Chapter 18 · The Flesh Gate

"Stop pulling me, Cane!"

Lyra's fingers slipped from his wrist as the passage bucked beneath them.

"I'm not pulling you,"

he shouted.

"The current is!"

"Then cut the damned line!"

"If I cut it, you die!"

"If you don't, we both die!"

A cable snapped tight between them and yanked Lyra into the black water.

Cane caught her around the waist before the pressure dragged her into the split stone below.

Her shoulder slammed against his chest.

The impact knocked the last bubble of air from his mouth.

He bit down hard and shoved them both toward the wall.

His boots found nothing.

The ruins had no floor anymore.

Only a vertical drop filled with churning dark.

Lyra's hand clawed at his harness.

Her eyes were wide behind the cracked glass of her mask.

The water pushed at them from every direction, cold enough to lock his joints.

A red warning sigil blinked across the inside of Cane's visor.

AIR: 38 SECONDS.

"Look at me,"

he said through the mask.

"Don't panic."

Lyra slapped his chest.

"You first!"

"I'm fine."

"Your gauge is screaming."

"It's a suggestion."

"It's at thirty-eight!"

"Still a suggestion.