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Survivor stood trembling, the great void lapping at his feet. He gazed upon the end.
And yet, despite the fear, he felt a longing, a calling, a tug in his chest, urging him- needing him- to dive in. He knew that was his colony had come here; he knew it not from the directions given to him, nor common sense, nor even instinct. It was deeper than instinct. It was a knowledge that came to him more naturally than breathing. They were down there, waiting for him.
It was time to go home.
The fluid sizzled and burned as he struggled across its thick surface, but the burning was painless. When he reached the center, he looked down and saw nothing. A shiver passed through him.
He took his last breath and dived in.
His limbs dragged and ached from the effort of going down. The fluid was so dense it felt like every drop of it was trying to scrape the skin off his bones. Maybe it was. He was blind in the gold. His instincts begged him to exhale, but he held on to his breath, the last thing from above. But in the end, he moved too slow, the fluid was too thick. He choked out the air, lungs trying to suck in what they wouldn’t be able to find. Or shouldn’t have been able to find. But he breathed, really breathed the gold in. It was purer than any air in life. The first breath of a new life. Calm spread through his body. He watched the bubbles of the old breath try to reach the surface, but even they dissolved. Would the same happen to him if he tried to go up?
Good thing I’m not going up.
Did he really see it? A hint of bronze, indigo, black beyond the gold? He reached out and touched cold. Eagerly, he made the last few strokes, triumph rushing through him- until he saw the tentacles. His stomach flipped. He looked back up at the shine. There was nothing for him up there. He turned his sights back below and tried to steady his gaze on the writhing mass of white amongst the black, but they were too fast and many to focus on properly. He swallowed, kept in mind the dissolving bubbles, and continued his descent.
The effortlessness of swimming through the darkness shocked him after the top layer. It was easier than water. He went down fast and watched the white bodies; they called to mind leviathans.
The holy mud had been a struggle; the sacred leviathans were a fight. They never quite hit him, but they were so powerful the force of them swimming pushed him back, turned him right, flung him down. They were earthquakes given bodies. Great white beings battered the tiny white animal. He had thought he had known what it was like to feel small. He had been wrong. Beyond him, the lights of distant leviathans watched the fight in the distance, tantalizing, wild, mocking. He felt a dizzying sense of deja vu.
Finally, he managed to get out of the tangle. The last of the tentacles waved him on, the swimming was past him. All that was below was… nothing. Fear made him want to recoil, longing directed him further.
Further… further… further… never-ending. What if he had been wrong?
A tug in his chest wanted the void.
What if his family was gone, for good?
His heart wanted to escape.
What if this vastness never ended? What if he was left swimming forever?
No. This is right.
He just had to keep going down.
At that moment, he heard a humming. So faint at first he thought he was imagining it. But it grew louder, louder, until it drowned out the sound of his swimming, until he found himself suddenly looking into the face of a god. Not an mock superstructure, not a mechanical idol. This was an god beyond the ages ancient or young, a god above being constructed or natural, and when he looked into its eyes he saw a wisdom no mark of communication could ever translate.
It watched him for a moment before it raised a great hook and snagged his skin. For the first time in the Void, he felt a prickle of pain.
Then it swam.
It went so fast he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t tell what direction they were going. Tentacles waved. Golden sluice. Rushing, roaring, dizzying. He could see nothing but darkness and the god.
With a rush of sound, it slowed. Survivor got the vague sense he didn’t entirely have a physical body anymore, because he was sure he would’ve thrown up if he did.
He found himself locking eyes with it. It released the hook.
Thank you. His own thought surprised him, but it felt right. Its eyes seemed to reflect back an acknowledgment of the gratitude before it swam away, away to-
Light.
His heart pounded. The leviathan god circled the pinprick once before it came rushing back, up, up, up. And then it was gone.
He was alone. Sheer silence filled his ears.
He swam.
He was alone and he stayed alone, until the first glimpse of white. Another god? But no. He looked up and saw himself. He was not chilled by the reflection. A wordless understanding filled him.
More came beside him, as quiet and knowing, moving towards the deep light. The light became a rushing, and the rushing became a humming, and the humming became a pulse, a thumping, a pounding white life, filling, blinding, replacing the senses of the swimmers. Miles of descending down, and they knew the only thing left was to go up.
Ascending with the rest, the rest were gone. There was only one self now, and his eyes widened.
He had made it home.