Page 11 of Vasmora

A sarcophagus.

Akmyrios had placed them in the sarcophagi of the dead Magestroli.

“Dolion! Dolion, please help us!” Allura’s voice called out that time.

Before he could answer, a thunderous crack bled through the thick stone. His magic shuddered across the vessel’s granite surface, sensing every motion, as if his nerves wound through the object itself. The sarcophagus shifted forward, the stone floor beneath him grinding against another surface, vibrating across his back. His stomach rose with the sensation of falling, tickling his throat with the urge to vomit, before a crash beneath his feet buckled his knees and sent him tumbling forward into the stony lid of the sarcophagus that cracked against his skull in an explosion of stars.

Pain throbbed at his forehead and Dolion winced, his fingers wet with what he assumed to be blood as he palpated the spot. The vessel that housed him bobbed and swayed, throwing his body into the walls of the sarcophagus with ease, like his bones had turned to straw.

Rykaia and Allura screamed again, their voices distant, more panicked than before.

Dolion pushed at the lid of the sarcophagus, but it wouldn’t budge. Sealed shut, as was customary.

The sarcophagus keeled forward and a much calmer feeling of weightlessness settled over him, his Nexumis vibrating over the stony surface like an invisible skin.

Sinking. They’d been thrown overboard, that much Dolion could discern.

The stone cooled around him, the air growing frigid and heavy.

The screams faded.

For one brief moment, his panic ebbed to a peaceful serenity. Until the stone groaned, and the vessel plummeted faster, the water’s pressure pushing against the walls of the sarcophagus, pressing down.

The airtight container didn’t leak so much as a drop, which meant he’d be doomed to suffocate before anything else.

A few deep breaths, and Dolion closed his eyes, summoning Aeryz. Depending on how far they’d already sank, it could very well be a dangerous swim to the surface, but the alternative was no better.

The blast of air struck the lid of the vessel, and Dolion’s body jerked back against the unyielding stone beneath him, the bones around him blasting upright then clacking as they fell. The mage groaned, rubbing what would soon be a knot at the back of his head. An icy trickle at his ankle had him looking down to see a small leak where the water had breached the seal. He pushed against the lid again. “Damn it all. Open!”

Still, it wouldn’t budge!

A hard thud jostled the vessel, sending a faster trickle over his ankle, and at last, the falling sensation gave way to stillness.

He must’ve hit the bottom.

There was no sound.

No movement.

Nothing but the dying glow of his magic.

A quiet panic tore through him, the surrounding box growing smaller, the air thinner.

I have to get out!

He called upon Aeryz again, but the force of the blast beat against his face, rattling the bones around him. Even so, he tried again. And again.

Each second that passed, his sense of logic gave way to hysterics. He punched and kicked at the thick lid, to no avail. His breaths grew shallower, mind foggy, as he fought to remember his magic.

He placed his hand to the lid and closed his eyes, drawing on the residual power that’d been trapped inside with the dead mage. While he didn’t possess the power to wield it, not like the boy had, his Nexumis could still manipulate it. Waves of vibrant energy mingled with his own as the blood magic weaved itself through his own blood and bones. Dolion’s hand shook as he held it steady against the frigid stone, and the bones around him drifted upward, undoubtedly drawn to their former power.

Flames exploded across his palm, a powerful force throwing him back, knocking the wind from his chest.

Dolion gasped as the lid shattered its seal and shifted just enough to allow the icy ocean water to spill through the gaps in a violent rush. A raw and biting cold sank into his legs and arms that felt heavy as anchors. He fought against the pressure weighing down on him, channeling his strength into moving that damned lid. He needed to reach the surface before running out of air. Muscles stiff, he gave one more blast of magic that blew the lid off the vessel, and once free, Dolion clawed his way up the freezing, liquid wall toward the surface.

A tug at his chest warned that he hadn’t sucked in enough air before his ascent. The climb seemed futile, the surface invisible through the surrounding darkness, but still, he forced his arms to propel him upward, pushing through the endless meters of water above him.

The surface finally gave way to arctic air, so cold that not even his weathered body, which had long acclimated to brutal winters in Calyxar, could stand the needling pain across his skin.