The raft slid soundlessly into the embrace of the underground current, swallowed by the river's icy rush. Pale light flickered fitfully from cracks in the ceiling, scattering into shards across the black water—then vanished, leaving only roaring darkness. The echo of the river filled the cavern, a deafening thunder that drowned all else, even the ragged beat of two human hearts.
Lin Yan slumped in the raft's center. His left shoulder throbbed, the cold wind numbing but never easing the pain. Every jolt sent fire through his nerves; his fever blurred the edges of sight. The last glint he had seen back at the passage—like a needle of light stabbing from the dark—still burned in his mind, keeping him on edge.
At the bow, A Jin held the long pole like a seasoned boatwoman, reading the flow through sound and feel. Every few heartbeats she tested the sides or the unseen stones ahead, adjusting their course. Her thin back, taut with purpose, was the one steady form in the black chasm.
"How are you holding up?" she called, her voice thin against the roar.
"Still… breathing," he forced out. "A Jin—be careful. I think… we're not alone."
Her body went rigid. She glanced back; the tunnel behind was nothing but rushing blackness. Yet she believed him. In this place, doubt could kill faster than wounds.
"I know," she answered shortly, gripping the pole tighter.
The raft hurtled on. The ceiling lowered, the walls drew closer until the space felt like a throat about to close. The water turned fierce, boiling into small whirlpools that tugged at the raft's edges.
"Hold tight!" A Jin shouted. She shoved off a jagged rock, the pole straining in her hands. The raft shuddered, spray drenching them both. Lin Yan clung to the rope along the edge, barely keeping his balance.
A deep bellow rolled ahead—water crashing somewhere unseen. Light fled; only the ghostly flash of spray gave them any bearings.
"A drop!" A Jin's voice trembled. She could tell by the air's sudden pull and the sound's pitch—they were heading for a fall.
The raft shot forward, weightless for a heartbeat.
Then—WHAM.
They slammed into the lower channel, the impact wrenching a hoarse cry from Lin Yan as his wound tore anew. Water closed over them, freezing and wild. A Jin staggered but stayed upright, stabbing the pole deep to steady the spin.
They barely recovered when her expression changed.
"The pole—!" she gasped.
Lin Yan looked up. The middle of the pole had splintered from the last collision, a jagged crack running through it.
In these rapids, losing the pole was death.
And then—another sound threaded through the roar. A steady, rhythmic swish… paddles slicing water.
A Jin turned sharply. Far behind, a smaller skiff knifed through the dark, sleek and fast. On its prow stood a figure—broad-shouldered, lean, a shadow wearing a familiar outline.
The killer.
He'd followed. Somehow, he'd found a craft of his own.
Worse—he held a drawn crossbow. The glint of the bolt caught what little light there was.
Before them, danger; behind, certain death; and between, a broken tool.
"Down!" A Jin shouted, digging the cracked pole with every shred of strength to gain speed.
Lin Yan flattened himself as the killer's grin flashed—a pale line in the dark.
"Thwip!"
The bolt hissed past his ear and vanished into the current ahead.
Next one wouldn't miss.
A Jin swung the raft around a bend, aiming for cover behind a jut of rock.
"Crack!"
The pole gave way. Half of it spun off into the torrent.
The raft lurched, spinning helplessly in the surge.
The skiff was gaining, the killer calmly reloading. The bow lifted—this time aimed straight at the heart of the raft.
A Jin's eyes flicked from the broken pole to Lin Yan. A thousand thoughts and none. She opened her mouth—but he had already seen the same truth in her gaze.
No. Not here. Not like this.
He stared ahead, to where the river's roar deepened into a hollow, monstrous growl. The water there churned thick and strange. A memory struck him—on the Mute Uncle's map, a small spiral mark beside a warning he'd barely read.
He turned, voice raw:
"Front—vortex zone! It's marked! Hold the raft—let the river take us!"
A Jin understood instantly. Better to risk the whirlpool than die under the killer's bolt.
"Thwip!"
The second bolt shrieked through the dark, straight for them.
A Jin threw herself across Lin Yan, trying to shield him—but the raft jolted violently. An unseen force yanked them sideways, a sudden suction tearing through the water. The raft spun, hurled into a blind current that howled like a living beast.
The bolt whistled past, missing by inches, swallowed by the churning river.
Behind them, the killer's craft slowed, buffeted by the disturbed current. He shouted, furious, but did not follow. Even he feared the whirlpool's wrath.
The raft, with its two battered souls, was gone—spinning, twisting, dragged toward the heart of the maelstrom, where the river plunged into deeper dark.
The world tilted and broke apart.
Sound became thunder.
Light vanished.
And Lin Yan's last thought, before the dark claimed him again, was a single word that tasted of iron and river spray—
"Fate."