The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 217

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Three days later, the tension on the ice spiked once again. Sloane was preparing for her second dive.

The professor crouched in front of the sonar monitor, his finger slowly tracing a line across the map.

"The lakebed slopes downward from south to north. Last time, you took a direct vertical descent right through the deepest section, which subjected you to the absolute maximum pressure. We're changing the route. You're going to descend diagonally along the perimeter of the lake wall." He drew a curved line with his pencil. "The topography of the ice wall here will buffer the pressure changes. It won't completely eliminate the hazard, but it should prevent that catastrophic spike you hit at thirteen hundred feet."

Diego crouched beside him, his eyes glued to the drawn curve. "Is that actually going to work?"

The professor didn't answer. He couldn't offer any guarantees. They just had to try.

Josh knelt beside the wetsuit, his fingers flying across the control panel.

Lines of data streamed rapidly beneath his fingertips, and he double-checked every single variable. He had switched the pressure compensation from 'Automatic' to 'Manual,' shifting from a continuous feed to a stepped-increase sequence. The suit would force a one-minute pause every hundred and fifty feet, allowing her body to acclimate before dropping further. He had rewritten the sequence no less than twenty times, running the exact same calculations, ensuring the exact same flawless result.

"It's ready." He stood up, his knees cracking loudly.

Sloane walked over, standing at the edge of the ice hole, staring down at the ink-black water.

The beam from her headlamp penetrated the surface, revealing a phantom glow of blue before everything vanished into total darkness. She slipped The Obsidian Charm down the collar of her suit, feeling the cold stone resting against her collarbone, and then began to gear up.

The wetsuit felt tighter this time, a result of the recalibrated pressure valves. Josh methodically checked every single buckle and strap three times over.

The professor stepped up, sliding the hand-drawn map into the inner pocket of her suit. "Stick to this route. Hug the wall. Do not deviate."

Sloane nodded. "Understood, Professor."

Diego walked over. He didn't hug her this time, just gave her shoulder a firm, heavy pat. "Take it slow, Sloane. No rush."

Wyatt stood off to the side, shooting her a thumbs-up.

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