Her lungs were on fire.
She could hear her pulse hammering in her ears, the reverberations sending a tremor through her throbbing head. Distant murmurs buzzed gently under the rhythm, but it was indiscernible.
She couldn't breathe.
The chatter grew clearer, just enough so she could recognize the voices of the rest of the research team. But it still wasn't enough to muffle the sound of her heart, and she focused as much as her pounding head would let her.
She needed to take a breath.
For a moment, the sounds faded.
And then at once, they crashed over her, drowning her senses like a tidal wave. Her ears filled with panicked shouts and blaring sirens. Flashing red lights were seared on the inside of her eyelids. Salt water engulfed her tongue and stung her sinuses. Her muscles pulsed with adrenaline; an icy chill bathed her skin.
She gasped for air.
Her first inhale was shallow, and her chest ached at the attempt. She tried again, pushing past the burn no matter how much it hurt. Only by the third time did she feel like her breath managed to stay in her system, and each of the following ones dulled the pain that lingered in her chest.
It took several more breaths before the stars flickered out of her eyes, and even then, it still took time for her vision to focus. Once it did, it was filled with dark gray rocks with a blue tint and porous texture.
Suddenly, a cluster of bubbles entered her line of sight. They drifted gently towards the rocky surface, dancing with each other along the way. Malia watched them, waiting to see them pop as soon as they hit the coarse surface. Instead, they merely lingered there, floating in limbo.
Floating...
Malia bolted upright—or rather, she tried to. As soon as she shifted her weight, she lost control of her balance, wobbling side to side as if she was trying to sit unassisted on an exercise ball. The last time she tried that, she tumbled inelegantly to the floor; this time was no different.
"You're awake," an unfamiliar voice said. And if it wasn't for their astute observation in such an indifferent tone, Malia would've thought they sounded like a gentle river rushing over rocks.
"Ow," Malia replied, rubbing away the intensified ache in her head.
"It can't hurt that bad," the voice continued from out of sight. "Not for long, at least."
As much as Malia wanted to spring to her feet and argue—she could use a good verbal sparring to warm her mental muscles—she still felt oddly wobbly. There was something very wrong with her, but she tabled that concerning notion in favor of shooting a glare at whatever jerk had the nerve to be so rude.
But as soon as she did, any heat that resided in her chest vanished. Towering over her was a strange woman with fair, seafoam green skin—yes, green—and radiant blue eyes. Long, wavy brown hair danced gently around her head; similarly, her pastel blouse and dark pants billowed loosely around her slender frame.
Suddenly, her small lips tilted into a frown, and her bright aqua eyes narrowed icily. With that subtle movement, Malia's annoyance returned in full force.
Immediately, everything about the strange woman, from her tone and accent to her posture and mannerisms, screamed posh and pretentious. Or rather...
"Are you British?" Malia asked, incredulous.
The woman sighed softly. "Beatrice. Beatrice George." Her eyes did a once-over of Malia; her nose crinkled. "Pleasure to meet you."
Malia had to pause a beat before limiting her emotions to a short scoff. "And I'm Malia," she said, imitating Beatrice just short of her accent. "Malia Tsai. Where the hell am I?"
Beatrice's slight frown didn't move. "For starters, you're dead."
Again, Malia paused; she didn't have a retort prepared for that.
"Is that a threat?" she eventually asked. And even though she still felt unsteady while seated on the floor, she knew her adrenaline would kick in if needed.
"It's the truth," Beatrice said, idly brushing away strands of her hair that drifted in front of her face. "Now, are you going to keep sitting there, or are you going to follow me? I'd rather show and not tell."
A wave of self-consciousness rushed through her, and Malia ignored her unsteadiness as she hustled to reduce their height difference. But just before she tried to push off the ground, her eyes passed over her hands, and she froze at the sight.
"Here we go..." Beatrice muttered, but her words were meaningless to Malia's ears.
"What the hell is wrong with my arms?" Malia exclaimed, scrambling upright.
Her arms were dyed a pale green, nearly the same shade as what tinted Beatrice's skin. But as much as she tried to wipe the pigment off on her pants—those awful, stiff bib pants—the color refused to fade.
"Are you going to keep at it for much longer?" Beatrice asked. "That likely won't be the oddest thing you see today."
"Green?" was all Malia could manage as she switched to vigorously rubbing a thumb over a small area inside her forearm.
"Have you realized you're underwater yet?"
Malia froze. After seconds of silence, her eyes scanned the area around her, as if she would find something to contradict Beatrice's claim.
She was in a small bedroom, the walls made up of the porous rock she was staring at moments ago. Everything was tinted in a pale blue, and a soft glow from two orbs above the bed illuminated the space. In the middle, Beatrice stared up at her, her eyes still narrowed and her frown deeper than ever.
Stared up at her...?
Only then did Malia realize that she was hovering above everything else, stuck to the ceiling like a stray balloon.
"What the—?"
Her curse was cut off by her plummeting to the ground.
"While I technically do have all the time in the world, I'd rather not spend it all here," Beatrice said, unaffected by Malia's pained grumbling. "You're dead, you're underwater, and I'm responsible for showing you around. You would be doing the both of us a favor if you accepted that sooner rather than later."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Malia snapped, her annoyance at Beatrice's condescension tied with her confusion.
Instead of a proper answer, Beatrice sighed and extended a hand to her. After staring between it and the woman's permanent scowl, Malia took it and was immediately hauled upright.
"For the time being, I'll help you keep balance," Beatrice said, her impatient tone detracting from her words. "Just try not to... flail."
"What?"
As soon as Malia felt her body being pushed forward, she threw her arms wildly around to keep balance.
"That," Beatrice said.
Whatever was happening, Malia grew accustomed to it eventually, and she let her body trail after Beatrice on its own accord. Granted, she still had multiple questions that she'd rather ask before they left the small room, but she figured Beatrice had a point: she preferred to be shown, rather than told.
They traversed through a cave-like hallway with the same rocky walls and soft glowing orbs as the bedroom. From her brief observation, the lights seemed to be hovering just off of the walls, and there were no signs of any electrical cabling. Perhaps they used electromagnets.
After the decor didn't change for a minute, Malia finally noticed another abnormality: Beatrice wasn't walking, she was levitating, gliding down the path with a slight forward angle and her feet half a foot above the smooth stone surface. Thankfully, Malia managed to restrain her shock and avoid further embarrassment, at least enough to think rationally. If she had to guess, there was a gravitational anomaly.
As for her green skin? The way Beatrice could force her to move—float—without physical contact? The way bubbles floated to the rough ceiling and refused to pop?
There were definitely scientific explanations for all of those observations. Malia was just too worked up to think straight.
So when their surroundings finally began to change, and the hallway was illuminated by a strong glow from the end of it, Malia was eager to see what lay ahead. She needed more information, and that was the only way she could mentally fill in the gaps to all her questions.
Until she saw what was waiting for her, and she was at a loss for words and reason.
Before her was a mountain of rocks against a deep blue backdrop that extended further than her eyes could see. The mountain itself was oddly shaped, formed with peaks of various shapes and sizes. The tallest looked like skyscrapers, and they even had window-like holes. The shortest were rounded portly cottages, akin to something she would see in a cartoon.
Amidst the rocky architecture were strange plants, long strands of dark green that flowed surreally in the wind. In the air, people drifted by, their bodies angled forward like Beatrice's. They, along with the foliage and buildings, were all illuminated by a soft glow, just as the hallway and bedroom had been.
But something about it looked familiar...
Malia remembered an image on a wide computer screen. It was a city embedded in the rocks, illuminated by a faint blue glow. She saw it only for a moment before it was shrouded by a sea of static. She had been on a ship at the time. And the city? It was underwater.
This city was underwater. And by association, so was she.
"Holding your breath won't do you much good," Beatrice's voice rang through Malia's buzzing thoughts like a whistle. "You don't have to breathe; not anymore, at least."
You're dead. You're underwater.
"I'm dreaming," Malia whispered.
"Well then, you have quite the imagination," Beatrice said. "I'm sorry, Ms. Tsai—"
"Malia."
"Malia," Beatrice amended. "But from my experience, it's best to be blunt during this... crisis. Or, as the people of your time might say, 'rip off the bandage.'"
"No."
"You are dead, Malia. And so am I. So are all of us. And you can't change that."
"No."
"You died on a ship at sea. You drowned, as did your fellow passengers. But you alone were given a second chance at life. I suggest you enjoy it."
"No."
Malia squeezed her eyes closed, unable to stand the sight of people floating—swimming—casually before her. Each of them had the same seafoam green skin, just like Beatrice. Just like her.
She remembered the ship. She remembered crossing the brow from the pier while the chipper research team leader rambled in front of her about all the discoveries they were going to uncover. She remembered sulking in the ship's mess, up until the graduate student threw up their breakfast onto her jeans. She remembered the ugly pants bib, the one she still wore, as she lingered about the topside deck, then below in the room with the screens. She remembered furiously storming outside. And then—
"I'm dead," she whispered, finally opening her eyes to release the tears that filled her heart.
But if they left her, she wouldn't know. Not when she was evidently surrounded by water.
"Yes," Beatrice said, surprisingly softer than before. "And I'm here to help you."
For a few more seconds, there was nothing Malia could do but stare at the green that painted her hands, and the way the rocks past them were tinted blue.
A part of her wanted to purge her memories; another yearned for answers. Alas, neither of her wishes could be fulfilled, not when vague recollections of panic and pain pulsed through her mind, just weak enough to hide the truth from her.
Still, something in her soul told her enough: she was dead. The overly optimistic team leader? Dead. The blubbering grad student that gifted her with their oatmeal? Gone. Each and every one of those scientists, all eager to discover new things? They would never achieve their dreams.
But maybe she still could.
At last, she took a deep breath—which she apparently didn't need—and steeled her soul.
"You said a second chance?" she asked, finally meeting Beatrice's gaze.
It was a second before Beatrice responded, her bright blue eyes staring directly into Malia's before she nodded once.
"Yes," she said. "When you died, when all of us did, we were given a second chance because of our souls. Our drive to continue living was deemed enough by the water to give us life once more."
"The water? Like, the ocean?"
"The ocean is made up of water, yes." Beatrice sighed again, then finally turned her eyes back to the city around them. "The water is a giver of life. Not only does it keep plants and animals alive on land, it has true energy; power. And it can bestow that power on those that it deems fit."
"Okay. I kind of get it." Malia did not get it. "So the water let me live? That's cool. So, um, where are we?"
Suddenly, the realization hit her.
"Hang on... Is this Atlantis? I mean, I don't believe in mythology and stuff, but most of those stories are at least elaborate retellings of facts. And some scientists speculate that Atlantis really did exist—is this it?"
When Beatrice turned back to face Malia, her expression was blank.
"No," she said simply, then nodded her head slightly. "That's east of here."
After a few seconds of Beatrice refusing to expand on her answer, Malia narrowed her eyes.
"I can't tell if you're joking or not."
"Hm."
With that, Beatrice continued to glide forward, and Malia was helplessly dragged along.
"This is the city of Okeanos," Beatrice said. "It was named after a Greek legend; I've heard they still discuss those in this day and age."
"Yeah, I took a semester of it in college," Malia said absentmindedly, more distracted by a group of children giggling above her as they ran—swam—after a small school of fish. "It was... a gen ed class."
"Wonderful," Beatrice said dully. "Throughout the years, souls lost at sea are occasionally given the gift of life, and they become water spirits. Those that are reborn in this region come to live here, and those before them guide them through our ways, like I have the pleasure of doing now."
Malia heard the subtle insult loud and clear, but she was too preoccupied to address it. "Can you... talk to fish?"
With that, Beatrice stopped—as did Malia—before turning around with annoyance.
"Can you talk to dogs?"
"Well..." Malia shrugged. "Not to brag, but some people call me a dog whisperer."
While Malia couldn't hear Beatrice's sigh over the chatter of the city, she could clearly see the woman's heavy rise and fall of her shoulder.
"No," Beatrice said shortly. "We cannot talk to fish."
When Beatrice turned around and pulled Malia along, Malia knew better than to argue.
After passing wordlessly through the hustle of the city, they arrived in a quiet clearing with fine sand covering the floor and clusters of seaweed and coral surrounding it. On one side was nothing but the deep blue ocean, its vast emptiness threatening to swallow them whole.
"The water grants us more than just life," Beatrice continued. "When it gave us a second chance, we became connected to it. We can have it take us where we need to go, and it can restore our energy when we need it." She held a hand in front of her, and after a few seconds, a faint glow appeared in her palm, just like the orbs scattered throughout the city. "The water and us are one."
"That's..." Impossible. "Cool. But how can I use that to get back to land?"
The glow disappeared from Beatrice's hand, and her eyebrows pinched when she frowned. "Land?"
"Yeah." Malia gestured at the underwater park around them. "No offense, this looks great, but if I was given a second chance at life, I'd rather do it up there. I have a life, a job, and dreams. I can't do that here. This second chance doesn't matter if I can't be where I need to be."
Beatrice's frown remained. "You'd rather be there than here?"
Malia shrugged even though she was certain of her decision. "Yeah. Of course."
While Beatrice didn't sigh, the way that her eyes studied Malia was just as judgmental.
"There is a way, I suppose," Beatrice eventually said, her gaze still watchful. "But it'll be difficult. After all, you were given life where there should have been none. To pay it off..."
Malia gulped. "You don't mean... I have to take a life in return?"
"What?" Beatrice said, bewildered. "No, don't be ridiculous. You were given a second chance; you must pay it forward by giving others a second chance as well."
She turned to the empty ocean beside them. "The water didn't give you life for no reason. You were given a second chance to carry out its will. The ocean is a dangerous place, whether it intends to be or not. Thus, us water spirits have the duty to protect mortals from the same fate we suffered."
When Beatrice faced Malia again, her sharp blue eyes were firm. "If you really want your life on land back, you're going to have to earn it."
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