The water was ice. It wasn’t just cold; it was a physical weight, pressing against Ethan’s ribs like a hydraulic clamp. He kicked hard, his lungs burning, his fingers locked around Lyra’s wrist with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.Above, the surface was a dancing, fractured kaleidoscope of crimson light."Ethan!" Lyra’s voice was a muffled bubble of panic, but her eyes, wide and luminous in the darkness, tracked his gaze.He didn't answer. He couldn't. He lunged upward, his shoulder muscles screaming, dragging her through the turbulence. They breached the surface with a ragged, desperate gasp, the air hitting their faces like a slap.The serpent was gone. In its place, a jagged, floating island of debris—the skeleton of their outrigger.Ethan hauled himself onto a floating cedar plank, then grabbed Lyra’s vest, heaving her up beside him. She collapsed, shivering, her hair plastered to her face like dark ink."Survival probability," she rasped, coughing up saltwater, "just plummeted