The fact that the island that she assumed she would be closing in on wasn't getting any closer was the least of Emalia's worries. She was losing energy - fast. Already the effects of maintaining her spell were wearing on her, and coupled with the fact that she had already been worn out before she even started... "Oh this can't be good. This really can't be good."
Emalia's frame dipped a bit in the air. The sparkling facets of the water seeming not so beautiful now, and more like a bath of glass. If she couldn't maintain her spell, she definitely wouldn't be able to swim, and if she couldn't swim, she would die. Suddenly, she wasn't flying alone - panic dogged her like a faithful friend and began to play about her legs.
The calm, as always, came about naturally. With her time to rest before she set out, she was a little something like her own self. The vicious cycle, however was started. She knew that the calm brought on fatigue, and she began to worry, and with the worry, the calm increased. She was less than five feet from the surface now as she looked skyward pleadingly, "Lathander, Apprentice - please... help me."
