I COULD HEAR THE ROARING OF A RIVER.
Not the Sable River. This was different.
This was everywhere. This was bigger.
The Undercurrent whispered to me, called my name.
The rushing of water through my fingertips, the cold seeping into my skin, the blackness running through my veins. As I let the current carry me, I reached out my hand and brushed something vital, something huge and inhuman and very much alive, even in this place of death. It whispered to me in the voice of a monster, singing me a song of blood and power, caressing my soul with its long, spindly fingers, wrapping them around the very essence of me.
Distantly, I was aware of a pull, of something trying to yank me away from this perfection, and I fought it. But the creature that lived in the Undercurrent laughed while it dragged its fingertips along the seams of my soul, knitting me back together in its own image. Go, it said, urging me home, returning me to the living with its fingerprints all over my heart.