Page 77 of Make Out With A Merman

The cold hits like knives. Pressure punches the breath out of me before I even kick once. My ears ring, the water shrieks, and somewhere beneath me, the lake groans like it’s being split in two.

But I don’t stop.

Can’t.

Not while I know he’s down here, somewhere in the dark, trying to die a hero without me.

Not on my watch.

I dive harder.

The spell pendant Hazel crafted burns against my chest. It's strung on the same leather cord I used to tie my first camp whistle. A little poetic. A little desperate.

The moment I pass the trench’s edge, the pressure triples.

My ribs scream.

My ears pop.

My vision tunnels.

But then, light.

Faint, at first.

Then stronger.

Silver-violet, like a heartbeat made visible.

It wraps around me, pulsing in rhythm with the charm, withhim.

Because Ryder’s down there, pulling magic into the rift with both hands, bracing himself against forces no mortal should touch.

I see him.

His body hovers mid-current, arms outstretched, tendrils of power leaking from his skin like light from cracked stone.

He doesn’t see me.

Not yet.

He’s almost gone.

The magic’seatinghim.

I scream his name, underwater, useless but I do it anyway.

And then Igrabhim.

My hand closes over his wrist just as the spell fires to life.

The pendant lights up like a flare. A shockwave of warmth slams into my spine and surges out like a tidal wave.

It reaches for him.

And he jerks.

His eyes snap open.

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