A/N : Well, my goal was to have this up two days ago, but I guess 48 hours difference isn't so bad. This is pretty much the climax of the story. By the end of this chapter we've finally entered the 14th of April. Which means, if you're keeping track, we're almost getting to the point where you should start to be worried... but not quite yet. Actually, this chapter sort of took a life of its own in that what I intended to happen when I started this section got tossed completely to the sidelines and probably won't show up now for a good chapter or two. My distraction went to the point where I should better warn you all about some M content so brace yourselves. May be triggering!

An incredibly huge MASSIVE thanks goes to everyone who reviewed. Thank you for doing it and leaving a comment on my work. It means very much to me.

Thanks to my wonderful beta Courtland for enduring the difficult task of hunting, ripping apart and burning my grammatical errors. Also thank you for helping me to elaborate some ideas and plots - you're the best.

CHAPTER XIV

Where Eternity Ends

"Was this true love indeed,

or something else I was too blind to see.

How could you hear me pour out my emotions

without having any sorrow or devotion."

13, April 1912;

Arm in arm, Elsie, Anika and Genevieve made their way from the Third Class Dining Saloon whilst singing, "Nearer, my God, to Thee" at the top of their voices. It was a testament to their mutual high spirits - even Genevieve was belting along; given that she normally would have been hanging back looking as though she feared for her companions' sanity.

Elsie Hughes, sandwiched as always between the other two, was feeling particularly plucky. Between the buoyant atmosphere in the steerage decks, the discovery that fruit was indeed available at all hours, and the fact that she had made it a whole twenty-four hours without feeling even remotely close to bursting into tears, Elsie was fairly certain that nothing could being her down from her happy mood.

Between bites of apple, the three women yodelled their way through the song, half-skipping down the hallway and drawing alarmed looks from anyone they passed on the way. It turned out that not one of the trio knew their chosen ditty in its entirety. By the time they reached the main staircase that led up to the General Room and the exit to the Well Deck, they were all alternating between inventing words and substituting choruses of "la la la's" in the place of actual lyrics. They were laughing so hard that Elsie might not have even noticed Charles half way up the stairs; had it not that he turned to stare at them in bewilderment. As it was, the other girls still didn't see him there, doubled over as they were, shrieking with laughter.

Charles must have gone back to his cabin because he had his coat and hat on. Elsie caught his eye, grinned, and opened her mouth to call a greeting. Before she could say anything, however, he turned and bounded the rest of the way up the steps and out of sight. Elsie frowned; it was odd for him to pass by without so much as a hello, even stranger of him to miss out on such a perfect chance to tease her. Puzzled, Elsie allowed the other girls to drag her up the steps and back into the common area, eventually joining back in with the singing despite the new distraction.

By all appearances, it looked like it was going to be another late night in third class. Nobody seemed the slightest bit weary. In fact, if Elsie wasn't much mistaken, the energy in the room was even higher than it had been when she had left.

"This has been such a good day, hasn't it?" Anika said, gnawing on her apple core, "I'm never going to be able to sleep tonight, I know it."

Genevieve laughed. "Lord, I'll have no problem, I can tell ye that," She said, re-pinning a few strands of hair that had come loose from her usually perfect French braid, "I'm just about done in."

Anika gasped and grabbed both of Genevieve's hands in her own. "Oh you can't go to bed yet Genevieve, they've just started the music again," She pleaded, turning the full force of her big blue eyes on her friend. "You are going to stay for just a little bit, aye?"

"Mother o' God," Genevieve grumbled, with a bemused grin, "I'll stay if ye just stop givin' me that face." To Elsie she added, "girl looks like a damned kicked puppy when she does that."

"Oh yes, she does." Elsie agreed. "Maybe more pathetic than that, even."

Anika bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet and squealed gleefully. Elsie got the distinct impression that Anika knew precisely the effect that her beseeching expression had on the unsuspecting public.

"You will stay then?" Anika asked, clasping her hands under her chin and looking as adorable as she could manage, "I'm so glad! Let's go find a place to sit until the dancing starts."

Grabbing Genevieve by the sleeve, Anika took off across the room, dragging the other girl behind her like a very bemused banner. Elsie, laughing, went to follow but then stopped short, remembering the strange almost-encounter with Charles. She had to admit that she was a touch disappointed that he hadn't waited for her and the other girls to return the way he had said he would. Still, he had probably been on his way out for a smoke and would be back in no time, Elsie reasoned. The only flaw in this logic was that smoking was allowed in the General Room, so Elsie didn't see why Charles wouldn't have just stayed here instead of going through the trouble of making a trip all the way to the bow of the ship to get his coat. Perhaps he had wanted some fresh air? It did get awfully stuffy in the relatively cramped quarters of the common area.

Besides, it really wasn't any of Elsie's business where Charles Carson went and why. After silently reminding herself of this, Elsie took another couple of steps in the direction that her friends had headed, but stopped again almost immediately. Sighing, Elsie pressed her knuckles to her temple and looked back over her shoulder at the door. For some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Elsie chewed her lower lip and bobbed up and down on the spot, impatient with her indecisiveness. What could it hurt to go check on him? Charles would do the same for her, wouldn't he?

The matter decided, Elsie slipped back out of the General Room and headed for her cabin to grab her own coat. From there it was a quick jaunt back to the staircase. Elsie, still humming under her breath, half-skipped up the stairs and up onto the deck. It was cool out, but not cold. There was a pleasant breeze that was blowing; almost whistling along with her humming. The coolness was a welcome change from the occasional stifling heat below decks.

The view out here was simply magnificent. The horizon was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was a handsome blend of pink and oranges that casted a reddish glow as far as the eye could see. The purple clouds were painted across the sky; it was as if the sky itself was a canvas. There were no words to describe it.

Only, there were some unpleasant decoration floating upon the navy coloured sea that caught her attention. Elise's breath came out in stuttering intakes of breath. She blinked to make sure that she wasn't dreaming and gasped when she realised it wasn't a fragment of her imagination.

Little white glimpses of icebergs, almost completely melted, were floating all around the sea; sparkling under the last rays of the sun. Elsie marvelled at the sight of them because she had never seen anything like this before. Of course, she had heard stories about icebergs sinking down enormous ships, or little fishermen boats, and instantly chills cascaded down her spine.

The icebergs were so small and tiny that they couldn't make any serious damage, but seeing them under and around the ship still brought her some discomfort. But Elsie also knew that the Titanic was supposed to be an unsinkable ship, and in that moment she remembered Charles words: "Not even God could sink this ship."

As she thought of this Elsie could feel the beginnings of her hair tingling on the back of her head, maybe from the cold, or maybe from the unexpected view - she didn't know.

Realising that she was distracted from her true intentions of coming up on deck, Elsie gave the icebergs one last look and shook her head slightly; continuing her mission.

Elsie found the Well Deck occupied only by a young Italian-speaking couple that she vaguely recognised, and a pair of elderly gentlemen smoking and arguing in a rough, low dialect that Elsie couldn't identify. There was no sign of Charles, so Elsie made her way to a staircase that led up to another deck. Bounding up the steps, using the railing to swing herself up and over the top of the stairs, Elsie landed on the deck with a light thump and looked around. A quick scan of the area revealed not a soul in sight. Momentarily baffled, Elsie frowned at the apparent empty deck, then realised that Charles must be hidden off towards the portside of the stern, behind one of the big white capstans. She set off in that direction, still feeling quite merry in spite of this unexpected detour. The decided spring in her step set her curls bouncing in time with her footfalls.

"What in God's name are you doing up here?"

Even though she had been expecting to come upon Charles suddenly, Elsie still gave a little shriek and clapped both hands over her heart. Charles was sitting on one of the benches, almost completely hidden in shadow; Elsie had gotten almost a full two meters past him before he had spoken. Fixing him with what might have been an imposing glare - had she not been simultaneously grinning impishly - Elsie spoke.

"Well Charles, you almost made it through the whole day without scaring the living daylights outta me." She wagged a finger at him. "And you're one to talk; you're up here too, aren't you?"

"Yes." Charles got up from the bench, walked right past Elsie to the railing, and flicked the remains of his cigarette overboard.

"But the way you three were carrying on down below, I thought maybe you'd somehow gone and got yourselves roaring drunk."

Elsie laughed. "Not us. We got ourselves an apple apiece, but nothing else. Just enjoying life a bit is all." She pushed her hair back off of her shoulders and shrugged. "Is that why you didn't see fit to say hello when you saw us?"

Charles snorted incredulously. "I'd just seen you not a half hour earlier, had I not?" He said, giving her a perfectly inscrutable look out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't figure I had to shout a greeting every time we cross paths."

That was Elsie's first hint that something was not quite right. At no point in the voyage so far had Charles failed to acknowledge Elsie's presence when she passed by; so instead of coming off as dismissive the way she was sure he had intended, the comment took on a decidedly defensive air instead. Narrowing her eyes, Elsie gave Charles a searching look. Sure he was a sarcastic sort of fellow, and never the sort of man she would describe as particularly exuberant, but Elsie had come to appreciate his dry sense of humour. Looking at him now, Elsie could see not a trace of the quiet amusement that usually marked Charles' demeanour. In fact, Elsie thought that he actually looked rather annoyed.

"What's the matter with you?" She demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Charles said with a frown. "There's nothing the matter with me." He gave her another sideways look, this one just as unreadable as the first and leaned against the rails. Staring down into the water breaking against the side of the ship he added, "go to sleep Elsie; it's late."

Elsie knew a dismissal when she heard one. However she had never been the sort to give in just because someone was trying to make her do so. She stood her ground. "Don't you go ordering me around Charles, I'll go to sleep when I bloody want to."

Charles shook his head, still not looking at her.

"Fine," He said curtly, "whatever you want."

Nonplussed, Elsie pursed her lips and stared at the back of Charles' head for a moment. She recognised that tone of voice, because she had used it uncountable times herself. It was the one she used when she was upset or bothered by something and trying hard not to show it. Having such a tone directed at her now, was not only disconcerting, but also worrisome because it meant that Charles was not annoyed; it meant that something was wrong and he was trying to get her to leave him alone so he wouldn't have to talk about it.

Elsie sighed and absently brushed an imaginary hair from her forehead. She should leave him be, she decided - and go back to the Saloon, or to her cabin.

"Well," She announced, mustering up an indignation that she didn't feel, "don't suppose I much want to hang around up here with you being so snarly."

Charles glanced at her then, a look of something Elsie felt positive was guilt flashing across his face. Ignoring this with some difficulty, Elsie nodded curtly.

"Good night, Charles Carson."

She marched off with her chin in the air, feeling Charles' eyes on her the whole way. Elsie got three quarters of the way down the steps to the Well Deck before she stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Damn." She muttered under her breath, closing her eyes for a moment. It didn't feel right, leaving him there; it made her conscience uneasy, as though she was doing something wrong, something she would regret later. There was nothing for it; with a massive sigh, Elsie turned around and trudged back up the stairs. So much, she thought, for a worry-free day.

Cora opened her eyes to see a blurry bright light shining above her. The temperature was surprisingly different than she ever remembered the Titanic being. It felt strangely warmer, like she wasn't on the ship at all.

The first thing she did when she felt the warm air latch onto her skin was to look down at herself. Cora raised her eyebrows when she saw her bare feet on a bright, shiny floor. She also wasn't wearing a coat, nor a hat, nothing but her knee length, silky nightgown.

No, I can't be on the Titanic. Cora thought silently and frowned at herself, giving one last glance at her appearance. But how's that possible?

This gave her an uneasy feeling. How on earth could she be so lightly dressed whilst being in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?

Cora raised her head and peered around herself, trying hard to see if she recognised anything. She was only left with disappointment - Cora couldn't find anything familiar around, or something that would reveal where she was. It was an empty, never ending room. The white light delimited everything around her; with not a single sound to be heard.

Taking a few fearful steps, Cora noticed a shiny object standing across from her in the middle of nothing. At first she hesitated, but soon she gave in and decided to head toward it.

As soon as she reached the shiny thing, she found herself mirrored inside it. She looked hard at her other self, standing solitary; waiting.

"You don't have time." The other, much darker Cora said from inside the mirror. "You think you do, but you don't."

Cora stared at her clone in bewilderment. "I don't understand." She muttered, her voice raspy and dry. It coldly echoed around the empty space that surrounded her, sending chills down her spine, exploding goose pimples all across her exposed flesh.

"You will regret it." The other woman spoke up again, ignoring Cora's comment completely, like she had said nothing at all.

"You must do it." Her clone's velvety voice was now fuzzy in her ears. It became harsh and searing, like she was trying to send Cora a warning.

Alarmed, Cora stepped back from the glass, speaking up again, "What are you trying to say?"

The woman looked directly at her, her bright eyes cruelly impaling right through Cora. "Don't be so stubborn," there was a slight pause before the woman started to chuckle darkly, "or all of this will end badly."

The woman's eyes and the tone of her voice startled Cora. The warm air in the room was plummeted by a cold sweat forming on Cora's skin. She stepped back as far as she could, her lips slightly parting in response to the shocking words.

The only thing that resounded around her mind was to run for freedom; to escape this nightmare. Her legs obeyed and she made ground towards the empty space in front of her...but there was absolutely nothing, just the vivid light that made her vision weaker by the second.

The woman's icy laugh still followed her - it got louder with every new step Cora took forward, it was as though she was not running away but constantly running towards what she wanted, needed to get away from.

She couldn't escape.

There was just no possible way to flee from her other self, for that woman was her, indeed. Maybe some darker, colder version of Cora hidden in some crevice that lay ignored, but it was still her.

The cold sweat dampened Cora's braided hair as she continued to run as fast as she could, but gradually with each step she became slower and slower.

"Robert!" Cora screamed loudly, the words escaped hurriedly from her throat. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision when the light in front of her became brighter; it had become so intense now, that it hurt to look at it.

She brought her hand up in front of her eyes, protecting them from the strong white rays, and crying out Robert's name once again.

But he didn't answer back, nobody answered. By now even the laughter had stopped. There was, once again, nothing around her - only silence.

Cora placed both of her hands over her face now, covering her eyes. "Please," She pleaded through sobs, "leave me alone. You're just in my head. You're not real."

After a moment of standing like that and comforting herself with quiet sobs, Cora finally removed her hands, revealing her reddish face damped in tears.

The bright light started to fade away, like nothing had even been there, and now Cora found herself on the Titanic's first class deck - and like before there was nothing, not an ounce of life around. Only darkness. And she was surrounded by it.

She couldn't hear the usual sound of waves hitting the ship under her, or laugher of the people who sat in the dining saloon. There weren't even the usual few who would come out for the occasional late night cigar.

Nothing.

Nobody.

Just her.

All alone.

Or so she thought, until she heard a male voice behind her, calling her.

"Wait!"

She stopped short but didn't turn towards the source of the voice, not yet.

"… What?" She muttered in fear. Her eyes widened as she slowly turned around and gazed at a figure standing in the dark right in front of her; and she waited, waited for him to say something, anything.

To say that she was safe. To say that this was all a dream, an unpleasant one. To say that the woman in the mirror was lying. To finally say it was a test of some sort.

But the figure did not one of those things, only stepped out of the dark, revealing his face.

"Patrick?" Cora questioned, relieved beyond measure. "Thank God you're here."

He said nothing in response, merely returned her gaze.

Cora felt a weirdness between them; she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, suddenly noticing his dishevelled appearance. Her mind was telling her that it was Patrick - but her gut instinct was telling her something more sinister. He appeared differently; something wrong to look at with the eye - a certain aura vibrating around him, it was bitter, akin to the cold waves beneath them. His usually formal hair was now all messy, with a few stray hairs curiously wandering onto his forehead. His once warm green eyes were shadowed by a pair of dark, black holes. Patrick's usual charmed smile was nowhere to be found, but rather a crooked rictus rested uncomfortably on his face.

Patrick scoffed. "No words of goodbye to your friend? Your rival? Enemy? Hell, I'm practically your damn family."

"Goodbye?" Cora repeated after him, narrowing her eyebrows. "But I'm not going anywhere?"

The corners of his mouth pulled up into a wicked grin while he coldly stared at her. "Oh, you are." Patrick spoke low, and slowly, it was as if he thought she couldn't hear him.

Patrick was silent for a moment and it was this odd behaviour of his that caught Cora's attention.

"Why is everything so wrong? It's so... different, I don't understand." She began to question.

"Shh... everything's fine, Cora." Patrick replied easily; flashing her a lazy half smile.

It hadn't felt right, nothing felt right - his voice was much deeper; the edges of his words tilted with something dark. The words sounded too serious for someone like Patrick, they echoed, becoming small whispers, so tangled with one another that they could barely be understood.

They stared at each other for a moment, though it felt like an age had fallen. His weirdly coloured eyes made her feel uneasy and uncomfortable, as if he could see everything inside of her. Shortly afterwards, he removed his firm gaze from her face and drooped his wandering eyes all over her body. Then, finally, Patrick's eyes stopped; staring down at her middle section.

Her eyes instantly opened wide and she shifted her hands forward, placing her palms protectively over her abdomen, not daring to say a thing.

Patrick didn't raise his gaze to look at her, but continued staring at her hands. "It has become much too dangerous for you to carry what is inside of you. You'll be endangering me..." There was a pause before he decided to continue, "...and everyone." He whispered, his voice barely making any sound at all.

"You know?" Cora tried hard not to falter. She tried to sound as brave as she could, but still Patrick's words held no mercy.

"You know very well what could happen. That's why you didn't want to tell anyone in the first place. That's why you were terrified. You were aware of the consequences, but still you carried on and did nothing at all." Patrick moved into her line of vision, making steady steps toward her. "So now I will have to take care of it."

Cora took a step back until she found herself standing next to the railing. She had nowhere to go now, nowhere to escape. It was the end of the road. She was trapped.

Patrick reached her and grabbed her right hand, squeezing it angrily. Cora tried to free herself from his cold grip, but he held her hand with extreme force.

"I, as Mary's fiancé and rightful heir of Downton, cannot allow you to ruin everything." Patrick's voice got colder and colder as he spoke. "With your child being a potential heir everything will be thrown upside down - and you know it." His words came out dryly and his nails started to dig into her flesh, "I can't let that happen."

Cora felt the tears well up inside her crystal eyes at his words. "What? No. No! You wouldn't do this to me..." Her sobs cut off her words. Her upper body shook with the force of them as she tried to move away from him. Cora's trust in Patrick was vanishing rapidly.

Cora tried to move her arms again, but she felt nothing. She couldn't move her body. It felt like she was paralysed. Cora needed to move, to save her life, to escape this hell. She tried to move her legs one more time, but there was no feeling there.

"Let me go!" Cora fearfully screamed into Patrick's face, which was now only centimetres away from hers, his black eyes staring right back into her own; his expression unreadable.

"Do you really want to destroy your own family now, when it's all settled?" He shook her body and tightened his grip until Cora yelped out in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop the tears, but they continued flowing. Cora tried to raise her arms again, to protect herself and her baby, but they stayed right where they were.

"Please... stop." She muttered slowly and opened her eyes with the small hope that he would have disappeared from her view. Suddenly, the scent of blood wafted up towards her nose and she became dizzy. Cora's head whirled as she heard Patrick's voice.

"Let's just get things back to the way they used to be again, shall we? To when everything was idyllic."

Cora lazily shifted her head down, not listening to his words. She was trying to find the source of the weird scent that had reached her nostrils. She bent her head further down, looking at the deck floor. There was red liquid all around them, both of their feet were soaked in blood.

Her face became afflicted with horror, with no understanding of where all this blood had come from. For the first time in a while, her sobs stopped and a new sound came out. It was a choking sound that Cora wasn't aware she could even make. She was fairly sure it was a howl of pain and sadness.

Cora gasped for air again and attempted to speak. Thankfully, her voice made it through this time, "Please, don't kill us."

"I'm sorry, Cora." Patrick whispered, his unusual voice coming out again.

He loosened his grip from around her, his fist eventually uncoiling from her tiny arm. Cora immediately looked down at it. Her arm held a pale, wrinkled look, almost as though she had stayed in the bath for too long. She noted an odd swirling pattern adorning each of her fingertips, travelling all up her arms. She also noticed growing droplets of blood from where Patrick's nails had left wounds.

She wrenched her eyes away and flung her arms to her sides. She then settled her gaze to the ground between the two, and worked on steadying her breathing.

Patrick didn't back away from her completely, nor did he let her get away. Through her disappointment and growing despair, Patrick's hands once again moved and travelled up; stopping and snaking around her neck. As his hands slid around Cora's throat her eyes widened in surprise. Instantly, she scrambled up her weak arms and entwined her hands around Patrick's strong ones.

Patrick tightened his grip as Cora started to scrabble to get a hold of any leverage she could to try and pry his large, muscular hands from her throat. He could feel her pulse drumming as if she was a frightened rabbit, and the thrill felt good. With her killed, all his troubles would disappear. He laughed maniacally aloud as she choked and sputtered.

He tightened his grip again, clenching harder and harder. She tried to talk, but no voice came out of her mouth. She felt the air leaving her body and she couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded like crazy inside of her chest; still clinging to that small hope that Patrick would let her go. She rose onto her toes with the last speck of energy she had within her body.

The pain became unimaginable, nothing she had ever felt matched up to this sensation and feeling. She tried to shake her head at him. Nothing he could say or do would ever make up for this. Ever.

Finally, she heard the sound that had been missing for all of this time, it came crashing all around her - the waves beneath them started to rise furiously; changing like there was a storm coming, but she couldn't see any sign of it. The waves peaked and viciously bumped against the steel of the ship, the sound sharp as it reached her ears. The sea continued to vigorously change behind her back.

Patrick's hands felt like ice as they closed now into a vice-like-grip around Cora's neck. The crazed look in his eyes terrified her; his hand closing around tighter and tighter, until finally Cora's breathing was stopped.

Cora started to fight back instinctively, terrified about what was on the other side. She wasn't ready for this. She couldn't go. Not yet. This time she dug her nails into his skin, but his grip remained unyielding. Her lungs began to burn from lack of air and Cora reached for his face, her nails connecting with his flesh.

There was no escape, there was no way out. She had to get away, she had to. For her and her baby's sake. As each second passed slowly, the panic grew as Cora tried to force his hands away. She had to breathe. The ache in her chest grew worse by the moment as she writhed under his grasp.

Perhaps, with some miracle, she could have tried to push him away from her - if he had not started to tip her over the railing. With one hand Cora continued to try and remove his powerful grip from her throat, and with the other she clenched the metal railing.

The icy waves below became harsher with each second; she could feel small drops of water swoosh against her flesh as the waves toppled against the ship's side, and she was terrified.

Patrick opened his mouth ready to speak again. "As your own consciousness said earlier; all of this would end up badly."

Cora began to see dark spots across her vision as she became more and more frantic. His blood splashed on her face as she felt herself growing weaker.

Why is he doing this, what have I done? Cora thought as she felt tears, from either frustration or pure terror, fill the pool of her eyes and spill out onto her cheeks.

Cora felt her arms go limp, lungs burning ever so painfully as darkness overcame her sight. It was over. Patrick had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She would never be able to forgive him for this.

Cora had been deprived of oxygen for several long, excruciating minutes before her eyelids slowly closed over her bright eyes, pushing all the tears away. Slowly the world started to spin, to fade, and each sound grew dull. A world of black rushed over her, pulled her down, and her body went limp.

Seconds later she knew no more.

Patrick didn't release his python like grip immediately though, for he knew she was merely unconscious, not dead. Once he felt her heartbeat sputter to a halt, he let go of her neck. Dead, Cora fell onto the cold deck floor. The blood lying there immediately soaked her nightgown.

Patrick looked at her. Her blue skin shone brightly, while the purple bruise around her neck became strongly visible. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself before he had to figure out how to dispose of the body.

He picked her lifeless corpse up, his arms now drenched in the crimson liquid too. She looked so peaceful and he whispered into her ear as he held her over the railing.

"It didn't have to end this way." With these words, he let her fall into the darkness beneath.

The unmerciful sea was waiting to swallow her, to leave no evidence that she had ever walked this earth.

Patrick waited until she crashed into the sea, but Cora could still understand what was going on around her, though she couldn't move or see. She heard the sound of someone whispering, but it was much too low for her to understand. She really didn't care anymore. She felt empty. She wished she could look up and somehow wake up, but she physically couldn't.

Cora heard the sound of a door opening, but it didn't make any sense. She was drifting below in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and she was sure that there weren't any doors there to be found.

"Cora." A familiar male voice spoke as if he were next to her head, but she was sure that there was no one there with her. She was surrounded by deep darkness and she expected to wither there until she was nothing but the sea's little secret. She tried to think, but she felt her mind go blank. Cora couldn't move nor think.

It was really over.

"Cora!" Someone yelled again, right in her ear.

But it was too late.