Golden sand shifts and alters in unsteady streams beneath my feet. Jagged black rocks peak up, swarming with fish and deep between the cracks between them, long gorges lay where water flows fast like river rapids. I see the marbling of the ocean surface above me, its calm light pooling through in slanted rays. But I hear nothing but the radio in my earphones, I smell nothing but the plastic of my goggles, blocking my nose as my mouth breathes cold oxygen through a tube. I climb over the rocks, the weight of the water below me pushing me up with the lightest movement and I glide, slowly, surely, toward more sand and as I descend, I meet the slow edge of a cliff. I look down, over the sheerness of the drop. I see fish swimming in schools above the darkness, the lightness of their skin acting as a reverse-silhouette.

I turn around.

My flippers touch the sand as I kick off, swimming slowly through a shoal of yellowtail snappers, who don’t seem amused by me, scurrying off faster than they came, the banana yellow of their tails light lightning in my eyes. I descend another hill and look up once more at the boat I came from, noting its location. I swim for a minute, past the ebony rocks, avoiding the currents that will drown me if I stray too close, past the fish that make them their home, and over more, up to the reef I tend to avoid. The waters warm, my suit feels it. It’s an environment I’ve seen a few times. Tangerines and lilacs capturing my gaze, aquamarine zooxanthellae like moonlight embodied. I see the mighty stems of the mangrove further away. I stray away from them, not wanting to use the torch strapped to my head gear. I dive away from too much light, to the grass swaying beneath my feet and go close, seeing the miniscule fish that dart between each plane. I set my feet down.

And I am dragged, beneath the surface. Darkness surrounding me, the shafts of light above my head fading as I’m pulled deeper with the current. The coldness almost freezes me in place, but I keep swimming, and as I do another current pulls me from the light and down into a cave.

I know it’s a cave as I’m surrounded by jagged walls. Bioluminecent creatures light the path, some distant, some close. They hover, like little bumblebees. I avoid it all, twisting the torch on my forehead. I try not to panic; I doubt I have the oxygen for it.

I follow the ocean walls, once volcanic, like this whole area once was. The fish avoid me, keeping distance and as I swim, harder and harder, more and more desperately. They lead me through a smaller cavern, an exit, I drift until I’m back in ocean water. I can see the ocean surface, but it’s so far away. Little light exists in this murky world. I feel the current before I see what causes it, I turn to see a spotted shark below my feet. Giant, enormous, its fin and tail tall, its body wide. A whale shark. Beside it, little fish following in its wake, some attached to its skin, others drifting with it. I swim up, past a mass of manta and a moving tornado of tuna, keeping close to the light but away from the shark below me. I look again, seeing another emerge from the darkness ahead. I swim up.

I’m not as much scared anymore, only anxious. The oxygen in my tank is dwindling, I don’t have the time to be scared. I can see the rippling ocean above me, twisting and billowing in the wind. Occasionally, a sheet of light will fall into the abyss revealing another void. I wait for more, my feet kicking to push me upwards.

I feel like I’m upside down but looking up I can see the light. So, I climb, another whale shark drifting below my feet, I can’t make out its face, or its head at all, all I can see is a spotted back. I swim, feeling the last of the oxygen in my tank depleting, and I touch the waters’ surface. My hand pierces it, but I don’t feel the cold wind. I don’t feel the freedom of air, so I push my body through it, and instead find another layer of water, this one luminescent by something other than a white sky. I can see nothing through it. I’m in an underwater lake, at a depth I cannot imagine. A depth where submarines may struggle, I breathe but no air comes through the tank. I don’t take it off, feeling the comfort of the mask on my skin keeps me sane. I know I’m certainly dead. A ghost drifting beneath the waves.

So, I continue. My eyes adjusting to this new light, and I swim through this foggy, bright version of the sea. Structures in the distance catch my attention and I kick my way toward them. Lanternfish avoid me, I can see their translucent heads, bobbing with light. They’re as confused as I am.

There’s an eel drifting below me, it’s long, slithering just out of my reach. Am I this close to a floor? I can barely see a meter down; dust and cloudy mist are teetering just below. But above and before me are clear. My headlamp flickers, I forgot I even had it.

A current takes me closer to these structures and I turn, seeing the giant body of a squid, one eye looking directly at me. It’s eye almost as large as my body. I’m tiny, an ant to this thing. I can see its tentacles, with a million tiny biological suction cups ready to tear the skin from my frail bones. But it leaves me, its long head ascending away from me.

In the distance, circling those ancient structures I have yet to understand, is something long. Longer than any creature I’ve seen. A frill-like head and tentacles descending for what looks like miles. A magnapinna squid, something I’ve never seen; something I’ve only read about. I realize the depth I’ve reached to see such a creature. I look away, finally within this structure.

I’m within ancient stone, a building, a pantheon. Ocean moss creeps up it, blooming at its base. The water, the salt, has preserved it, but not all, parts are collapsed. I let the water lead me and I seep into the space between cavernous rocks. The ground is solid, bedrock, concealed by something I’ve never seen before. Perhaps it’s the volcanic structure of the earth. The water is warming. The water takes me.

I wonder how this structure got here; did it sink thousands of years before? Was an island where I stand now? Was it above the waters, dragged under by a collapsing volcano? A devastating earthquake? I will never know.

So, I continue, the water warming on my face. My lungs feel empty, cold. I want to breathe it in, but I don’t take the risk. Holding onto the false idea of a breath, as if it will save me from this endless death. This place terrifies me, I begin to swim up, fighting against the current. I fight up, ascending above the subnautical-lakes’ surface. I ignore the light below my flippers, kicking the thick mist, it reaches up a tendril to grasp my leg, but leaves as I fight harder. I break from the current. I can see nothing. Nothing at all. I swim, praying the way I swim is up. I continue to kick, slowly some light comes into view. A bioluminescent jellyfish bobbing in a void of black. I see its blue hue, like the blue of the sea surface under moonlight. I long to see the moon again.

All color is washed out at this depth, there only exists light and dark.