Instead of the usual dark voids or distorted visions, this time it was different. The moment we blinked, we were submerged into a living, breathing ocean. The water was dark but shimmered with an eerie luminescence, like the sea itself was aware of us. Waves slammed into each other with furious force, trying to push us apart, to swallow us whole. But we stayed together, held by Maya. She hovered just above the water, her form steady, the faint glow of her power creating a protective bubble around us. Within it, we could breathe, could move, could resist the chaos that wanted to tear us apart.

  Her arms trembled slightly, and I could see the strain etched into her face. Even Cameron, strong as he was, flinched at every swell, his hands gripping the edges of the bubble as if sheer force alone could anchor us.

  "We have to hurry," Cameron said, his voice tight with worry. "I don't think Maya can hold out much longer."

  "I'm fine," Maya said, her jaw set, the tiniest quiver betraying her words. "Don't worry about me."

  "You're not fine," I snapped, my voice rising over the crashing waves. "Not in the slightest. You're pushing too hard."

  "Exactly," Cameron added, urgency lacing his words. "Remember what Sensei Shu said about pushing past your limits? But even he never said 'kill yourself with effort.'"

  Maya didn't argue this time. She just let out a long, frustrated breath. "Fine," she muttered, almost inaudible over the roar of the water. And still, she pushed us forward, her bubble cutting through the waves, shining like a fragile star in the storm.

  A boat appeared in the distance, brown and modest, its edges battered by the tumultuous sea. Two figures stood on it, locked in a tense conversation. My heart leapt when I saw them. Jordan. Her short black hair plastered to her face, brown skin shining with salt and water, clothes soaked but familiar. And the other woman—older, ethereal, a mirror of Jordan in a way that was both beautiful and terrifying.

  As we drew closer, I remembered something Jordan had said during game night, something about loss and grief. Her mother. Her pain, her youth taken by the absence of someone who should have been there. And now, seeing her again, I felt that weight press against my chest, a familiar ache of helplessness.

  Jordan didn't notice us. She was entirely consumed by the moment, her voice cutting through the storm.

  "Why did you leave me? Why did you leave us? I needed you. I needed you to stay. I still need you, Mom. I can't do it alone. Not anymore. Please, I'm begging you. Don't go."

  Her mother's voice, calm and distant, reached her through the chaos. "Oh, my child… my sweet child. I wish I could, but I just can't."

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  Jordan's voice broke, raw with desperation. "Mom, please! I need you to stay. Dad… Dylan… Gabe… Brian… they all need you. I need you."

  Her knees sank into the deck as she gripped her mother's shorts, her fingers clutching desperately. "So don't go."

  Her mother's hand moved slowly to caress her cheek. "You're so beautiful," she whispered.

  And then—the boat flipped.

  The world became chaos.

  Jordan screamed, the sound almost lost in the roar of waves. Maya's eyes widened, and Cameron shouted, grabbing her as they held each other for balance. And I… I was ripped under the waves alone.

  The cold hit me like a physical blow. My lungs burned, my chest ached, my vision blurred. The boat—shattered—pummeled me from above as I struggled. I kicked and thrashed, panic clawing at me, every instinct screaming to breathe. Water filled my lungs. My limbs moved in slow motion. But then, just as I felt the world tilt toward despair, a familiar pocket of air surrounded me. Maya's bubble. Her effort.

  I gasped, tasting sweet oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours. Relief shot through me, but there was no time to revel. The waves still threatened, dark hands of water clawing at me from below, chains of liquid pulling at my legs.

  I glanced to my left. Maya and Cameron's eyes met mine, and they mouthed something. Their expressions, clear despite the chaos, gave me direction. I understood immediately: Go save Jordan.

  To my right, Jordan lunged, trying to reach her mother, who was dragged beneath by water-chains, spectral fingers clawing at her from the depths. She didn't see me yet. She wouldn't survive if I didn't act.

  The bubble's floor was smooth, firm beneath my feet, the only stable ground in this ocean of madness. I swam as fast as I could, cutting through the water, my sword drawn. Jordan's mother reached for her again, desperate, dragging her down.

  With a swift, precise movement, I swung my blade. The water around us hissed as I severed the spectral arm threatening to pull her under. Jordan's feet hit the bubble floor. She stumbled, shocked, disbelief in her eyes.

  "Why—why did you do that? What gives you the right? I could've saved her—I could have—"

  "No!" I shouted over the roar of the waves. "You couldn't! You would've died with her. And I won't let that happen!"

  Her shoulders slumped, and she sank slightly against me. The tension in her body eased slightly, and the weight of the storm seemed to lessen around us. Her face, a mask of shock and disbelief, slowly began to soften