She shoved off, kicking as hard as she could, but her dressing gown tangled around her legs like tendrils of kelp. Schools of fish darted away, spooked by her furious movements. I’ll have to crawl out. I will crawl out. For my son. For Ludo. To save him. I must save him. There was the strength she’d always had in spades, masked by her own exhaustion and the aura of melancholy that had snuck up on her when she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t gone at all, only lying dormant, ready and waiting the moment she called for it.

Using one hand like a claw and her toes as spears, she dug into the soft pond bed, hauling and pushing and fighting for every inch, until she was certain the sun-painted surface seemed a little bit closer. Her head was spinning now, her lungs starved for air, but she soldiered on for the babe cradled in her arm. Was he still breathing? Was he alive? She wouldn’t waste time stopping to check, her entire focus on freeing him from this watery tomb.

Nothing was working, the underwater slope too steep, the mucky terrain too unstable and slippery. More and more water entered her as her lungs couldn’t hold out any longer—they would attempt to breathe whatever was available. The pain was immense, the sensation horrific. I did this. Me. I failed him, I failed my precious Ludo.

As her vision blurred and fuzzed, darkness closing in, Lana would’ve given anything to hear her son’s wail one last time.

Why gods? Why did ye choose me? Why them?

Light faded.

Strong arms grabbed her, pulling her close, but she didn’t feel them. Strong legs pushed off the bottom, kicking hard for the surface. Heart in his chest, Kernan splashed through the shallows and then dragged his wife’s lifeless body onto the grass. “Lana!” he said, voice insistent. Her lips were a little too blue. Her eyes were open but unfocused, staring straight ahead, past his left ear. “Lana! I need ye! Come back to me! Come back! I don’ care that they’re not mine! I don’ care a lick! Please! Please. Please.” He sank onto her chest, muffled cries arising. The tears that streamed down his cheeks dripped onto her, mixing with the pondwater until they were invisible. As though he’d never even cried them.

Everything was still and peaceful, the perfect spring day. He could almost pretend they were here to have a picnic with their two children. He would say something ridiculous, and Lana would laugh in that way that had always drawn a smile to his lips.

A wail split the day in twain.