Tune felt the shock of the cold as they sank into the water, but sure enough, the little floating lights followed them, clustering around them in a chorus of warmth.


    They stared down into the deep, and the creature with the lights stared back. It appeared to be some sort of squid, somewhat larger than Tune, but probably not quite twice their height. At least not the main body, the tentacles seemed long enough. It had lights all along its length, and the floating lights dutifully attended it. Like what Hyacinth had been doing before, little rays of light shone out from some of its lights and beckoned the floating lights around Tune toward it. They pressed gently into Tune as they sank downward.


    They reached out toward the fascinating creature, wanting to understand everything they could before... Before what? What was the urgency?


    Wait, that seemed strange. Hadn''t there been something?


    They didn''t want to think about it. It was so warm right here, despite the cold of the water. There were so many of the little lights, it felt like they could stay here forever. They could be warm. They could simply explore. They wouldn''t have to be anything in particular, they wouldn''t have to be exhausted like that.


    Was this what it was like, then, to have a home again?


    The rope tugged on their wrist. Urgently, desperately. What was that about? They tried to let out a sigh. It was a bit difficult, in the water.


    It must be Hyacinth. They should go explain to him why nothing was wrong.


    What words would they say? How would they explain this feeling?


    Come to think of it, where was this feeling coming from?


    The creature wrapped a tentacle around Tune’s leg, pulling them gently downward. They looked at it, gazed into its patient eyes.


    If Tune was going to go talk to Hyacinth, they''d have to remove their blanket of warmth first, so they could make themself leave.


    They swept their arm through the floating lights, and they drifted away for just long enough that the cold water rushed in and the suppressed sense of urgency slammed back into clear focus.


    Tune grabbed onto the rope and kicked with their legs, trying to swim and pull themself along the rope. How long had it been since they''d taken a breath?


    Oh, they were not going to die of being manipulated by some floating lights and a random cavern squid. If they died like that they''d never be able to live it down (pun intended).


    They still weren''t quite taking this seriously enough, huh? They batted away some of the lights that had drifted close again and used the rope to pull themself up as hard as they could.


    The squid didn''t let go, so they kicked at its tentacle. It didn''t relent, so they shot a piece of the swirling darkness at one of its lights. That made it flinch just enough for them to heave themself up out of the water.


    Tune gasped for air, coughing and spitting out water. Their nose and throat stung from letting so much of it in. They continued to pull themself along the rope as Hyacinth pulled from his side.


    “The lights can dampen your sense of urgency,” they called out to Hyacinth. At some point they''d shifted back to their regular form.


    The squid pursued them, lethargically at first, then it surged forward as it began to think its prey was getting away. Several of its tentacles darted toward them, reaching to entangle their limbs. They shifted into their less tangible form and clung to the rope, still pulling themself forward as much as they could manage.


    The squid struggled more to grab hold of them, but still managed to wrap a tentacle around their ankle and tug. They winced at the pain of the clashing forces and tried to yank their foot away.


    A long shard of light crashed into the squid from the direction of shore. The squid recoiled at the heat and light, though it didn''t seem as bothered as most creatures in the Depths; given its apparent relationship to light, it probably didn''t have a particular sensitivity. Tune kicked away, redoubling their efforts to pull themself along the rope and push through the water.


    They glanced up, wondering how Hyacinth had managed to fire the light shard while keeping his grip on the rope. It appeared to have been Mira, actually. Aster, Mira, and Fennel had apparently noticed the commotion and run to Hyacinth. Mira had stopped partway through with her lantern and a knife.


    Aster reached Hyacinth and set up her own lantern to cut out patterns of light toward the squid. The squid recoiled, out of the way of the attacking light. Fennel helped Hyacinth with the rope, and soon Tune’s foot brushed the ground as they neared shore. With one last kick off from the ground and a heave of the rope, they were back on shore, breathing hard.


    Tune scrambled away from the edge and sank to their knees away from the water, shaking from some combination of cold and the last dregs of dying adrenaline.


    Also fear. It wasn''t like they''d want to admit it, but it was useful to be aware to themself that that was also there.


    If I''d been on my own, I probably would''ve died there.


    From such a small thing? How had they been overcome in such a small amount of time, with such simple tactics?


    Fennel stepped over and draped a blanket around them. They flinched at first, not having seen him approach behind them, but then they nodded in thanks, pulling it close around them. A part of them wanted the little floating lights back, for their warmth, but they didn''t trust the feeling of safety they exuded anymore.


    “Breathe slowly,” Fennel said softly.


    Slowly? I need to take in as much air as I can, I almost... No, he''s saying I''m hyperventilating. He''s probably right. Tune nodded numbly, forcing themself to slow down, breathe deeply and slowly as if they could be calm, as if they could think about anything other than how to avoid letting that ever happen again, as if...


    As if they were safe.


    Hyacinth, Mira, Aster, Fennel. People they''d basically just met, people that barely knew anything about them. Yet they cared anyway, for some reason. Hyacinth had been willing to be tethered to Tune, to risk being pulled in with them, just to make sure they''d have a better chance of keeping Tune safe.


    Tune breathed. Still, despite all the times it all could''ve ended. But this time, those breaths didn''t strike them as stolen, taken in defiance from a world that didn''t care about them. It felt a little like a gift from people that cared. Whether or not it was useful for them personally, whether or not Tune had proven they “deserved” it, they cared anyway. Why?


    As much as they wanted to know why, did they need to question it right now? It felt like maybe it''d break if they brought any attention to it. That didn''t really make sense, but it... Had to be fragile somehow, right? What else could it be? Wasn''t everything fragile somehow?


    Tune let out a long exhale and turned around to look at the others. Aster and Mira were working on getting a fire going - were they worried about Tune’s temperature? - and Hyacinth seemed to be inspecting his hands.


    They scooted over to him and saw that he had rope burns on his hands from pulling them to shore.


    Hyacinth glanced at them and chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, I think I was holding on too tight.”


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Tune met his eyes. “Thank you.” They gathered shadows onto his palms, displacing the light and heat there. They coaxed frost to form on his friction burns, then looked up at him again. “Does that help? I can keep going.”


    He let out a breath. “It does feel a little better that way. It’s not a big deal though, it’ll heal on its own.”


    “Too bad, I’m impatient.” Tune smirked mischievously, carefully forming more frost on the friction burns, trying to avoid making his hands too numb. They hesitated, touching their own hand to try to check the warmth, then placing one hand below Hyacinth’s. “I don’t want to get your hands too cold. Is my hand warm at all?”


    “Um... A little bit.”


    “A little bit for real, or a little bit as in ‘I don’t want you to feel bad so I’m exaggerating’?”


    Hyacinth blinked a few times, then gave a short laugh. “A little bit for real.”


    Tune placed both their hands on the backs of Hyacinth’s to counteract the cold, then thought retroactively that they should probably check if he looked uncomfortable. He didn’t seem especially uncomfortable, as far as they could tell. “Am I right that that is something you’d do? Exaggerate how helpful something is?” They raised their eyebrows at him.


    “I can neither confirm nor deny-”


    “You absolutely can.”


    Hyacinth chuckled. “How about ‘it depends’? I would do that if it seemed like it might be helpful.”


    “So I called it.”


    He sighed. “I suppose I must concede that you did, but I don’t have to like it.”


    “Oh, can you not celebrate the victory simply because it was mine and not yours?” They smiled to hold back a chuckle.


    “Will you take even that small privilege from me?”


    “Yyep.”


    “How ruthless.” Hyacinth laughed.


    “I win again. I stayed in character longer, hyeheh.”


    “Pfft. Good job, Tune, we’re all so proud of you.”


    “As you should be.”


    Fennel knelt by Hyacinth with some bandages prepared. Tune removed their hands.


    “Seriously, guys, it’s nothing major-” Hyacinth started.


    “The journey will likely continue to be intensive, so it’s best to treat it as well as we can regardless,” Fennel said. “We don’t want anything to get any worse than it has to.”


    Hyacinth bit his lip briefly, but let Fennel start bandaging his hands. “Was I that obvious about the burns?”


    “Not really,” Tune said.


    “Nothing gets past me,” Fennel said with a grin, which quickly faltered. “Okay, that’s demonstrably incorrect, but I do try. I’d rather know, always. I can hold back if you really need me to, but I at least always want to be aware.”


    Hyacinth winced. It seemed more from the words than from the injury, though Tune wasn’t sure why. “Thank you. I’ll... try to let you know.”


    Fennel nodded. “Good.”


    The group took some time to recuperate with warmth and food. They set up a makeshift shade cover for the fire to shield many of them from the light.


    “So, what was it that you saw over there earlier?” Hyacinth finally asked.


    Tune looked at him. “Oh, did I not say? There’s a boat.”


    “A boat? How big is it?” Aster leaned forward a little.


    “Probably big enough to fit two or three of us at a time,” Tune said.


    “So we’ll have to go over in two trips...” Aster sighed. “How do we get it over here?”


    “I can get to the boat, if you guys address the whole squid problem.”


    Aster looked at them with a sort of grimace. “Is that really our only option? I don’t want to make you do that again.”


    “Isn’t that my problem? I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t our best option, believe me.”


    Aster studied their face, concern written all over hers.


    “We at least know what we’re up against this time, and they’ll still be tethered to me just in case,” Hyacinth said.


    “Nope, not you,” Tune said immediately. “Not with your friction-burnt hands. We’re not risking making that worse.”


    He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again and nodded.


    “You can be tethered to me, then,” Aster offered.


    “Both of us,” Fennel said.


    Aster looked at him, paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”


    Fennel changed their configuration of security ropes while Aster, Mira, and Hyacinth set to clearing a path by beckoning the floating lights away from the area Tune was trying to get to. It didn’t take long to prepare, and soon Tune was staring down the water again.


    They’d already made an initial platform of ice. Now all they had to do was shift into their less tangible form and set off.


    Tune made a point not to linger on thresholds.


    Most of the time, at least.


    What more could they possibly have done so far to prove to me that I can trust them? Am I really that paranoid?


    Tune shook their head as if to shake off the hesitation and shifted forms seconds before they stepped onto the ice.


    They continued forward most of the way without incident, then froze as they saw light moving far beneath the surface. It disappeared after a moment of watching it, and they looked around frantically for a few seconds before taking a steadying breath and continuing forward. It didn’t appear again on their way to the boat.


    They’d been right about the approximate size. Whoever had left the little wooden boat had also left its oars with it, though a little carelessly, one in the boat and the other leaning on it. Overall, it looked to be in good shape. Sure enough, it perched steadily atop the water once Tune pushed it in, swaying slightly from the recent motion.


    They hopped in, took up the oars, and pushed off from the shore, forcing themself not to stall. The fog had long closed back in, leaving no trace of the other shore, but they had the two ropes pointing back in the direction they’d come.


    Tune rowed steadily toward the source of the ropes, the relative silence feeling a little suffocating around them. Occasionally a few lights would emerge from the fog, drifting toward them, then something would seem to shift their gaze away and they’d float away again.


    The squid didn’t attack them on the return trip either. They didn’t feel safe until they touched the ground again, with their own two feet.


    It seemed like a blink before they were in the boat again, heading toward the other side with Hyacinth and Aster.


    Being on the water again still felt a little like holding their breath.


    The distance wasn’t all that far, all things considered, and the boat wasn’t especially slow, but time still seemed to move languidly, as if it were suddenly much more viscous than usual all of a sudden.


    Hyacinth stared into the water as they made their way across. "It didn''t hurt, did it?" he murmured. "You didn''t even notice you were drowning until you''d gotten away from some of the lights."


    Tune hesitated, studying him. There was a strange, distant look in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”


    He looked suddenly uncomfortable, seeming to tear his gaze away from the water to meet their eyes. “I was concerned,” he said, to the tune of a half-truth.


    “No, I didn’t feel the pain in the moment. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt me.” They paused. “Besides, it hurt you in the moment, in a way. Wasn’t it frightening?”


    “It was.” He took a deep breath through his nose. “I didn’t know why you didn’t seem concerned, or how long you could survive down there... And I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you because of me.”


    “I wasn’t aware you were a squid in the Starless Depths,” Tune said, as deadpan as they could. Which they thought was pretty good, actually. “You learn something new every day.”


    Hyacinth looked up at them sharply. “What?”


    “It’d be because of the squid, not because of you. It’s not like you were the one that attacked me.”


    He let out a frustrated breath, though it didn’t seem directed at them. “I don’t think that’s a useful distinction. It doesn’t really change anything.”


    “Would taking the blame change anything?”


    “I’d make sure I learned from it. I’d make myself be better in the future.” He hesitated. “Somehow.”


    “You’re saying you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t think it was your fault?”


    Hyacinth paused.


    “Sometimes, guilt is all that can shock you out of the exhaustion,” Aster said from the front of the boat. “Uh, sorry. That’s just... what I’ve found. I’m sure there are better ways, though. Sorry. I don’t... I don’t want you to do that. I don’t know why I thought it was useful to mention.”


    There was a short silence. “I like to think that I’d try to learn from it regardless, but it’s...” Hyacinth seemed to be struggling to put it into words. “It’s all just so tiring. I’m always so tired of...” He blinked, looking at Tune again. “I’m sorry. It’s not your problem.”


    “Neither am I. I’m not your problem. You seem all too willing to shoulder my burdens, though. Seems like a bit of a double standard, doesn’t it?” Tune sighed. “Look, I do miss feeling safe. I’d never want to settle for that false safety, though. As much as its hold was strong on me in the moment, I choose to reject it now. And I can tell you that you deserve better too.” They pointed at him. “You can have better. We’ll blaze our own path, we’ll seize our own futures out of the jaws of fate if we have to.” They met his gaze intensely. “Okay?”


    He chuckled nervously. “I’ll do my best.”


    Tune nodded, dropping their hand.


    A few quiet moments later, the boat ground to a stop on the far shore.