Stormbreacher - Book 1 of Titanomachy Series

Chapter 18: Flooded Grave

The last time I went swimming was the last time I went to Veridian.

Two years ago. Swimming is not a thing in Vermont when it's below freezing half of the year.

I was slammed to the ground under a torrent of rushing saltwater. Stinger flung from my shoulder with a muffled scream. I managed to grab the doorframe before I was swept away, place my feet under me and steal another breath of precious air before the water splashed over me again.

I'm dead. There was no vertical incline from the way we came that I could swim back to for more air. The only way was forward. As though swimming towards the flood was a good idea!

And Stinger! Where was he swept off to?! I tried to open my eyes underwater but felt salt sting them and shut them again. Stinger! I considered shouting, and even mouthed his name, but I refused to lose breath.

But a sharp pair of somethings snagged my shirt and clung onto me—Stinger's talons! He crawled down my arm and grabbed my hand, frantically tugging me forward towards the flood. He wanted me to swim forward? He couldn't know what's ahead!

But I didn't have time. Stinger might as well have been my best hope. I braced my legs against the doorframe and kicked off, blindly flailing against the current. My hand ran along a rusting pipe in the ceiling—I clutched it and swung hand-over-hand through the current.

I starting exhaling methodically, letting out brief puffs every few seconds. I was suddenly acutely aware of my whole body, almost to the point of sensory overload. The course pads of my fingertips, the chilling goosebumps prickling over my legs and arms like needles, the tickling of clothes over my body.

And the gradual burn in my lungs.

At first it was an annoying twinge of pain near my heart, and I forced it away with a huff of air. But it intensified quickly, pressure expanding against the walls of my lungs, pushing them against my ribs, constricting against my throat. The instinct to gasp was almost overpowering. 

I paused, clasping my hand over my mouth, and exhaled again. That might be my last breath... I thought grimly, opening my mouth as though to breathe but refusing at the less second to swallow water.

Stinger suddenly shrieked, so loud I could hear it underwater. His talons sank into the back of my hand and in fact pierced flesh—he tugged my hand upwards, pulling me towards the ceiling. Stinger, there won't be air... I thought, but he was insistent. When I didn't move, he straight up bit my finger and that was it. I felt one last last breath leave my lungs, my burning guts screaming for air—he's the best I've got!—and I swung myself upwards in one last desperate swing, I pushed off the pipe and shot upwards, clawing for one last gasp.

My hand burst through water and grasped...air.

I surfaced in a pocket of precious O2, drew in a huge breath before collapsing into a furious coughing fit. Stinger burst from the water too with only a short gasp, splashing my face.

"Athena!" he cried. I moaned and shrieked all in one breath, my cry echoing violently in the air pocket. I heard Stinger scrabbling for grip along the outside of the pocket. "Athena, are you okay?!"

I couldn't speak. My heart and respiration were racing. I'd never held my breath for so long in my life.

"...Athena?" Stinger repeated. I weakly held up one finger, trying to quiet him, and spent another few breaths filling my lungs.

"...I'm okay..." I slowly rasped. Stinger let out a breath of relief, and bowed his head. "Athena, what the heck just happened?! There's water, everywhere—why is Project: Basilisk connected to this whole flood?!"