Chapter Five
Ruby
The world comes back in fragments, like light filtering through cracked ice. Soft at first, then sharper, pulling me from the dark with a gentleness that feels almost deliberate.
My eyelids flutter, heavy and unwilling, and the first thing I register is the glow. Blue-green, pulsing faintly around me like the inside of a lantern, warm and ethereal.
It's not the cold dawn light from the lake, not the harsh fluorescents of a hospital room after the fall.
This is something else, something alive, wrapping around me in waves that soothe even as they confuse.
My body registers next, a strange mix of heaviness and warmth.
I'm lying on something soft.
Turf? Grass? With a covering draped over me, textured like silk but faintly salty, warmed through as if by hidden heat. It clings to my skin where my clothes are still damp, the fabric yielding under my fingers as I shift slightly, testing.
Mist clings in the air, thick and mineral-scented, carrying notes of sulfur and earth that ground me. It makes the space feel enclosed, safe in a way the cabin never quite did.
The air is humid, pressing against my cheeks, my lungs, each breath drawing in the warmth like a balm.
Faint sounds hum in the background. The fizz of water, a distant drip echoing off walls, like the lake's breath but softer, more intimate.
Disorientation hits then, a wave that makes my head spin.
Where am I?
The fall rushes back in pieces. The crack of ice, the plunge into freezing dark, panic clawing at my throat as the cold claimed me.
My ankle throbs now, a dull echo of that old injury, twisted in the chaos, but it's not the screaming pain I expect. Instead, it's muffled, as if wrapped in something protective.
I push myself up on one elbow, the silk-like covering slipping a little, revealing my leggings clinging wetly to my legs, my coat heavy but not sodden. My skates and socks have been removed, letting air hit my swollen ankle.
A grotto, that's what this must be, unfolds around me. Smooth stone ledges rising from rippling pools, the water glowing from within, vents gurgling softly like a natural kettle.
Algae cushions the edges, plush and inviting, the steam hanging like a veil, turning the light into dancing patterns that feel almost alive.
Rebirth. The word floats up unbidden, imagery wrapping around me like the haze. Emerging from the dark, the cold death of the lake into this warm, womb-like space.
My skin prickles, alive in a way it hasn't been since before the Olympics, before the numbness set in.
But with it comes the fear.
How did I survive?
The teal glow from the deep... was that real?
My heart quickens, breaths coming shorter as the memories sharpen. The slip, the crack, the betrayal of the ice mirroring that fateful arena fall. The crowd's gasps, the pain blooming hot through my leg, stealing my dreams.
I'd come here to escape that dependency, the way recovery left me reliant on others. Doctors, coaches, the pitying looks. Alone in silence, I thought I could heal myself. But now? Saved by... who? What?
The vulnerability twists in my chest, a knot of fear that this warmth is just another illusion, another fracture waiting to break me.
I scan the space, the glow casting soft shadows, and that's when I see her. A figure retreating slightly into the fog, her form otherworldly in the light.
Silver scales glint along a tail that coils gracefully into the pool, platinum hair hanging damp like silk threads, catching the blue-green hues.
Her skin shimmers pale with an opalescent sheen, eyes pale silver flecked with icy blue, luminous and intense. She's beautiful, in a way that steals my breath. Ethereal, like a frost spirit risen from myth, sharp features softened by the glow.
But terror flares alongside the awe.
Is she real? A hallucination from the cold? Or something monstrous, the lake's guardian come to claim me?
Her silver eyes draw me in, a spark igniting despite the terror. The pull towards her overrides the fear.
My pulse races, the steam suddenly feeling thicker, pressing in as I scramble back a little on the moss, my ankle protesting with a sharp twinge.
She pauses, her movements fluid, almost hesitant. She extends a hand, palm up, fingers long and graceful, scales faint along the edges.
It's a gesture of peace, universal and wordless, but my hesitation roots me.
Trauma surfaces in the pause. The distrust of my body after the fall, the way it failed me. The fear of needing help, of being weak in someone's gaze.
But curiosity tugs, that spark from the ice pulling me forward.
I reach out tentatively, my fingers brushing hers. Cool against my warmth, like touching chilled glass, sending shivers up my arm that aren't entirely from fear.
The contact grounds me, real and steady, her touch gentle as she checks my wrist, perhaps for a pulse, her silver eyes meeting mine with quiet intensity.
The awe deepens, terror ebbing just a fraction.
She's not harming me, not yet.
Her lips part, and a voice emerges, soft and resonant, carrying a faint vibration like the hum of the geysers.
"You're safe here, in the deep. I pulled you from the cold." Her voice is clear and accented with an underwater lilt, as if shaped by currents.
It startles me. How?
But the words soothe, evolving the gesture into connection. I swallow, my throat dry and hoarse from the water.
"Who... who are you?" I manage, my voice cracking like thin ice, still hoarse from the water that nearly claimed me.
She tilts her head slightly, her silver eyes steady and calm, reflecting the grotto's glow like polished mirrors.
"Eira," she says simply, her tone like a melody half-remembered, soft and resonant as if shaped by the water itself. "I am the guardian of this lake."
Guardian?
The word hangs in the fumes between us, stirring more questions than answers.
"I'm Ruby," I reply, the words tumbling out as I meet her gaze, curiosity edging out the fear entirely. "What is this place? How did you find me?"
I swallow, my throat tight, and glance around the glowing space again. The pools, the greenery, the impossible warmth.
"What... what happened? I remember falling through the ice. The cold..."
"You fell through the ice," she confirms gently, her words weaving a picture without rush or force. "The thaw weakens it more each year. The surface is changing, becoming fragile. I felt the break, saw your warmth sinking into the deep. I couldn't let you go."
My heart stutters at that.
Felt the break? Saw your warmth?
It's too much, too strange, but her voice holds no deception, just quiet fact.
Her gaze holds mine without pressure, like she's offering a hand across a chasm.
"You... saved me? How? I was drowning."
"I pulled you from the cold," she explains, her tail fin rippling the water faintly behind her, a subtle reminder of her otherworldliness.
"Through the tunnels below, the veins of the lake that lead here, to this grotto.
It's a sanctuary, fed by the hot fissures, hidden from the surface.
I broke my rules to bring you... we do not touch the living, do not draw them near.
But your pulse called to me, like a song I couldn't ignore. "
Rules? Sanctuary?
The vulnerability stirs deeper now, twisting with the fear of dependency that's haunted me since the fall.
But this feels different. Not pitying, like the coaches who saw me as broken, but protective, like she's sharing the weight.
My responses come haltingly, building like tentative steps on uncertain ice.
"The surface... is it far? My cabin. Everything's up there. How long have I been here?"
"Not far, in distance," she assures, her voice a soothing hum that vibrates faintly in the air, easing the knot in my chest. "But the deep keeps its own time. You've been here only hours. Not long. The cabin waits, unchanged. Your things, your silence... they're still yours."
As the mist swirls, Eira gestures to the pools' edges, where herbs grow in bioluminescent fronds. They glow faintly teal, their leaves soft and veined like underwater ferns.
"These will help," she says, plucking a few with care, her tail fin rippling the water behind her. She steeps them in a stone cup dipped into the hot spring, the water bubbling up warm and inviting.
The ritual unfolds cozily. Mist clinging in curls that carry a clean, minty scent, the liquid infusing with a soft glow as the herbs dissolve.
She hands me the cup, her cool fingers brushing mine again, intentional this time, the shiver pleasant now.
I sip tentatively, the tea warm on my tongue, herbal and soothing, with a faint luminescence that tingles as it goes down.
It eases the throb in my ankle almost immediately, warmth spreading like a gentle hand, mending from within.
We share the ritual, sitting close on the ledge. Her long tail coiled nearby, my legs drawn up under the seaweed. The fog envelops us like a shared blanket, the glow pulsing softly, turning the grotto into a nest of warmth.
I ask about her world, she shares snippets. Centuries of guardianship, the lake's breath as her companion.
In turn, I mention the cabin, my retreat for silence, the numbness that drove me here.
The tea warms me deeper, spreading through my veins like light breaking through clouds.
This grotto feels like a hidden cradle, the fall a plunge into nothingness from which I have risen, Eira's steady gaze guiding me back to life.
Tears prick my eyes without warning.
“I came here to be alone,” I whisper, my voice thick. “To fix myself without needing anyone. After the fall, the injury, I hated relying on others.”
Eira's gaze softens. Her hand rests lightly on mine.
“Strength isn't solitude,” she says, her voice humming faintly. “It's choosing to let the warmth in.”
Her words crack something inside me. Vulnerability shifting into strength. The tea's warmth mirrors the thaw in my chest.
In the stillness after the ritual, we sit wrapped in steam. The glow steadies around us like heartbeats falling into rhythm.
I trace the seaweed's edges absently and feel grounded for the first time since arriving. The numbness recedes like melting frost. Warmth lingering in my bones, a sharp contrast to the lake's remembered cold. The minty aftertaste soothing my throat.
Eira hums softly. The vibration travels through the air and syncs with my breaths, stirring a quiet pull in my chest that makes her presence feel like an extension of my own rhythm. The trauma's hold loosens.
Eira's cool scales press against my side, her tail draped over my leg like a steady weight that quiets the racing thoughts in my chest.
The old fears of falling, on ice, into dependency, easing under her touch until they feel like distant echoes. Reshaped into something solid we share in this mist-wrapped nook.
A spark flickers inside me, drawing my gaze to her silver eyes, to the way our breaths mingle in the humid air, this connection weaving itself without words. It tugs like the escape I once craved but now transformed into a gentle current pulling me deeper.
I hum back faintly, the melody from childhood rising soft from my throat, simple notes of a lullaby long forgotten. The water ripples in response, small waves lapping at the algae covered edges.
Eira's eyes brighten, a quiet spark dancing in their depths, her lips curving in a smile that promises more layers to uncover.
The grotto enfolds us, its warmth seeping into my bones through the moss beneath and the haze above.
The deep stretches out below, its shadows shifting from looming threats to open arms, beckoning with a whisper I lean into without fear.