “How long does it take?”

“To reach the moon? I can’t be sure. It’s never been attempted.” The tentacles on Finian’s head curled as he put a bent finger to his chin, as if contemplating the feasibility of such a thing.

“Is it going to kill me?”

Finian shook as if offended. “Do you know of Houdini? A master of the mystic arts!”

August nodded, “Yeah, I’ve hear of him.”

“I believe he was much like you, although not nearly as powerful. He would have an assistant shackle his wrists and ankles and enter a locked chest that was then cast into the water. When the box was opened, he had vanished. He did not disappear, nor did he say he did. He called it The Metamorphosis. He was not destroyed and remade—he was transformed. You will be transformed, August. You will be like water, like Houdini.”

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August looked back to the pool, uncertain if transformation was something he was interested in experiencing at this moment. He had learned some magic tricks when he was younger, mostly using playing cards, but escaping a submerged chest was a bit more advanced than anything he had attempted.

“So, August, how long can a human being hold its breath?”

Before August could respond, Finian struck him hard in the back with an open palm, sending him head over heels into the pool. And for August, the world became wet, the world became dark, the world became water.

An infinite black abyss was beneath August, dropping into a perfect dark. The unknown.

The sensation of the pool was unlike anything he had ever experienced. August realized that he had not taken a breath. How long had it been?

There was a strange pull—an overwhelming current. It felt like every cell in his body was separating, dissolving into the water. As he became liquid, the current beckoned.

From just above the pool he could still hear Finian, his voice distorted, dampened by the water. “Go with the flow…” Then he felt the pressure—the current could not be denied any longer—and like a cork firing out of a bottle, he was catapulted downward.

August’s form felt stretched, infinitely dragged out like he was miles long, barrelling straight down into the earth. August grabbed for whatever he could, uselessly lashing out to brace himself, but he had no hands. He had no form at all. He could feel the pull of the current guiding him deeper towards the earth’s core.

August tried to focus. Go with the flow, he thought. As he stopped fighting the current, the pressure bearing down around him seemed to ease. His liquid form stopped jittering and started to glide. He could now sense the rocks and minerals passing by, their textures and shapes registering in his fluid form. The deeper he went, the more he lost track of time and direction, completely surrendering to the pull of the current.

He slipped through the iron core of the earth, then back through the fiery mantle on the other side. He could feel the heat of the molten rock fix to his form like a rocketing lava plume. Aided by the gravity of the earth, he burst through the seabed and was purified by the ocean. The lava supercooled and turned to obsidian chips that fell away in the water.

Reaching the ocean’s surface, he shot into the air like a geyser and continued into the sky. As the air thinned and stars appeared he could feel himself carried by an invisible force toward the moon, which appeared so small at first, and then its white surface was all he could see. As he fell towards the moon, the lunar landscape rushed up to meet him. He braced himself for impact, but instead of being smashed into its meteor-pocked surface, he began to slow as he approached a large crater. His watery form began to solidify, molecules realigning and taking shape.

Continuing down through the crater and the lunar surface, he arrived in a brightly lit silver-white cave. He hit the ground gently, landing on his hands and knees in a pool of cold water that splashed down around him. He took a deep breath, then touched his face and chest to make sure he was all still there.

“Excellent display! I knew you had it in you!” congratulated Finian, standing over August.

“Where are we?” said August between breaths, still prone on the floor, collecting himself.

Although solid now, his stomach continued to feel like a swishing mass of fluid. He held back the reflex.

Finian extended a hand, helping August to his feet. “Welcome to the Crystal Citadel, the heart of our civilization. This is home to the Malgarii, and the Princess of the Moon.”

August looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dazzling brightness. The cave was lined with immense, translucent crystals that glowed with an inner light. The air was cool and filled with a faint, melodious hum, as if the crystals themselves were singing. “What is that sound?”

“The moon is somewhat hostile to life, so we sing for it to accommodate us. It is a constant reminder that we do not belong here. Now, come,” Finian said, motioning August to follow. “There are many here eager to meet you.”

“Are you not from the moon, then?” asked August.

“No, of course not! The Malgarii are refugees here. We are from Earth—like you. Did you think me an alien?” Finian’s tentacles twisted on his face in a display that August assumed meant he was insulted.

“Well,” August began, “you did arrive in a spaceship. And besides, I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

“Indeed! Then I am happy to inform you, young August, that you are about to see many more like me.”

They walked through crystal corridors, a marriage of smooth silver metal and natural white stones, passing by other Malgarii who greeted them with courteous bows and curious glances. They wore simple robes that hung lightly on their delicate forms. Each Malgarii had unique patterns on their skin, ranging in transparent hues of purple, green, and blue. Despite their differences, they all shared a certain elegance, a serene otherworldly beauty.

“Why are you all here now, and not on Earth, then?” asked August.

“In a way,” began Finian, “It’s your fault.”