Manuel scrambled for his backup lamp. He flipped the on-switch. A beam of white light cut through the deep darkness, and Manuel pointed it into the cavern.

In the next three second of his life, Manuel knew it was all over for the divers. They wouldn’t make it to the surface. This was their last deep sea treasure hunt.

Carlos floated limply, half way into the giant sea anemone’s tentacle mass, the ancient breastplate slipping from his fingers.

Antoine was subdued by three tentacles, one of them firmly around the exposed skin of his checks. He looked like a marionette, Manuel thought.

Louisa’s legs were entangled by one extended tentacle, while she held off another with her speargun. She stopped struggling when the tentacle touched her exposed hand.

Louisa’s speargun arm floated behind her. A muscle spasm, brought on by the paralyzing poison of the anemone tentacle, caused her to fire the celestium spear in Manuel’s direction. It narrowly missed his head and pierced his rebreather tank instead.