FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 52: Drop in the Ocean

...

She looked to the eastern woman, not knowing what she was trying to find. Was it forgiveness? Reassurance? Finding only fear in those eyes, she returned to the shaking blade and- taking one final gasp of fresh air through the smell of her own puke- she grasped the hilt with both hands.

...

Cold water rushed over her body, chilling her to her core. It took a moment, but while the stars were dim and dull, and the once-brilliant gold diluted to an almost sickly yellow- she recognized it as the same sea she'd drifted through that morning... in her dream. But whereas, before, the waters were calm and tranquil, she could now feel the push and pull of the sea, rising and falling, threatening to entrap her in its cold depths.

-And that was the next thing Monica noticed. Last time, despite the sea, she had felt no need to breathe, but, here, now, the frigid sea pushed on her stomach and pulled at her throat as her body- was it her body?- clamored and cried for air. Pushing through the ice in her blood, she forced herself up and up to what she assumed to be the surface- streaming light shifting with the waves that stirred the water far above.

Just as she thought her lungs would burst, she broke through the surface of the turbulent, yellow-gold ocean and gasped for what oxygen she could find. But the air, rather than the fresh, salty, seaside air that she'd grown accustomed to in her time in Athens, was nothing but smog that burned her throat, leaving her coughing and retching rather than refreshed- all the while freezing rain fell like cold needles onto her head and neck. There was no sun or moon in sight, only black, black clouds.

It was a struggle to get air at all- the shock of the burning air left her reeling, and the next gasp she took left a mouthful of salt water in her lungs as a wave rose from under her and covered her mouth. She sputtered and gasped, her lungs and her legs crying from the effort of breathing the sulfurous air and treading the thick, churning waters.

She couldn't remain like this for much longer. Though she couldn't have explained why, she knew, simply knew, that there was more here than starry sea and smoggy air- a destination for her travel. And there- barely visible through the black sky, falling rain and rising sea, her patience was rewarded. A small island, almost nothing more than rocks on the ocean, was there; far but not too far. In the dark, one would've mistaken it for another wave if not for the columns that decorated it. She knew nothing; she only hoped that she'd find what she was looking for on those rocks, and so she pushed and paddled against the cold grasp of the sea and towards what she could only assume was salvation.

Finding a foothold, she began to weakly push up and out of the ocean, finally collapsing on her hands and knees in the gravel-like tidepool that made the island's coast. It was here, on her elbows, that she finally realized that she was naked- the cold-needle rain pricking and nipping at the sensitive skin that usually remained covered while the frigid wind sent shivers to her core. The air was worse here, far worse, and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe- but she dared not cough, and suppressed all urge otherwise: coughing only made the pain more difficult to bear.

She strained against her aching bones, ignoring her nakedness, ignoring the tremors that racked her body, ignoring the pain; she moved her shaking legs across the rocks, past the columns, barely able to maintain enough strength to keep her bare feet from slipping on the wet boulders.

-But the air just kept getting worse, more sulfurous, more acrid, as if eating away at her from the inside. And with the lowering quality, a greater gust, as if the source of the entire storm were approaching-or, more accurately, as if she were steadily approaching it. The island crested from its shoreline into a steep hill, and she found herself crawling up the rocks, the hard surface cutting into her knees and fingers, the slick surface threatening to let go of her weight at anytime, to let the increasing wind that whipped her wet hair push her back down, to scatter her and her hopes among the tide.