The water was a crushing weight, a cold, unyielding force that pressed in from all sides. Ada’s chest burned, the pressure building until every heartbeat felt like it would tear her apart. The darkness seemed endless, wrapping around her like a shroud, dragging her down, down into its suffocating embrace. Panic clawed at her throat, a primal, desperate urge that screamed for her to open her mouth, to gasp, to breathe, to do anything to relieve the agony building in her lungs.

But there was no air here. Only water, only the icy grip of the lake that sought to pull her under, to claim her like it had claimed so many others.

No! I won’t die here!

She kicked harder, her legs trembling, muscles screaming in protest. Thorn was beside her, his body a heavy weight she refused to abandon. Every inch felt like a mile, every movement a battle against the crushing depths. Her vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges, the light above—the fractured, silvery glow of the moon—wavering like a distant, unreachable promise. They were so close, so close...

She could feel it—the lethargy, the exhaustion, the slow, creeping chill of death. It would be so easy to stop. To let go. To just... sink.

No!

With a surge of determination, Ada forced herself to keep going. The light above seemed to taunt her, dancing just out of reach, mocking her efforts. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She fought like a rat trapped in a corner, her instincts screaming, her entire being focused on that single, desperate goal—

Air!

And then, finally—finally—their heads broke the surface.

Ada gasped, the cold night air flooding her lungs in a painful, burning rush. She coughed, choking, her chest heaving as she sucked in great, shuddering breaths. The chill of the wind bit into her skin, sharp and merciless, but she didn't care. They were alive.

They were—She turned, and her gaze landed on Thorn, who surfaced beside her, his form limp and unmoving. For a heart-stopping moment, he floated beside her, face pale, his eyes closed, body drifting as if surrendered to the lake’s gentle pull.

“Thorn!” she screamed, kicking toward him with all the strength she had left. The water dragged at her limbs, heavy and unrelenting, but she didn’t care. She pushed through it, fighting her way to him, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps.

He was floating limply, his body unnaturally still.

No, no, no…

With a strangled sob, Ada lunged forward, her fingers brushing against his arm—cold, unresponsive. She grabbed hold, her grip tight, shaking him roughly. “Thorn!” she cried, her voice a broken, desperate plea. “Please, wake up! Please—”

But there was no response. His head lolled to the side, his eyes closed, his skin pale and clammy. For a horrible, heart-stopping moment, Ada thought she’d lost him—that she’d saved him only to watch him die in front of her. Panic surged, wild and uncontrollable, threatening to drown her in its wake.

"No!" she snarled, shaking him harder. "No, you don’t get to do this! You don’t get to leave me—not now!"

She paused, her breath catching as she watched his face, willing him to respond. Then, suddenly, his chest jerked, and he drew in a ragged, shuddering breath, as if pulled back from the brink.

Slowly—so slowly it almost broke her heart—his eyes fluttered open. A faint spark flickered in their depths, a glimmer of recognition, of life.

"Ada…?" His voice was barely a whisper, carried on the faintest ripple of the water. "You’re… alive…"

"Yes, I’m alive," she choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But you won’t be if you don’t move. Come on, Thorn. You have to swim."

He blinked, his gaze drifting, unfocused, his limbs weighted as if the lake itself were pulling him down. A flicker of pain crossed his face, his breath shallow, as if every inhale took more strength than he could spare. Her heart twisted, a fierce, desperate pain that tore a sob from her throat.

Please, she thought, don’t give up now. Not after everything—after all you did. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her grip on him, fighting back the tears that blurred her vision. Please… We need you. I need you.

He blinked again, his eyes lingering on her face, but the exhaustion was etched deep, threatening to claim him. It was as if the battle, the struggle, had drained the life from him, leaving him teetering on the edge.

No… no, I won’t lose you!

With a deep, shuddering breath, Ada looped her arm under his shoulders, half-dragging, half-pushing him upward. Her small frame strained under his weight, muscles trembling with every stroke as she fought against the lake’s relentless grip. The water churned around them, dark and oppressive, but she didn’t let go. She couldn’t.

Every second was a struggle, her breaths laboured as she kept his head above water, willing him to hold on just a little longer.

“Come on, Thorn,” she whispered, her voice fierce. “Kick your legs. You can do this.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. And then—slowly—his legs stirred. Weakly at first, then with more strength, more purpose. Ada’s heart leapt as she felt him start to fight, start to push against the water.

“Yes, that’s it!” she gasped, hope surging through her like a wave. “Keep going, Thorn. Just a little more. You can do it.”

His gaze met hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something—determination, resolve, the faintest echo of the fire that had blazed so brightly before. And then, with a grunt of effort, Thorn kicked his legs harder, finally treading water, his arms moving sluggishly.

The cold pressed in, the darkness clawed at them, but they kept going. Together.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That’s it, Thorn. Keep going. Just a little further.”

“Where…?” Thorn rasped, “Where are… the others?”

Ada’s heart clenched painfully. They had surfaced further away from the shore, closer to the middle of the lake, driven by the outgoing tide.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, her voice tight. “They… they must have swum to the shore. We’re… we’re the last ones.”

Thorn’s expression darkened, his gaze turning toward the distant, shadowed shoreline. “Then we need to move. Now.”

They moved slowly, every stroke, every kick was a battle, a desperate struggle against the weight of exhaustion and despair. But they kept going, inching their way through the murky waters. The silence between them was heavy, filled only by their ragged breathing and the distant, eerie whispers of the corrupted lake. Each ripple felt like a reminder of the horrors they had just survived—the creatures, the dark power, the bodies of those who hadn’t made it.

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But at least they were alive. They had made it out of the nightmare below.

And then, they saw it.

The town of Halrest.

Ada froze, her heart leaping into her throat. The sight of it—twisted, broken, drenched in shadows—was like a punch to the gut. It felt as though the very air had been stolen from her lungs, a silent scream clawing at her throat as she stared, unblinking, at the place she had called home.

No… No, it can’t be…

Her vision blurred as tears welled up, mixing with the frigid water that clung to her lashes. The world seemed to sway around her, spinning and distorting as if it, too, were struggling to comprehend the devastation laid out before them. She felt Thorn stiffen beside her, his body tensing as his gaze locked onto the ruined town.

“No…” she whispered, her voice a soft, broken sound. “No…”

Ada’s heart twisted in anguish as she stared at the ruins of her home. But there was something that kept the flicker of hope alive—her family, her mother and sister. If they had made it, if they had escaped to higher ground...

“Ada…” Thorn’s voice was low, strained, barely audible over the soft lapping of the water. “We have to—”

“No!” she cried, her voice rising in panic. The word ripped from her throat, raw and desperate. She turned to him, her eyes wide, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. “We must go back! We have to—my family—they’re still—”

“Ada—”

“Please!” Her voice broke, the sound cracking with anguish. “My mother, my sister—they’re still there! I have to—”

“We can’t,” Thorn whispered, his voice tight with pain, every word weighted with the agony of what he was about to say. “Ada… they’re gone.”

“No!” she sobbed, shaking her head violently, the motion sending ripples through the water around them. “No, they’re not! I—” The words died in her throat, choked off by the sobs that tore from her chest, her shoulders shaking as the reality of it all crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Gone. The word echoed in her mind, reverberating through every corner of her being. Gone. Her mother’s warm smile, Lina’s laughter…

All gone, swallowed by the dark tide.

“I’m sorry,” Thorn whispered, “I’m so, so sorry.”

But it wasn’t enough. The words were hollow, empty things that did nothing to fill the gaping void inside her. She wanted to scream, to throw herself back into the town and search—search until her lungs burst and her limbs gave out. She needed to find them, to see them, to—

“Ada,” Thorn murmured, “I… I know it hurts.”

“No!” she wailed cutting him off, “I—I have to go! I have to—”

Before he could say another word, before he could try to stop her, she turned and swam.

The cold, dark water closed around her like a shroud. She kicked hard, propelling herself forward, toward the ruins of Halrest.

Please, let them be alive.

The thought pounded in time with her heartbeat, a desperate prayer that burned in her chest. But then a shape loomed in front of her, a twisted corpse bloated and decayed, surfacing grotesquely.

The sight jolted her—reminding her of the nightmare below.

Slowly, she turned back.

Thorn was still there, trembling as he floated, watching her with an expression of shared grief.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the last of her hope began to falter.

Ada floated there for a moment, the weight of grief pulling her down, threatening to drown her again in sorrow. But as her tear-blurred vision cleared, she noticed something—something that sent a flicker of hope sparking through her chest.

The section of the town where her house stood wasn’t submerged.

Her heart leapt, her breath hitching as she wiped the tears from her eyes. It wasn’t destroyed—it wasn’t underwater like the rest. It was still standing. Her family—her mother, her sister—they could still be there, alive. They could be safe.

"Thorn!" she gasped, her voice trembling with new energy. "Thorn, look! The part where my house is—it’s not under the water. It’s still there! They could be alive!"

She turned toward him, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with the sudden surge of adrenaline. "We have to go! Now! We can swim through the town—we can get to them!"

Thorn groaned softly, barely lifting his head. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. "Ada, no..." his voice raw. "You... you can’t just rush in. The town is dangerous. The water… the things down there—"

"But my family!" - "Thorn, I have to try. I have to find them! My mother, Lina... They might still be alive. We can make it. We can swim across the water—"

"It’s too dangerous," Thorn interrupted, his tone firm, though weariness clung to his words like a heavy weight. "You don’t understand, Ada. The creatures... they’re still lurking down there. Moving through the submerged part of the town. It’s suicide to swim through that water. You’ll be dragging us straight into a death trap."

"But they’re my family!" Ada’s voice cracked, her eyes pleading. "I can’t just float here and do nothing! I’ve already lost Marin—" She broke off, her voice choking on the words. "I won’t lose them too."

Thorn stared at her for a long moment, his brow furrowing with concern. He understood her desperation. He knew the risks. And more than that, he knew how close he was to the edge of his own strength.

"Listen to me," he said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "I know what you’re feeling, but if we charge in now, we’ll both end up dead. I can’t fight in the water—not like this." He gestured weakly to his body, his soaked clothes clinging to his frame, the exhaustion etched deep in his features. "I barely made it out alive, Ada. I’m... I’m no use to you in this state. You need to understand that."

Ada’s gaze flickered with frustration, but the raw truth of his words cut through the haze of her desperation. She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the strain on his face, the sagging weariness in his limbs. His lips were blue from the cold, his skin pale and bruised.

"Thorn..." she whispered, her voice softening. "I... I didn’t realize."

He managed a faint, grim smile. "It’s all right. I know you’re scared. I know you’re hurting. But rushing in like this? It’s only going to get us killed." He paused, his eyes searching hers with a hint of concern. "Ada, did you manage to get one of the cleansing potions?"

Her breath caught. The realization struck her like a blow—she was still at risk of transforming. In the chaos and fear, she had completely forgotten. Shyly, she shook her head. "No... I... I didn't."

Thorn's expression grew serious. "Then we need to get you dry and cured before anything else."

She opened her mouth to protest, a mix of fear and frustration welling up inside her. "But my family—they could be trapped, or hurt. I can't just leave them!"

He placed a firm but gentle hand on her arm. "I understand how you feel," he said softly. "But think about it. If you transform, you won't be able to help them—or yourself. We have to take care of you first."

Ada clenched her fists, her heart aching, torn between urgency and necessity. "I can't just stand by while they might be in danger!" she snapped. "Every moment counts!"

Thorn's gaze hardened slightly, his voice steady. "And that thing... what Finnian became—what would you have me do? What can we do against it in the water? You saw the speed he moved at, how he escaped... What chance do we stand?"

She faltered, the memory of Finnian's grotesque form sending a chill down her spine. The unnatural power, the sheer menace—it had been horrifying.

He continued, his tone firm but compassionate. "If we rush in now, we're not saving anyone. We're just sacrificing ourselves. We need to be smart about this. Get you cured, get me dry and ready. Then we can go back, together, and stand a chance."

Ada chewed her bottom lip, glancing from Thorn to the ruined town in the distance. The weight of his words pressed upon her, logic battling with emotion. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't do this alone. She needed him. And if that meant waiting a little longer...

"Then... then what do we do?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "I need to do something, Thorn."

He glanced toward the distant shoreline, considering their options. "We can't swim directly through the town," he said, his tone measured. "It would be suicide. The creatures will have the advantage, and we'll be defenceless."

He shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in his muscles. "But if we head toward the southwestern edge of the town, we can emerge onto dry land. From there, we can move clockwise, keeping our distance. Stay out of sight, stay quiet."

"I promise you, we'll find them," Thorn added. "But we need a plan. A real one. One that doesn't end with us dead or worse." He sighed, shoulders sagging. "I need time to recover, dry off, and prepare. My tome is soaked, and right now, I'm nearly useless in the water."

She looked at him, the desperation in her eyes slowly giving way to a cautious sense of hope. "And... and you'll make me a cleansing potion?"

He nodded. "Yes. We'll get you cured first. That's our priority."

Ada's heart clenched, but she knew he was right. Clinging to the hope that still flickered within her, she whispered, "Okay."

Thorn's expression softened with understanding. "We'll do this together. But we have to be smart. No more rushing in blind. We'll keep to the dry areas, stay alert for danger. And when we're ready, we'll go to your home."

She swallowed hard, her eyes locking onto his

"Thank you… for everything," she murmured.

"Come on," Thorn said gently. "Let's start moving. We'll get to dry land and take it from there."

Together, they began to swim in the direction of the southwestern shore, their strokes slow and steady, careful and measured. Ada felt a spark of determination igniting within her—a fragile, desperate hope that somehow, some way, she might still save her family.

As they swam, Ada broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think... they had time? My mother and Lina? Do you think they had a chance to escape?"

Thorn's brow furrowed, his gaze distant. "I don't know," he admitted softly. "But I know this much—you’re a fighter, Ada. If they're anything like you, they won't give up easily."

The words settled over her like a gentle balm, easing some of the ache in her heart. She pressed her lips together, nodding as they moved steadily through the water, toward the distant shore and whatever awaited them beyond.