 The grey sky slipped out of view as I left the boat and entered the water. We'd seen no other vessels since leaving the harbor just after dawn. A flock of birds, faint in the half light, had seen to follow us for the first few miles but then they turned away and we were left alone. There were two of us diving that day. No names, you will learn why. We were following an ancient route one which many people will tell you doesn't exist. Lay lines, if you believe in them, are lines that crisscross the globe and along which are sighted ancient man-made monuments and naturally occurring mounds. They were named in 1921 but existed long before. In the modern age, lay lines are not a subject that respectable academics pay any heed to. I am an academic, as respectable as it gets. I have tenure and I'm not going to do anything to risk that because of my belief that there are truths among the myths of lay lines. Truths that I needed to uncover. I'd hired the boat and the equipment and employed my diving companion under an assumed name, all paid for with cash. The water was clear as we began our descent. I looked to my left where my diving companion moved with ease alongside me. He didn't know the obsession driving this expedition. I told him I wanted to explore the waters here for a holiday away from my high-pressure job. He was happy to take me at my word and my money. I increased the pace eager to reach our destination. Studies carried out all discredited or simply ignored now, looked at lay lines on land from the deserts of Egypt to the green fields of England. I was here to follow a lay line traversing the seabed. It was one which crossed continents and surely there was no break. It was simple to project out over the water using a program and overlay onto a map. The seabed here was not so deep we needed specialist support or equipment. It wouldn't take us long. I tried to relax, keep breathing steady, but I was excited. This was new for me and adventure. I felt more alive than I had for a long time. It was growing darker, so we both turned on torches attached to our masks. Moments later, I saw a movement to my side. My companion was signaling, pointing at the seabed. We continued down a little further and floated in place just above the surface. I swept the beam of my torch from side to side, caught sight of brilliantly colored shoals of tiny fish, scuttling crabs, and drifting anemone. After checking our coordinates on the device secured to my wrist with a cable, I signaled we should move forwards following the lay line. My heartbeat kicked up a level. The belief is that lay lines pulse with supernatural energy and I could swear I could feel this emanating all around me, transforming the ocean into the most beautiful place I'd ever seen. Yes, I was stoked. I've no problem admitting this. And my excitement was mounting because half a mile ahead there was a convergence of two lay lines where lay lines cross at what is referred to as terminus points. The energy is greatest and can potentially be harnessed, perhaps also in some way measured. At that point in time, I had no idea how, as I've said, this was my first expedition. This I knew was a quest which could, would take many years. We continued our progress. On land the terminus points are often the sites of constructions of great spiritual significance. I was not expecting any such thing here. I know my beliefs are out there, but I don't believe in underwater beings who built stone crosses to some oceanic deity. I'm eccentric, but not crazy. As we near the terminus point, I began to wonder if actually I was. If all the secrecy, the white lies, the sleepless nights, planning and dreaming had left me detached from reality. At the place where my map told me the lay lines crossed, there was a rock formation. It rose in front of us, a group of a dozen long pillar-like rocks forming a circular pattern. This was a natural phenomena. It had to be. Yet it looked so like a stone circle, one of the ancient sites of worship, the remains of which still draw devotees. A trick of the eye, I told myself. Any conclusions I draw must be based on properly analyzed empirical evidence, not the imagination. We began to swim around the rock formation. My companion seemed as surprised, as fascinated as I was. Then suddenly he came to a dead halt before flailing his arms to propel himself backwards away from the formation. He pointed frantically towards the base of one of the rock pillars and I suddenly felt very cold. Nestled against the pillar, there was a skull lying on the seabed. It was unmistakably human. I told myself to be calm, to embrace reason, not fear. I held up my hand to my companion, acknowledging I had seen it and slowly swam closer. Until I saw the hole in the skull, it was a jagged rounded shape in the forehead. I thought I have stumbled onto a crime scene and began to wonder if I could lie to the police about the reason for being here as easily as I had to my dean and my students, my diving companion who continued to keep his distance. He was signaling that we should surface. I did not know the signal for I need time to think, so I just waved my hands around until he seemed to get the idea. With him placated, I decided to explore the site further. It seemed highly unlikely I would be able to return as I had planned. I'd need to find another underwater terminus point. I maneuvered myself past the skull, wanting to take a closer look at the other pillars and saw something poking just out of the surface of the seabed. I reached down and worked it loose, cleaned it a little with my gloved fingers. It was a coin, an old one from the condition and the markings. My mood lightened. If the skull dated back to the same era as the coin, then it would be historical remains. There would still be questions when I reported it, as I knew I had to do the moment I saw it, but now I felt I could handle any inquiries. I looked up at my companion and waved that he should join me. He hesitated, then began to swim down. I turned away and froze. Sweat began to form on my face and trickled uncomfortably down my neck. A skeletal arm rested on the seabed in the space encircled by the rocks around its wrist bone, a shackle hung. It was attached to something, but I couldn't see what. Was it another rock laying flat? A slab toppled over onto the seabed, maybe? I thought so, but I couldn't be sure without going closer. I swallowed. My throat felt desperately dry, but I had no way of easing that. I moved towards the remains of the arm. My mind was racing with images of stone circles on terminus points on the land I'd seen. Many were temples, it was believed, places of worship, places, some where human sacrifice was practiced. A victim laid out on an altar at the center of the circle, held down, so there was no escape when the killing blow came. I knew my breathing was far too rapid. I was becoming dizzy, disorientated as I neared the arm. I did not see the dark shape until it was too late. I noticed matter disturbed from the seabed drifting up towards me. I stared dumbly at it, then felt a pressure on my leg and suddenly I was being dragged backwards. I looked back and I saw it then. A tentacle was wrapped around my leg and I was being pulled towards, what the hell was it? It was still partially buried in the seabed, must have been camouflaged there until moments before, but from what I could see it was more than a dozen feet long. More tentacles spiraling out from it were thrashing at the seabed and I was close to blinded by the now swirling dirt. Not blind enough. I recoiled as a rib cage struck my mask and drifted away. It must have lain on the seabed, its eternal rest now ended by this monster. It continued to reel me in. Its prey I realized. I was a dead man. Soon my bones would join those others who died down here. I screamed a muted last plea. And then the pressure on my leg eased. I looked down, mystified. My companion, a blur among the dirt, held a length of tentacle in one hand. In the other, a long blade, he'd cut through the thing's limb, freeing me. Inky blood now mingled with the storm of dirt and bone. I started in horror as another skull, sightless and with its jaw hanging on by a sliver of bone joined the maelstrom. I felt something grab my arm. I swore, thinking the creature had entrapped me again. And then I saw it was my companion. He was pulling at me, pointing upwards. We had to get out of there. I looked below me once during our ascent. A cloud of dark matter was spreading out. The creature's frenzy raged on. We surfaced just in time. Our oxygen tanks were close to drained and exhausted. We helped each other clamor back into the boat. We lay then looking up at the gray sky untroubled by monsters and visions of stone encircled killing grounds, a sky ignorant of ancient lines connecting mystery to mystery. I wanted nothing more than ignorance for myself at that moment. For now I would leave the dead to their secrets.