The cold was constant, but over time, Maximus had stopped feeling it. Or perhaps it was his mind trying to adapt to the new reality. There was no way to measure the passage of time anymore; everything seemed the same, always dark, always still. The corpses floated around him, motionless, forming a macabre landscape that seemed eternal. Trying to move in that environment was risky. Every time he did, the bodies reacted with desperation, opening their empty eyes, stretching their hands in a futile attempt to grasp something that no longer existed. But it was the only thing he could do: learn to move in that drowned world.
At first, the only thing he could move were his fingers. He saw them, pale, rigid, as if they didn't belong to him. He made an effort to clench his hand into a fist, focusing solely on that small part of his body. His fingers responded slowly, clumsy, as if he hadn't moved them in centuries. Maximus repeated the movement, over and over, opening and closing his hand, trying to regain some control over himself. As he did this, he cautiously watched his surroundings. The corpses didn't react if he kept his movements small and careful. He had learned that after several failed attempts that ended with dead eyes fixed on him and hands thrashing in the water.
A long time passed—he couldn't say how long—before he decided to move beyond his fingers. He tried to flex his arms, moving them slowly to avoid disturbing the nearby bodies. The water was thick, and his body was heavy. Every attempt to move felt like a battle against gravity, a resistance that seemed to oppose each of his gestures. He tried to swim, but it was in vain. Every time he tried to push himself upward, the weight of his own body made him sink deeper into the depths. There was no buoyancy, no air to hold him up, only the weight of death.
Besides, there was no free space. The bodies were aligned with precision, as if each had an assigned place in that watery tomb. Maximus couldn't move without touching them, without waking their brief agitation. The horror of seeing their empty eyes open kept him on constant alert, reminding him that, although still, they were not completely absent.
On one of those occasions, just after another failed attempt to swim upward, he saw it. In the distance, a flash. It was barely noticeable, a small light that broke the darkness for a few hours before disappearing again. During those brief moments, Maximus could see the vastness of his prison: an infinite space, filled with corpses floating in an eerie calm. It was an endless army of bodies, all trapped underwater, just like him. But most importantly, that flash allowed him to see something else: a surface, far above, barely visible, but it was there. A glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.
That small ray of light was the only thing that gave him strength to keep going. He knew he had to find a way to reach that surface. Though his body resisted, though the gravity of the water kept him prisoner, he couldn't let go of the idea of escaping this horror.
More time passed. Maximus dedicated himself to training his body, day after day, though he had no sense of time passing. First the fingers, then the arms, and finally, he tried to move his legs. The effort was gigantic. His limbs were stiff and heavy, as if life had left his muscles and nerves long ago. However, little by little, he regained some coordination. He made small, controlled movements to avoid disturbing the fragile balance of the corpses around him.
Meanwhile, he continued to see the flash in the distance, increasingly aware of the vastness of the space surrounding him. There was no clear way to escape. He couldn't walk along the bottom; he was trapped among the bodies. And though he didn't feel pain or cold as long as he stayed still, the mere fact of being surrounded by death was unbearable. That absence of sensation was also unsettling. There was no hunger, no fatigue. His body was in a state of suspension that defied all logic, but his mind remained alive, tormented by solitude and despair.
Over time, he began to realize that he couldn't stay there forever. Each flash he saw reminded him that there was something beyond that abyss. But he didn't have an immediate solution. He could move, yes, but not enough to escape. His attempts to swim always brought him back to the same place, sunk, with no way out.
Despite everything, that small light, that occasional glow, kept a spark of hope alive. He knew there had to be something beyond. Maybe, just maybe, that light meant there was still a chance to escape this place. And so, day after day, movement after movement, Maximus prepared himself for the moment when he could make the final leap. It might take much longer to coordinate, but he had no other option. In the meantime, he waited in the depths, planning his escape.