The Stowaway Pact

Above us, footsteps echo. Heavy. Close.

"Check the hold," a voice calls. "Now."

Ren whispers, "Someone's down here."

I don't answer.

But the fire in me stirs.

Then- CRACK.

The ship jerks. Wood splinters. A slow, dreadful groan rises from the hull.

"What the hell was that?" someone shouts.

Water seeps beneath us. Cold. Rising.

"Oh great," Ren mutters. "Sinking. Just what I needed."

I'm already moving. A hatch at the far end of the hold, half-hidden.

We sprint. Slipping. Sliding. Barrels roll like dice across the tilting floor.

The hatch won't budge. I press my hand to the lock and let the heat crawl up my palm.

We hit the edge, but the ship bucks beneath us—splintering, groaning, dying.

The deck cracks in half.

And then; nothing beneath my feet.

I fall.

The sea slams into me like a wall. Cold. Dark. Endless. The breath leaves my lungs in a rush. I sink fast, limbs thrashing, heat fizzing in my veins but useless against the weight of water pressing down on me.

I claw for the surface. Can't find it.

Something grabs my arm.

Ren.

He kicks, pulling us both upward. Salt stings my eyes, my chest burns, but then..

Air.

We break the surface, gasping. The ship behind us is a carcass sinking into black water.

No lifeboats.

No land.

Just us.

And the ocean, whispering secrets beneath our feet.