The men glanced between the hourglass and the blackish water, then trudged toward the ravine’s edge, their eyes wells of dread.
“Gentlemen.” The Proctor’s gaze floated to the floor. “Your satchels.”
Brown bags littered the stone floor, piled at his feet. With a growl, Tobias snatched up a satchel and threw himself into the water.
Silence surrounded him, a forbidding façade. Kicking himself toward the ravine floor, he scanned the waters, studying what little he could see; everything around him was still clear, still bright, but he couldn’t help but eye the darkness ahead, skeptical of what loomed within it. Seconds passed like hours, but the waters remained undisturbed.
And then two glowing eyes and a mouthful of teeth barreled toward him.
Tobias’s arms shot forward, and slick scales slammed against his palms. A wide-open mouth filled with hundreds of teeth waited in front of him, his hands clasping its jaws, keeping the Guardian at bay. Every impulse within him urged him to flee, but he didn’t move, gaping at the cavernous throat as if it were his grave.
Seconds later, the Guardian shook his hands from its face and swam off.
Tobias floated, perplexed by whatever had or hadn’t happened. Despite his rattled nerves, he continued on his descent, the quiet drowned out by his pounding heart. A Guardian swam up beside him, and he forced himself to travel deeper, desperate to abandon the creature. Another approached, staring right at him before swerving away, and a third rounded him, then quickly disappeared. One by one, Guardians came and went, each one dismissing him. No—avoiding him.
The keys glimmered ahead, and Tobias plunged toward them, grabbing fistful after fistful. Pain nipped at his strained lungs, but his body was strong, untaxed. Soon his satchel was nearly full, and with the Guardians keeping to themselves, the challenge felt different.
Easy.
Flynn swam in from the darkness, scouring the ravine floor before stopping short, his eyes on Tobias. Following the path of Flynn’s gaze, Tobias gazed down at the center of his chest.
At the glowing handprint beaming from his flesh.
Flynn darted toward the surface, and Tobias trailed behind him, glancing between the path ahead and the handprint. When did this happen? He tore above the water and hoisted himself onto the floor; the handprint was gone, but Flynn stood before him, his hands on his hips, his face hard. Angry.
“What the hell, Tobias?”
“What?”
“What do you mean what? You’re glowing!”
Beau pulled himself from the ravine. “He’s glowing?”
“Are you blessed?” Flynn hissed.
Competitors congregated around Tobias, watching, waiting. How can I be blessed? He turned to the line of women—to Cosima, Her steady gaze, Her smile.
“Cosima… She touched my chest…”
Caesar threw his hands into the air. “Fucking hell, She blessed him again!”
“And you said nothing?” Flynn spat.
“I didn’t know.”
“He lies,” Beau said. “How could he not know?”
“Even if I did, why would I need to inform any of you?”
Flynn pointed to his satchel. “Good God, look at all your keys!”
“Proctor, the challenge is flawed.” Caesar marched toward the old man. “The Artist has a tactical advantage!”
Laughter sounded behind them. Kaleo sat along the ravine’s edge, his feet dangling in the water.
Caesar crossed his arms. “You think this is funny?”
“It’s hilarious,” Kaleo said. “All your bitching and moaning over our blessed Artist. Completely shortsighted, the lot of you.”
“Shortsighted my ass,” Caesar said. “You may not give a shit, but the rest of us aim to win.”
Kaleo chuckled, glancing Tobias’s way. “Enjoy your swim, Artist. Look out for monsters beneath the surface. Hard to hide from them when you’re glowing, yes?”
He jumped into the water, leaving Tobias with the surrounding men—and their bitter glares. Oh, for God’s sake…
The Proctor cleared his throat, cocking his head at his hourglass. “Continue.”
Holding tight to his satchel, Tobias dove into the water. A Guardian swam past him close enough to touch, but the creature and its hideous friends were the least of his concerns. His eyes drifted to his chest; there it was again, that damn glowing handprint, and just as he was about to curse his state, a body whizzed by.
Caesar?
Soon after, Beau appeared from the darkness, shooting Tobias a glare as he swam at his side.
Are they following me?
He touched down on the ravine floor, and the two Lords dove for the keys, exploiting his light. Tobias wedged himself between them only for Beau to elbow him away, and he grabbed a fistful of keys that Caesar swatted from his hand. Others accumulated, following his path like a school of fish, and when Flynn joined in, Tobias’s