The dark current was a physical weight, a crushing hand that threatened to squeeze the last of the air from Kaelen’s lungs. Lyra moved like a shadow through the silt, her powerful tail propelling them toward the thermal vents that lined the base of the Moon-Cliffs.
"Breathe, Alpha," Lyra hissed, her voice a vibration in the water. "The draught is dying in your blood. If we don’t reach the air pockets in the vents, your lungs will collapse before we hit the surface."
Kaelen’s vision was blurring. The bioluminescent lights of Athalassia were fading behind them, replaced by the suffocating black of the deep trench. Every pulse of his heart felt like a hammer against his ribs. He had spent his life fearing nothing—not the Black Ridge Pack, not the rogue wolves of the north, not even his fath
