Lake Kai is one of three large lakes. The others are Lake Kehlani (located on the same continent) and Lake Moana (located on the continent of Faux Point). It claims a massive surface area of over thirty-nine thousand square miles. Its depth varies depending on the location, and Cian is unsure how deep the center will be. Whenever he visited the lake, it was always for swimming and sailing lessons, and they kept within twenty square miles of the shore—thatched reeds, half-submerged in the water, marked the safe quadrant and acted as a boundary. To sail past the barrier would be into literal unknown waters, and Cian could not help but feel the anticipation coursing through him.
“Whose boat will we take?” Keegan asked as he stood, surveying a line of rafts built by different students from their year on the lake’s pebbled beach. Not too recently, The Cornucopia held a sailing competition for third- and fourth-year students. The competition's goal was for each student to build a reliable raft to race against others through various obstacles. Points were awarded for various categories—the ability to comfortably accommodate multiple people, provide a shaded area during the day, storage, and sturdiness against harsh weather. Naturally, Cian took first place in each category, with Wukong claiming second, although he was not foolish enough to mention this. It would not do to begin their trip with a needless argument, so Cian conceded. “Wukong's is closest to the shoreline,” he said.
“It is also the better crafted,” Wukong stated offhandedly. Cian has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, but he does shake his head.
Wukong’s raft is made from bamboo poles transported from the southern part of Amalga. He bound them together tightly with rope, and for the decking, he used planks to provide a smooth, flat surface. The competition gave the students plenty of time to work, and Wukong was able to build a fourteen-foot-long boat, several feet wide. Slightly forward from the center of the raft is a single mast with a rectangular sail made from Maynard Cow leather. Wukong also built a sunshade, using bamboo for the frame and leather as the roofing. The leather is also extensive enough to fall over the sides and can be rolled back with a piece of rope to secure it, depending on the weather. For storage, Wukong fastened a chest behind the sunshade, and for an anchor, there was a carved stone attached to a thick rope.
The boat is hefty, but the children use the logs specifically meant to roll the rafts into the water. Once it touches the water, it is easier for them to push it along before jumping aboard. The raft has two paddles, and they alternate who paddles for the first part of the journey. They paddle enough until a continuous breeze flutters their hair, and then they unfurl the sail and let the winds carry them along. It takes them a little under an hour to reach the reed barrier. When they come to it, they lean over the boat and unfasten a barrier segment, just enough so that the raft will not catch. They retie the reeds once they pass through. After that, it is nothing but water.
—————
The rest of the day had them lazing about while the wind worked with the sail, checking their direction occasionally with a compass. With nothing else to do, the children found ways to occupy themselves. Cian leaned against the mast as he read through the book once more. Keegan fiddled with the various ingredients, vials, and small syringes in the pouch strapped across his chest. Wukong, meanwhile, wrote in a tattered journal, possibly documenting the start of their journey—Davarnians never cease to record new information. This is how the rest of the day passes.
Come the second day, Cian and Keegan fished off the raft—the latter having packed fishing lines and hooks. They would capture and release the fish since their food stores were plentiful. During this time, Wukong had, quite expectedly, taken a nap. The boy then continued to slumber for the rest of the day. He had not even stirred when the Heartsease children practiced close-quarters sparring. Nothing too rambunctious, but they had created enough of a ruckus.
On the third day, Wukong was found to be in a foul mood, having slept longer than he was accustomed to. Cian gave the boy no sympathy and began to tease him about looking less like a raccoon after proper rest. Keegan attempted to mediate and quell the inevitable catastrophe, yet Cian would not listen. The boy continued to pester Wukong, and Wukong pushed him into the lake in retaliation. Cian had broken the surface of the water, sputtering and loudly complaining as he pulled himself back onto the raft with Keegan's help. Matters were made worse when Cian made it known that the book he had borrowed from The Cornucopia had been in his robes when he fell in. He had dropped the book onto the raft deck with a weighty plop. Wukong had simmered in a silent rage as he kicked Cian back into the water and had Keegan help him spread the book open to have the sun dry it.
On the fourth day, Cian and Wukong took out their instruments to play jaunty tunes. Keegan had packed Cian’s violin in foresight of the boy typically playing it daily, as Cian holds an affinity for instrumental or vocal music. At first, it had been a cordial duet—Cian with his violin and Wukong with his guitar. It then turned combative—Keegan happily clapped and sang along because the two were great musicians, despite the contentious atmosphere. With every dexterous fingered pluck of the guitar’s strings, Cian answered with a vivacious leap and dance of his bow against the strings of his violin. Cian became so engrossed that his bow snapped in his hands from his brutal grip. Most violinist will feast on their bow and violin strings—fraying thread flying like long grass in the wind—but not Cian. He will always break his bow, although it is not enough to impede him, as he will begin strumming with his fingers. His opponent will never admit it, but Cian has a way with music. The snapped bow is no hindrance, and he remains lively as he sings a song he is making up as he goes. In the end, they agree it is a tie.
By the seventh day, they had grown restless, and Cian and Keegan were no strangers to long voyages across open waters. When they first traveled to The Cornucopia, they took a passenger steamship across the Oda Ocean—a large vessel holding over three thousand people and one of the more enormous oceans with no bridge running across it. The defining difference between the large steamship and Wukong’s raft is, of course, space. Their continued proximity to one another did not do well for their souls. Cian had always been uplifting, but he had even become bothered by his brother and Wukong. He also grew highly bored. The child could only read his book so many times, spar with Keegan, fall into the water, and fish before he became disinterested. At the moment, he is lying down on his stomach, skimming the water's surface as the raft moves.
His fingers playfully kick the water up, and he waits for small fish to become interested, thinking his fingers are worms. They have been using dragonflies as bait, snatching the insects from the air when they get too close, but Cian is passively fishing. It is early morning, and Keegan is the only one up. Wukong fell asleep minutes ago after staying awake through the night. His brother has taken to reading the book on the off chance that Cian might have missed something. In all, it is a quiet morning.
“Huh? Good morning, friend,” Cian said. He swirls the water with a single finger, chasing after it is a Gourd Fish. They are the length of an adult middle finger and are broad, their shape resembling a gourd. When there is one, there should be a school nearby. He wonders if more will come, drawn by the tantalizing way he made his fingers dance. No more arrive, and the fish becomes still before darting into the lake's depths. Intrigued, Cian put his face into the water and blinked his eyes against the cold liquid. He watches the fish disappear into the abyss below. When he raises his head, beads of water drip down his face, and something within tells him to set anchor.
“What are you doing?” Keegan asked as Cian scrambled to furrl in the sail. He moved around to the back of the sunshade and grabbed the anchor, checking that it was secure before throwing it overboard. “We made it!” Cian shouted. “Wake up, Wukong!”
The anchor flowed through the water, the drag causing the raft to slow down before it snagged on an underwater rocky outcrop. Eventually, the raft stopped moving, and Cian became jittery. “How do you know this is where we should be?” Keegan questioned as he peered over the side of the raft. Cian is going by instinct and tells Keegan as much as he secures his knife to the belt around his waist. After the incident where he was pushed into the water, Cian changed from customary robes into a simple tunic and trousers. The tunic is a purple long-sleeve with a white and yellow blend at the end of the sleeves. The trousers are a simple black. His knife had a straight-edged, no-nonsense design, crafted for swift, brutal efficiency, and was a standard knife among soldiers. It is his weapon of choice—his preferred fighting style is getting close to his opponent. He does not believe they will encounter an enemy within the waters, but he prefers to have his weapon and not need it.
“I'm going to survey the water below. I want to see if the lake bed is deeper than a single breath,” Cian said as he stood at the raft's edge. He heard movement behind him and then felt the rap of knuckles against his head.
“Why wouldn't you wait until we prepare the diving pipes, and we can all go together?” Keegan asked.
“If the lake bed is further than you assume, you will risk drowning... I suppose that would be a fitting death for yourself,” Wukong mused. He owlishly blinked as he stared at the cause of his abrupt awakening.
Cian chose to ignore the latter. “They restrict movement,” he replies to the former. Designed by the tribe of Noctua, diving pipes are made from long reeds of grass that have been glued together using plant gum. They're hollowed from the inside and are flexible, moving like a rope whilst maintaining their durability. One pipe end is secured above water with a strainer to prevent insects from climbing through. The other end goes into the person's mouth while they are underwater, allowing them to breathe. It’s not exceptionally comfortable or sustainable for long periods or great depths. You must also be careful when swimming with them, as they risk becoming entangled around an object. Cian does not appreciate the extra thought he has to put into swimming when using the pipes. Besides, Cian has a record of holding his breath for twenty-four minutes, although this time is shortened if he swims erratically, and Keegan is aware of this.
“Thirteen minutes,” Keegan said. “Wukong and I will prepare the pipes should the lake be deeper than expected. We will come after you if you don’t return by then.”
Cian twisted around to see the two other boys already working on their set task. “I agree with your terms,” he told Keegan before facing forward. The boy started to breathe slowly and exhale a few times, calming himself and preparing his lungs. He took one last deep breath before jumping off the raft into the air and crashing into the water.
The last thing Cian heard was grumbling protests as he leaped into the water, causing a significant splash over Keegan and Wukong.
—————
The lake's surface had been temperate, the warmth from the spring sun creating comfortable waters to swim in, but as Cian dived deeper, the water began to nip at him. It was bearable for the most part, and Cian focused his mind on descending. The seconds passed, turning into minutes—the light from the surface running into a barrier of darkness. When Cian starts having trouble seeing his hands, he pauses in the water, looking down at the blackness awaiting him. It would be tempting God to continue without a diving pipe—this is what a voice that sounds suspiciously like Keegan said within Cian’s mind, yet… Cian takes a moment to assess his lungs.
He does not feel the burn that signifies his lungs begging for air, so he still has time. Cian swims on, refusing to be overwhelmed by the fading light. He can return to the surface if he remains directionally aware.
More time passes.
As Cian swims, he notices a distinct sound resonating through the water—a whooshing sound. Moreover, there was a current he had not felt at the beginning. It is a subtle resistance, but it grows as he swims. A pushback suddenly jolts him, and then he is jerked to his left. Cian cannot fight as the current drags him away into a spinning torrent of water.
Keegan will not be happy—is Cian’s last thought as he is forcibly pulled deeper than he ever intended.
—————
“You cannot see far into the water. There is no point in staring at its surface,” Wukong comments.
Keegan gives a distracted hum, not hearing the other boy. His eyes are committed to the spot in the water where Cian had dived into it. Preparing the diving pipes had not taken much time, and upon completing their task, Keegan turned to wait for his brother. He had begun a mental clock when Cian first splashed them with water, and now that clock struck the ten-minute mark with no signs of his brother resurfacing. Considering who Cian is, he must be pushing his time constraints, not in pure defiance, but from curiosity about how far the lake went.
“He should have returned by now,” Keegan said, his hand fiddling with the hilt of his sword attached at his hip. He and Wukong had changed their clothes like Cian, wearing simple tunics and trousers each. His clothing mirrors Cian’s, while Wukong’s is all black, save for his tribe’s emblem, a purple iris flower, on the back of his tunic. They have also equipped themselves with their preferred weapons. Keegan, with his hand-and-a-half sword—a blade forged for precision and power—the fuller ran down its length to lighten the sword without sacrificing its strength. Across his chest is his pouch, which now carries filled vials of various concocted poisons. Wukong had strapped to his back his nodachi—a monstrous length of steel with a thick spine, lending it weight, and its tapered edge was a whispered-thin sharpness.
They are prepared; the longer Cian is underwater, the more apprehensive Keegan becomes. “He might be hurt or drowning. He could have lost his way for all we know.”
Keegan starts to pace.
“We have the diving pipes secured, and I see no reason to wait for Cian. Let us dive after him—so as long as we stuff his pipe at the end and keep water from entering it, we can bring it to him. I am willing to wager he will meet us as we dive down,” Wukong said, walking over to Keegan with the three ends of the diving pipes. Keegan accepts the two offered to him and nods. His worry does not dissipate, but he tears a strip from his trouser leg and stuffs the fabric into the end of the pipe. It should keep long enough for them to find Cian. For himself, Keegan places the end of his pipe into his mouth and ignores how uncomfortable his teeth rest against the glued reeds. He breathes through it, allowing himself time to become used to breathing through his mouth. The air flows smoothly through the hallowed chamber of the pipe. With his breathing squared away, Keegan looked at Wukong to see the other boy waiting patiently at the raft's edge. Wukong gave him no warning as he stepped off the raft into the lake. Keegan follows right after.
The Cornucopia teaches students how to dive with diving pipes, instructing them on how to swim without entangling themselves in the contraption. So Keegan has experience with the diving pipe, but he has never disagreed with Cian over the boys’ dislike of them. Jumping into the water had caused his teeth to forcibly press against the pipe, causing Keegan to remember that their teachers warned against jumping because of that undesirable outcome. He toils through the ache in his teeth, especially when it seems that Wukong is not experiencing the same misfortune.
The lake's water was clear and warm against the surface of his eyes, and he had enough visibility to see where Wukong was. Their proximity to the surface also means there is light, which extends far until it is consumed by darkness. They swim within a certain distance of each other as a precaution against the diving pipes becoming entangled. Wukong was at the lead, and Keegan kept the boy in view, but he also scoured their surroundings to glimpse his brother. He grows perturbed the more they continue—the only other living creatures they come across are fish that swim out of their way. His weariness becomes like a rock, weighing heavily in his chest once he sees them entering the lake's dark void. Wukong stopped before then, his figure outlined by the empty blackness, attempting to grab him.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“We will not be able to see one another. This will be dangerous without underwater lanterns,” Wukong said with hand gestures. Matriarch Davar devised a method for mute and deaf individuals to communicate using a series of hand gestures that can form singular letters, words, or entire sentences. Gesture Speak is what it is known as, and it is taught in The Cornucopia. An excellent skill for communication above water, but also underwater, where spoken language is impossible. As for the underwater lanterns, they are another invention of Noctua’s. It is a sealed lantern with glass panels—the sealant being plant gum to keep water out, much like the diving pipes. Inside the lanterns are Lumos Flies—flies with a bulbous bottom that illuminates at night. They can be found on the colder continent of Horacevalgor, on Caelum Mountain, the tallest mountain, which breaches the sky where the air is thin. The flies breed naturally and are harvested during certain times of the year. Their lifespan is comparable to that of a rat, making them ideal for placement in underwater lanterns. They are also not dissimilar to plants, needing the sun for nourishment and some water. When the lanterns are not in use, there is an unscrewable cap on the bottom to provide water for the flies, and they can be left in direct sunlight to flourish. The purpose is to take the lanterns when diving; the darkness will trigger the flies’ luminescence. Since they live in thin air, the sealed lantern and its lack of air do little to the flies.
Underwater lanterns would have been perfect for their situation, but the issue was that they had not thought to bring them. It was not if The Cornucopia did not have any—it had simply slipped all three boys’ minds. They also have no time to return and retrieve the lanterns—Keegan is gesturing this to Wukong.
“We proceed forward, but if we are to find Cian, we must separate in hopes of bumping into him. Our diving pipes will be our guiding ropes back to the surface should anything happen,” Wukong responded. Keegan raised a hand in agreement and tried not to be too nervous as he saw Wukong enter the void and disappear from view. To follow Wukong’s plan, Keegan enters the blackness from a different angle, leaving security behind and embracing the unknown.
During training with Teacher Barnabas, he implemented sensory deprivation. He would have the students fight blindfolded to rely on their hearing, and then up the ante by clogging their ears with cotton. With both sight and sound gone, the students relied on their sense of smell and their natural sense of danger, opening up a new realm of possibilities. It is all in the name of the students learning to prevail through disadvantage—anything to keep themselves alive is how Teacher Barnabas explained it. The lessons learned are enough to soothe Keegan because he treats the underwater excursion as another class. Moreover, they have had lessons on fighting underwater, so he is at no true disadvantage should anything attack him. Although this is Lake Kai, there have never been reports of larger animals actively living in the deeper depths. He is fine, and most importantly, Cian is fine.
As Keegan has been swimming, he muses that Cian has already returned to the raft. He must be wondering why they are not there. The other boy may laugh, thinking Keegan and Wukong are silly for jumping in after him. If anything, Cian has probably dived back into the water and is following one of the diving pipes—if he chose Wukong, then the other is subject to whatever horrible joke Cian has concocted. Keegan imagines the fight between the two that will undoubtedly come after, and almost snorts water through his nose. He swims for another five minutes before returning—a testament to his confidence that his brother is well.
Unlike how Cian had noticed the shift in the water, Keegan remains unaware of it due to his overflowing thoughts. He is distracted and does not feel the weird tug in the water until it becomes violent. Keegan is pulled back and then sideways so suddenly that he lets go of the diving pipe intended for Cian, and the pipe in his mouth falls out. The force makes him feel like he is spinning—his body is whipped around down a large circular path. Despite the discombobulation from the water’s rapid movement, Keegan recognizes that he has been caught in an underwater whirlpool. Such a thing can be experienced in the open ocean, but he had never been aware that the phenomenon could happen within a lake. He is unsure how to swim out of it as it continues dragging him deeper.
Keegan’s body can do nothing as the whirlpool feeds into an opening in the lake bed and brings him along. By the grace of God, the opening is large enough for him to pass through without becoming stuck. The opening leads into an underground tunnel that winds like a snake, and with each curve, Keegan is tossed into a wall before being forced to follow the flow of water. Each hit nearly forces the air from his lungs. Before his diving pipe had been stripped away, he had managed to take one last breath. He is not as adept at holding his breath as Cian, but he perseveres, having covered his mouth and nose with his hands. This does not stop his lungs from burning, but there is nothing else Keegan can do.
More hits against the wall and another jolt made Keegan believe there was no end to the tunnel. His hope was dwindling, and he prayed it would not hurt to drown, but it was as he had this thought that he was suddenly flying. Keegan was shot out into the open air, the water behind him flowing like a waterfall into a calm river below. He thinks he will land in the river, but his trajectory has him heading toward dry ground. Keegan is sent into a harsh roll, coming to a stop with his face in the dirt. He groans in pain—his whole body feels like one giant bruise.
“Keegan!” Cian's voice calls out. Hearing his brother's voice prompts Keegan to raise his head, and he only winces slightly. “You shouldn’t have followed me! Why did you come?”
Cian hovers over him, looking a little worse for wear, but he is fine, bringing Keegan much-needed relief. To make it even better, Keegan could see Wukong coming up behind his brother. The other boy’s appearance was as beaten as Cian’s, although there was a bleeding wound over his left eye, and Wukong was sporting a murderous look that made Keegan frown.
“We did not know about the whirlpool!” Wukong said hotly. He was like boiling water spilling over the pot, and Keegan believed he had never seen Wukong this angry. “We are stranded underground—that is where the whirlpool has brought us. Underneath Lake Kai!”
“You can’t blame me for our situation. How was I supposed to know about the whirlpool?” Cian countered. Keegan watched Wukong stride up to Cian and grab him by the collar of his tunic. “I should never have followed an imbecile such as yourself. The book had been authenticated. There had been no need to test its validity, yet here we are!”
“Let go of him!” Keegan cried out, having had enough of how Wukong was practically choking his brother with how tightly he held the collar. He physically removes the son of Davar and puts himself between him and Cian. Behind him, he can hear Cian coughing, which causes his eye to twitch. Keegan stared Wukong down, the other looking at him in bewilderment. “You didn’t have to follow us on this adventure, but you did. This isn’t Cian’s fault, so I suggest keeping to yourself, Wukong.”
—————
The tone of voice borders on sharp darkness. From where he is on the ground, he can see how this version of his brother throws off Wukong. The whole situation has become coated in rising temperaments. Wukong’s experience with near death—because that is what the tunnel was—and Keegan’s overprotectiveness. Cian must douse the flames, like he always does.
“Don’t be dramatic, Keegan,” Cian said jokingly and jabbed his brother in the back of the calf. The other boy looks down at him sharply, but Cian can see the heat in his eyes dissipating to mere annoyance. “Wukong wasn’t even hurting me. His grip lacks strength.”
Cian’s latter words spark an insult from Wukong, instinctive as the boy is still keeping his eyes on Keegan. It does not matter as the atmosphere has become less tense, and Cian jumps to his feet. He looks around them, although he has already done so before the other two joined him. They are in a wide passage that stretches further ahead. There is a back wall behind them where they landed, and the waterfall flows from the top of the side wall. The walls are uneven but smooth enough to be unclimbable, and Cian doubts they would be able to head back the way they came. The passage is divided evenly between dry ground and a river flowing calmly. An interesting thing about the passage is the algae growing along the walls and in the river's water. It brightly illuminates the passage like a thousand Lumos Flies, allowing them to see one another. Cian speaks about the algae out loud to his companions.
“I have never seen algae that glow, nor have I read about them in a book,” Wukong said after walking to the wall and running his finger against the glowing organic material. Cian watches his finger come back, glowing as well. He snorts when Wukong attempts to wipe his finger on his tunic just to stain it. “If we can escape this underground prison, I would like to inform my uncle about the algae. He has always wondered about improving the design of lanterns.”
“How do we escape?” Keegan asked, tossing Cian an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow. “I don’t believe the book mentioned the whirlpool or an underground passage.”
Cian rubbed the back of his head, wincing when he touched a particular sore spot. “The book ends with the author stating they would ignore the patriarch and find the relic themselves. It’s blank pages after.”
“Our only option is to move forward and pray that there will be a way out at the end,” Wukong stated. He looks between Keegan and Cian for any objection. Cian only nodded in agreement, and Keegan sighed—probably not thrilled with the thought of walking for who knows how long. Like Wukong said, they had no choice, so Cian led the way. The silver lining was that he retained his knife and saw that Keegan and Wukong retained their weapons. They can at least defend themselves—from what? Cian does not know.
—————
The passage turns out to be longer than they anticipated. They do not have a clock or the sun to inform them of the time. Cian had taken it upon himself to count the seconds in his head—a way to occupy himself while they journeyed. When they stop for a short rest, he tells his party that they have been walking for 14,400 seconds.
“It took us several days to reach the lake's center. At this pace, and ruminating over the miles we crossed on the water, we might not reach the end of the tunnel until eleven days,” Cian said as he kept staring at the way forward. Their path was on even ground, and it did not feel like they were descending. They were moving in a straight line underneath the lake. It made him hopeful that the end of the tunnel led out into the surrounding forest. Perhaps they will come out through a cave or a sizable hollow tree.
“Our rations are on the raft. What will we eat and drink?” Keegan asked. Cian’s eyes immediately focused on the river. He went over to it and crouched for a better view. Just beneath the water’s surface are fish swimming—their sizes varying, although none appear larger than two feet. “Fish. There are fish in the water we can eat.”
“There is still the problem of what we will drink,” Wukong pointed out.
“You won’t like it,” Cian said as he stood up. He turned around with an apologetic look and was met with responses of horror and disgust. The two boys already knew what Cian was going to say. “The common theme for us is that we have no choice. It’s either we drink the water or die of thirst.”
“That is if the dysentery doesn’t kill us first!” Keegan shouts. Cian winces, but he is not sure what Keegan would have them do. They are without everything besides the garments they wear and the weapons they carry. Their situation is not ideal, and their focus must be on survival. Before Cian could voice all of this, he was interrupted by Wukong.
“What God makes pure can never be called impure.”
Cian looked at Wukong questioningly. “I feel you’re taking that bible verse out of context.”
Wukong sent him a withering glare. “I am not. It did help me to puzzle something out. If we pray over the water, then by faith, we will not become sick and die.”
Wukong must not have liked the face Cian made because he also added. “You are correct about the theme. Until we can escape above ground, we do not have the freedom of choice.”
Keegan sighed resoundingly as the decision had been made for them. Cian went up to his brother and lightly patted him on the back. He gave him a smile that he hoped was uplifting. “A mustard seed. That is all it takes,” Cian said to lighten the mood. Keegan rolled his eyes at him and started walking, with Wukong following behind. Their rest having been called. “That verse is supposed to be encouraging! We won’t die, Keegan!” Cian shouts after them. He frowns and grumbles as he hurries to follow them.
They do not rest again until their stomachs rumble for food.
In keeping with their plan, Cian volunteered himself as a fisherman. They had no line or bait to fish, but Cian was resourceful. He once again used his fingers as a lure, and when the fish would come to investigate the wiggling appendages, he would snatch them out of the water. His movement is quicker than theirs, and he can catch multiple at a time in one go. They cannot light a fire, so they are forced to eat raw fish. During this time, Cian also cups his hands by the river’s edge and dips them in to bring water to his lips. He had made sure to pray over the seemingly innocuous liquid and took it as a good sign when he did not immediately keel over, even though he understood that is not how it works. Keegan and Wukong had reservations, but they joined Cian in sharing a drink.
After their second rest, Cian took it upon himself to resume counting the passing seconds. He dictates their third stop—a short rest; their fourth stop—another meal; and their fifth stop, the last of the day. They all agree on five hours of sleep but concede that only one can take advantage. To ensure they do not oversleep, one person will take a two-and-a-half-hour watch before waking up another to take their place. The third person will be allowed to sleep throughout this exchange, and the third person will alternate each day to ensure fairness.
It becomes routine for them. Walking, resting, eating, walking some more, and then sleeping. At first, Cian wanted to keep count of the passing days, but they began to bleed together. It did not help that they were constantly bathed in light from the algae. The soft glow, bluish in hue, made it difficult to sleep. They resorted to stripping pieces of cloth from their tunics to blindfold themselves. It helped, but they needed the light from the sun and the darkness that came with its absence at night, when only the moon reigned. Their consistent environment began to erode their morale. They were not arguing or fighting, but their silence was just as bad, so Cian started to sing one day.
Every child in all the tribes and clans grows up learning the same hymns. The hymns have been passed down from generation to generation and are the lullabies parents sing to their children. Some are somber yet convey a message that sprouts hope within a person's soul, while others are naturally jovial. Cian sings one called Across The Line—a hymn he was told his mother sang to him when he was born. It tells a story about a man confronting a line drawn in the dirt. The man had crossed it previously, and upon doing so, he weighed himself down with shadows. He had been sure of himself when taking the first step, but after he had done so, it was too late. The shadows grew, and the man became scared. Then, he misses the light he left, so he turns around but is ashamed to cross back over. People saw what he did, and he cannot forget either, so the man wavers. As he stands at the threshold, a warmth passes over his face—before the man is a light brighter than the sun and more soothing than the gentle embrace of a mother. It coaxed the man, and past his lips fell words of repentance as it guided him home across the line, melting away the shadows. The hymn is Cian’s favorite and was also favored by his mother.
Keegan and Wukong respond kindly to the melody that dances across the passage walls and do not stop Cian as he sings. A new spark settles within the children, and the coming days are filled with a chorus of voices as the other two join Cian in song. This day is no different, and their morning starts with Cian gently humming a tune only he knows.
To accompany his humming, Cian hits the passage wall with the handle of his knife in harmony. It did not sound perfect, and judging by the twitching of Wukong’s eye, it was possibly grating. Cian is unfazed, his tapping on the wall increasing in tempo. He tries to perform a series of taps in time with the crashing crescendo of his humming, but he skips a note when the ground trembles. The trembling is harsh enough to cause Cian almost to lose balance. He steadies himself against the wall as he looks up at the roof. His eyes widen in terror when he sees cracks spread like a spider’s web all across the roof. When the cracks touch a particular section, pieces of the roof splinter off. The pieces are small, barely making much of a splash as some hit the river, but that does not make it less worrisome.
“Run!” Cian commands as more roof pieces break away. He sprints down the passage, covering his head as he goes and paying attention to any larger chunks that might threaten to fall on top of him. Cian allowed himself to look back once and saw Keegan and Wukong keeping stride with him. The three boys weave around the falling debris, pushing their legs to carry them quickly. Under better circumstances, it would not be hard for the children to run far and fast, but they lack proper rest, and the effort is taxing. Cian has to ignore the burning in his muscles as he runs—just a little further, he thinks to himself. At first, it is a white lie he tells himself because Cian does not know if they will be able to reach a safe place, but then, in the distance, he hears what sounds like another waterfall. Cian squints his eyes. The passage continues a bit further, and then it seems just to end, almost like a hallway leading to a room. “We’re almost there!” Cian shouts, relief coating his words. With the passage’s end in sight, the boys are filled with a new wave of life that allows them to move quickly. Five meters, three meters, one meter, a foot away, and Cian is catapulting ahead.
If Cian had been aware of the drop that awaited them, then he would have called out to stop, but as it was, their momentum was too great. Cian fell, and so did Keegan and Wukong.
