She laid her hand in the hand of the goddess, looked into those stone eyes. A statue, she thought. And it wasn’t stone and carvings that held the star.
In the water, of the water.
As she said it in her head, all that surrounded her sighed it.
In the water, of the water. As was she.
Annika spread her arms, accepted, embraced. And began to spin.
I am of the water. I am the chosen from my world. I am the guardian. I am the redeemer. I am one who seeks. I am of the water.
She repeated it over and over in her head, spun faster and faster. She felt movement above her—Sawyer, her friends.
Of the water, to bring light to the dark. Redeemer, the Water Star waits. We wait.
I am of the water. The star is of the water. The goddess is of the water. From her hand to my hand.
As she spun, faster, faster, the water brightened, the light began to glow. Soft, soft, blue. Brighter, deeper, bluer.
As she had been born to, she lifted her arms, cupped her hands together. Above them, the water spun, glittered, warmed.
Above them, the star burst bright.
She laughed, pure joy, and around her the sighs filled with tears that echoed the joy.
Arms high, she began to rise, and the songs rang, rejoicing.
He watched her, heart thudding, the image from the portrait, but more brilliant, more stunning. With the star, blazing blue in the vee of her hands.
When she reached them, she seemed to fly, a glorious bird, higher, higher. And then spilling over, came back to them.
Back to him.
She held the star out to him, like an offering.
Gently, Sawyer closed her hands around it.
He slid an arm around her waist, looked to each of his friends. Together, guided by the blue, they surfaced in the cave.
He tore away his mouthpiece. “Anni.”
And crushed his lips to hers.
“You vanished, you scared me. You’re beautiful. You’re everything.”
“I had to go deep. Didn’t you hear the songs?”
“They tore at my heart,” Sasha said.
“You should take it.” Annika held the star out to Bran.
“When we get back. You’re made of magick, Annika. And we should go back, finish this.”
“Couldn’t we just take ten? I just want to swim out, see—”
Doyle grabbed Riley’s arm before she could. “Now.”
“Now,” Sawyer agreed. “Hold on to your hats.”