"I found the cage," she panted. "The tide isn't broken. It's imprisoned. By us."
The Diver didn't move. He was a fixture of the dream, an echo of someone who had drowned long ago, or perhaps a manifestation of the ocean's grief. oceane dreams
Tonight, the water was cold. It always started the same way: the sensation of sinking, the pressure building in her ears, and then the sudden, impossible lightness as she hit the thermocline and began to breathe. "I found the cage," she panted