St George flying underwater

He spent his momentum arcing back beneath the ships, gliding into the dark. The glow sticks made a hazy ball of light around him. Barely ten feet. He could see the bottoms of the ships, but even those blurred into the nothingness.
He moved forward, crossing under the yacht, amazed at how far his momentum was taking him. Then he spun in the water, looking back at the dim shafts of light beyond the boats. He’d gone almost fifty feet down and another fifty under the island. He hadn’t taken a single stroke or kicked his legs once.
The water flowed across his clothes, and his clothes brushed his skin. But he still felt it. The tingle between his shoulder blades.
He was still flying.
He was flying underwater.

Excerpt From Ex-Isle, pg 531-532
Peter Clines
https://books.apple.com/us/book/ex-isle/id989619017