I bend low to the ground, running my fingers through the damp sand. My power searches through the cold, course particles and in my throat, I smell and taste every bit of the ocean. I take a chunk of that sand and grind it through my palm, all the while standing to ask Renit if he's figured out the location of the first crystal yet.

He hasn't. We've been standing on the beach for nearly an hour, searching through my power for that crystal, but haven't found anything. He flips through the pages of the book again, nearly tearing them at the seams, and mutters underneath his breath about how foolish this is.

The wind tears at our clothes and the rain that might as well be mist patters down onto the sand. Only feet away does the water meet the shore, embracing only for a second before disappearing again. I watch that water drift back, catching on small rocks and shells before sinking down into the caramel colored sand. The same sand that is now crusting my boots.

For as far as my eyes can see, the ocean carries and melts into the grey skyline. What was a powerful storm minutes ago with lightning and rumbles of thunder, is now mist and the dying out of such extremes.

My hair has turned damp, my clothes are sticky, and I find myself shivering with every bout of wind threatening to drag that storm back in.

But Flitsea has gone on as normal as if this storm is a daily routine and if they slow down for it, that's the end of this entire operation. They survive based on fishing and just off the shore, out towards the rocks, a fisherman pulls a net from the water and shouts to his family to gather the cleaning tools. Fish thrash from where they're trapped—unaware that their final moments are approaching.

"Any bit of location has been smudged out," Renit grumbles. He slams the book shut and despite the damp air, dust clouds the leather. We brought some of the castle with us.

I urge for the book, a curling of my fingers, and he drops it into my palm. A second set of young eyes will not do us any good but at least it looks like I'm trying to find something. I might, eventually, if I stare at these damn pages hard enough.

In ancient text, the location of the crystals has been left up to us. The ink has long since faded but I squint hard at the words. Whoever wrote this decided to use the most complicated handwriting possible; as if this wasn't hard enough. I wanted to stay in the castle and mend my relationship with Celestine, maybe go so far as to rehabilitate Silas but here I am, days away from both of them.

I make out a few of the words to be: pointed peak, popping, buried. That doesn't make any sense. I bring the book closer to my face and locate the word 'ear' in front of popping.

Something clicks. "I know where it is!" I exclaim.

Renit turns quickly, ripping the book from my hands before I can show him what I've deciphered. His metallic eyes shift quickly over the pages, excitement causing him to skip over words, until he frowns and presses the book against my stomach in defeat. "Are you going to gloat or are you going to tell me what you've discovered?"

I grin. That only makes his impatience worse. "We need to find a pointed peak—a rock. That's where they buried the box housing the crystal. It's in the ocean and we have to swim deep enough for our ears to start popping!" I jab my finger against the paper, the sense of accomplishment flooding my thoughts. I did it. I discovered something before Renit could.

Instead of him jumping directly towards finding the pointed rock, his mouth quirks to the side. "That can't be right. It's not that simple. Wouldn't the ancient witches use...riddles or something?" He asks.

I shake my head before he can finish speaking. "No, this mission is already difficult enough." I chew on my cheek. "The locations of the crystals are spread out for the sake of difficulty but their descriptions—underneath the right eyes of the Marron bloodline—are available for viewing. It was just bad luck that the ink faded."

Wanting him to understand the madness of what I've discovered, I show him the pages and point at the words I've deciphered. Renit squints, scrunching up his lip, and then stands up straight again with a sigh. "There's no harm in trying, I guess," he grumbles.

Satisfied, I shut the book easily and tuck it underneath my arm. I haven't seen a pointed peak around here but I haven't exactly been looking. And that's the next step.

Renit and I scour the beach, walking through the damp sand and battling the storm that finally made its way to the small town. Now the workers can do nothing but wait it out as the sheets of rain block out so much visibility that the stone buildings on the sides of the closed-in streets are merely shadows through the lightning.

We trudge on, ducking our heads low. Along the ocean water, we search for that pointed peak. The fishermen leaving the shore give us strange looks, quietly asking why we're out here and haven't gone to seek shelter yet. But there is a more important matter at hand, one they're not supposed to understand.

It's not until I'm soaked head to toe, shivering in my water-filled boots with a headache from my teeth chattering that I finally spot something miles from the small town of Flitsea. The lightning that cleaves through the sky reveals a pointed peak amongst ocean-side rocks. Waves crash against the side, spraying mist into the air.

"There!" I shout over the thunder.

Renit wipes the dripping strands of hair from his forehead and through another bolt of lightning, catches a glimpse of that grey rock. It juts out from the edge of the ocean, towering towards the sky—a beacon for lightning—and rests solidly against another wall of stone. The many layers are jagged and tipped with peril but I don't think about that as I make my way up the slick stone and brace my hand against the side.

I'm moving so quickly that Renit can barely keep up. We slip over the rain-splattered divots but when my hand finally grazes that pointed peak, I feel the age underneath. This boulder is older than Renit, the king, and the land itself. We have to be in the right place.

I look down into the dark waters folding over themselves against the storm. Another wave collapses against the side and slams against the peak but the stone holds firm. Mist sprays and I blink away my blurred vision to find Renit standing there, staring down into the choppy ocean.

"I'll go down there," I offer, shoving the satchel holding the book and a small meal for when we trudge back. At least we came prepared.

The prince snorts. "You're not going down there alone. I've already thrown you into the ocean once, I'm not about to do it again."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Last time I checked, I'm the one with the power of ground. I'll find that box much quicker than you'll be able to. My power extends to the ocean floor as well, foolish prince." My eyes brighten, golden against the dullest grey, and Renit closes his own.

Water drips down the bridge of his nose and sinks into his dry lips or dribbles down his stubbled chin. He has no choice but to agree with me, if he goes down there instead, we'll be here for hours. Witches have the same breathing capacity as humans but with the right power, that box will be located with ease.

I'm already scouring the distant ocean, faint but there. A dull hum pounds through my head.

"Fine," Renit obliges. "But don't stay down there longer than you have to. If you can't find it, come back up for air."

I turn towards the ocean, tugging off my boots. One less thing to weigh me down. I peel off my jacket, leaving me in nothing more than a sleeveless top and my trousers, empty of weapons or useless weight. I hand my belongings off to Renit and drag a hand down my face one last time.

Renit grabs my arm and I barely turn to face him. My feet don't want to leave the pale rock underneath. "I can go down there instead. If this brings back too many memories—"

"No," I interrupt. "I can do this." I have to do this; my power is the only reason we can. Renit finally steps back and gives me the space I need to once again dive to my doom.

This time will be different. The ocean isn't as rocky, Renit's storm doesn't demand it, and I won't have a threat on the other side. My parents are already gone and Celestine is safe. The only thing holding me back now is my fear of the past.

With a clench of my fist and the brutal reminder that this is the life I asked for, I jump off that rock in a headfirst dive. That dull throb from the ocean floor turns into a full pound as the ocean swallows me from head to toe. At first, the waves grab hold and tug me against my will but with the power of ground to steer me in the right direction, I head towards the ocean floor with wide strokes.

Renit is no doubt holding his breath, waiting for me. I can't be down here long, he'll come looking for me if I don't come up for air. This is one of the many times I have to be smart about my decisions to drive him insane.

I blink away the burning in my eyes, power searching wildly, and feel around. Through my stomach, my brain, my heart, the ancient ocean calls to me. The ground is down here, too, and my power can sense it. An ancient strength to match ancient land.

Heading straight down from the pointed peak, my ears begin to pop. The pressure is taking hold and my lungs are burning. I'll need air soon. Yet I keep swimming.

The ocean floor is littered with white sand, abandoned shells and rocks, coral, and small fish that skitter past when I approach. I drain what I can of my power and use all of my resources into finding something other than the ancient feel of rock or lost belongings left untouched for centuries.

My head starts to spin but I feel it then, as my arms go numb from exhausting so much of the power of ground. I twist rapidly, finding it there, in a cluster of black rocks. I swim quickly, tearing at the sand. That crystal calls to me, it smells like the Marron bloodline, of a castle built on the foundation of blood and death.

I need to take a breath, my brain screams at me to do so, but I keep digging. Our immortality keeps us alive for much longer than a human but that will not be enough.

My shaking hands scrape into the sand, all the while trying to keep myself from drifting back to the ocean surface. The choppy waters will not bode well for getting back down here. Time is limited.

Scraping against something solid, my nails dig into wood and splinter. Whatever power keeping this box from decaying is starting to fade. Hurry, I tell myself. Dig it out.

With every intention of doing just that, I yank that box from the rocks. Sand furls around the removed object and sinks into the small hole left behind in the center of that black cluster of stone.

I can feel myself fading. The ocean begins to fade to black as I brace my feet against that rock and tuck the box underneath my shirt. If I don't make it to the surface...at least I'll have what we need. With an exhausted body and power, I push off and swim weakly to the surface.

That is much farther than I think it to be. My eyes droop, my body relaxing, and the last thing I see is a bolt of lightning cleaving through the sky before everything turns black.

In what feels like eternity, pressure slams against my chest, one beat after the other, and then—something shifts. Water sputters from my lips and I'm coughing, turning on my side to find a dark mass there to catch what I'm releasing from my lungs.

A warm hand braces against my back as I heave until there is nothing left inside my lungs and I'm breathing again without the presence of water. That is when everything comes back. I fainted. My lungs had given out and I...drowned.

The box. Where is the box?

I look around wildly, searching until I find it, directly next to my head. As if the prince left it there so I would find it first instead of him kneeling there, knocking against my chest to release the water in my lungs.

His sand crusted hands grip onto the sides of my face and force me to meet his stare, full of fear and guilt. Renit searches my eyes and when he finds life there, he relaxes. "You didn't listen to me," he growls.

Not wanting to argue with him, I slip out of his grip and rest the back of my head against the sand. The storm has calmed and all that is left are the dark clouds, distant thunder, and faint mist kissing my cheeks. Even the near crash of the waves is not as dangerous as they once were—however long its been.

"I got the box," I rasp.

"I don't care about the damn box," the prince snaps. "If I wouldn't have dragged you out of the ocean, you would have killed yourself."

He finds his way into my line of sight, hovering over me with one hand braced beside my head. Water clogs the dark strands of his hair and a new wave of fatigue has spread over his features. He's crusted with sand from head to toe, as if he rolled in it after dragging me out of the water and laying me on the shore.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the pointed peak. We haven't gone far. Renit grips my chin again and forces me to look at him. Although dazed, I meet his stare. "Don't do that," he warns.

"Don't do what?" I shake my chin out of his grip, even if it aches every muscle in my body to do so. Drowning mixed with power drainage does not bode well for a witch's body. A month ago, Renit would have kept that grip tight enough so I couldn't move an inch against his fingers. His thumb braces against the tip of my chin and the sand particles from his palm rub against my cheek.

"Don't...neglect your safety. It's not smart." Renit pulls away and sits back on his heels. "I thought you were dead."

When I raise my eyebrows at him in question, silently asking if he cares whether I'm dead or alive, he rolls his eyes and stands, taking the box with him.

Offering down a hand to me, he clarifies, "We can't afford for you to die. Not yet. I still need your power."

Smirking from the corner of my mouth, I take his hand and he pulls me to a standing position. The jacket and boots I discarded are back in my hands and I keep them there as we walk back along the shore. I let the sand sink between my toes and tickle the bottoms of my feet, apologizing to my power for ever putting it in such a dreaded position.

Renit doesn't speak, there isn't anything that would be worth saying in this moment. Other than thank you, a phrase he doesn't use often, the prince can't make it appear like he cares more than he should. But deep down, I know he does. The fear in his eyes did not come from the thought of losing my power to the ocean.

The prince would have blamed himself if I died in his company, too.

He carries everything for me, including the box housing one of the crystals. I study the dark wood, nearly black and covered in hints of the ocean. It's nothing more than a small chest with a flat lid and strong lock around the front that only the king can open. Otherwise, I am not to do anything with this box other than look at it.

Renit holds it tight in his grip all the way back to the inn, hiding it underneath my discarded coat when the fishermen regard our conditions. They stare, looking for anything of importance, but find nothing. And they won't, considering one of the most important treasures to the kingdom is right underneath their noses.

But to them: out of sight is out of mind.

We make it back to the inn without any problems and the woman behind the counter gives us her withering stare, mixed with confusion at our conditions. We're soaking wet, covered in sand, and both look like we went through a battle and barely made it out alive. But she doesn't say anything and instead rolls her eyes before turning back to drying the cups in front of her.

Our boots scrape against the wooden stairs and then, all the way to the shut door of our room that takes effort to open. Renit steps forward this time and shoves his shoulder into the wood so the door will break free. I don't have the strength to give it a go, I can barely walk as it is.

Fish from our meals lingers but a new freshness has blanketed through the room—likely because of the clean set of clothes sitting on the edge of the bed. I smirk down at the tunic on top and graze my fingers over the empty pocket. No silver coin. She received my extra gift, then.

A soft thud sounds from behind me and I turn to find Renit staring down at the box he placed carefully on the desk. There's nothing special about it, anyone who could have found it before us would notice the lack of importance. Is that meant to be or were resources for crafting anything else too scarce? To make the box appear unworthy would be to decorate it exactly how it is. Basically—with nothing.

After sitting at the bottom of the ocean for hundreds of years, it has remained intact. The wood didn't rot, the gold band along the outside didn't rust, and the lock never broke free. I take the box in my hands, feeling the light weight on my fingertips, and try to find something that indicates importance. But I can't find it.

This is just a simple box with a crystal on the inside. "Very anticlimactic, don't you think?" Renit asks, his voice tired.

"I expected more from this, I guess." I cock my head to the side and turn the box, examining the back as well. There are no inscriptions or metal plates detailing who put this box together but everyone knows—the first witches that came here along with Renit's ancestors. With the will of the land, they created dozens of these crystals to help in the event that someone would need them. A gift from those that fought for stolen land.

"We won't know the true extent until my father opens these boxes," Renit goes on to say. He takes the box back in his hands and twists it back and forth. Inside, a Moldavite is waiting to be used for whatever the king has planned.

I've studied crystals, it's one of the most important teachings for witches if they ever plan on using them. Although rare to find except through ways of maps and suspicious traders, we're supposed to know everything from the names to what the crystals are used for.

Moldavite is one of the rarest crystals in the land and also, according to my mother, one of the ugliest. It's referred to as the Crystal of Connectivity, which would normally be used for the Grounding process if it wasn't for Nuummite being specific to ground and storm. But the king can't have something in mind for Grounding, there are easier ways to go about it.

There has to be something else he's trying to accomplish, connecting one thing to the other. Before I can finish my thoughts and venture to the possible truth, Renit clears his throat and yawns. "I'm going to clean the sand off of my body. We leave at first light and head for the Blood Desert so don't stay awake too long. We have things to do."

With a careful hand, Renit hides the box inside the satchel and slides it underneath the bed. That is our treasure. If anyone decides we're worth robbing, they'll have to go through both the prince and myself before getting to what they desire. They'll be dead before they set foot in the room.

Renit takes a bath first, a quick one as he saves some water for me, and then it's my turn to rid myself of the ocean. The familiarity of the salt and sand drifting away reminds me of the first day I was stuck in the castle. Mani helped me bathe and the water was the same—covered in my last moments in Arego.

I try not to let that bother me as I slide in to the other side of the bed, keeping my distance from Renit, and stare into the crack of the curtains until my eyes are too heavy to stay open.