Luminous Descent Echo

Rippling shafts of light sliced through the canyon, illuminating petals that glowed like muted sirens and stirred a static hum in the mind. I crouched near the helmet—its lens fogged with cryptic ink spelling *Where Vojta?*—feeling the current press against me as if urging retreat. The fish drifted in erratic unison, their scales refracting pale notes of cyan that tasted metallic on the tongue, a harmony only panic composes. Every bloom pulsed with lavender radiance, casting fractured signals across the silt, and I translated them into warnings or prayers, unsure which would keep us safe. Behind me, Lira’s voice quivered like harp strings pulled too tight; she doubted the stillness, pressed for speed, claimed Vojta had never swum this deep. But I trusted the quiet geometry of these stone walls, their solemn patience anchoring us while time held its breath, suspended in glittering motes. We wait here, guarding what remains, though the question etched in glass keeps echoing, relentless: he has not returned, and Vojta is still lost.