The next chamber was filled with water, cascading from the ceiling in torrents. The path ahead was submerged, and the water swirled with a dangerous undercurrent. At the far end, the second key to the artifact shimmered beneath the surface, almost tantalizingly close.
"We'll need to dive for it," Isolde said, scanning the room.
Garrick took a step forward. "I'll go. I can swim against the current."
As Garrick dove into the water, the current pulled at him with more force than expected. The water seemed to resist him, pushing him back each time he drew close to the key. Elara, watching from the shore, felt a strange pull—like the water was calling to her.
Without hesitation, she stepped into the water. The moment she touched it, the current stilled, parting like it recognized her as one of its own. She reached for the key, her hand closing around it easily.
When she emerged, Garrick smiled, his pride in her clear. "You're becoming more powerful every day."
But Marcus's jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides. Elara had succeeded again—effortlessly—where he had failed. The feeling of inadequacy gnawed at him, and though he didn't speak, the tension between them grew heavier with every step.