Chapter 15 Esme #2
The forest is quiet, but I can feel it watching, this giant sentient being measuring my every step and guiding my way.
Beyond the trees, there’s nothing but darkness, the disorienting state of perpetual night, even though it’s still morning somewhere beyond.
The leaves above me form such a dense canopy that no light penetrates, save for occasional ghostly beams that illuminate patches of strange, luminescent fungi and moss.
The path ahead is narrow and winding, flanked by brambles that twitch when I pass, their thorns reaching out like curious fingers before retreating.
Shadows slither through the roots, whispering words just beyond my comprehension, echoes of secrets and warnings that raise goosebumps along my arms. The trees shift silently, revealing new trails I’m not sure existed a moment ago, their bark sometimes resembling faces in my peripheral vision.
The deeper I go, the more the world bends, and honestly, I don’t know if the potion Galin gave me the night before wasn’t made specifically for me to trip.
Colors seem too vivid, sounds too acute, every snap of twig underfoot echoes like thunder.
By the time I reach the cave, my pulse is thundering.
The mouth yawns open like a beast, jagged and dripping cold.
Stalactites hang from the entrance like teeth, water trickling down their length to pool at the threshold.
The darkness within seems absolute, a void that swallows light rather than merely lacking it.
I shiver wishing I had more clothes other than the shirt and pants I’m wearing, which offer little protection against the bone-deep chill emanating from the cave.
“Esme. . .” a voice calls.
I stall at the opening, as my mother’s voice rings out to me from the inside.
The sound takes me back to my childhood, her gentle lullabies, the way she’d call me in from playing when twilight descended on the mountains.
The sound is welcoming. I am immediately put at ease as I step inside, drawn by the familiar comfort of her voice despite the warning bells clanging in the back of my mind.
As soon as I am surrounded by the cave walls, a vision hits me like a fist to the gut.
I double over, my knees hitting the rocky path with painful force.
I reach out to stop myself from face planting but my hands touchdown on a rocky pier instead of the cave floor I expected.
I’m surrounded by glassy black water on either side of me, stretching endlessly into darkness.
I don’t know what happened to the cave, but at the moment it doesn’t matter as I pick myself up on shaking legs, the cold stone beneath me slick with moisture.
I’m standing on the edge of the pier, the black river, oily and endless, lapping at the stones with quiet persistence. A boat floats ahead, creaking under the weight of shadows. The sound echoes eerily across the water, mingling with distant wails I can’t quite place.
A cloaked figure stands at the helm, faceless and still with one single lantern lighting his way.
The flame casts no warmth, only a sickly green light that barely penetrates the gloom.
Micah sits at the back of the boat, but she’s on high alert, frantically looking around for danger, her daggers unsheathed in her hands.
“Micah!” I scream out to her in warning as hands claw at her from the water, skeletal, rotting, hundreds of them rising from the depths like nightmares given form.
She doesn’t hear me as she begins slashing with her daggers, kicking, and crying out.
Her blade passes through some of the hands like smoke, while others bleed black ichor when struck.
I watch it all in terror, screaming until my throat is raw and bloody, until they grab hold of her and pull her down with them.
She fights and calls for the boatman, “Charon!” He doesn’t move, his hooded face turned away as he pushes the boat forward, leaving her to her fate.
Her final scream cuts off as the black water closes over her head, bubbles rising to the surface before even those disappear.
“Help her!” I scream as I take a running jump into the water, my body moving before my mind can process the danger. Instead of plunging into cold depths, I land on my hands and knees in the cave, the vision shattered like glass.
My arms and legs shake uncontrollably as I vomit up black water as if it was me being pulled under instead of Micah.
It burns coming up, tasting of rot and despair, leaving my throat scorched.
My heart is pounding, unsure if what I saw was real or just the machinations of the cave.
I take a gasping breath and crawl forward only for my hand to meet snow instead of stone, the sudden cold biting into my palm.
The howl of pain is what snaps my head up and I know instantly that it’s Sam.
He’s in wolf form, his brown fur matted with blood as he bleeds out into the snow.
The rapid rise and fall of his chest has me scrambling to my feet, but with each step, I fall deeper and deeper into the snow.
It rises past my ankles, then my knees, thick and heavy as quicksand, impeding my desperate progress toward him.
“You can’t help him. You didn’t see it. It’s no longer your job to see, little seer.
Who are you?” A distorted voice floats around me as shadows surround him.
The same shadow creatures I witnessed tearing apart warriors in my father’s Great Hall.
They circle Sam like vultures, their forms flickering between solid and vapor.
“I can see. I should have seen it. Please let me help him,” I plead to whoever will listen, tears freezing on my cheeks almost as soon as they fall.
“I can save him, just let me reach him!” My pleas go unanswered as I trudge through the snow, my legs heavy, the weight pulling me down, making it impossible to move forward no matter how desperately I strain.
I watch in horror as they descend on him, ripping him apart. The sounds, Gods, the sounds of tearing flesh and cracking bone, will haunt me forever. Blood sprays across the pristine white snow, steam rising from the crimson stains.
“Sam!” I scream, but there’s nothing but blood where he once lay.
Blood coating my hands, my clothes, as if I’ve bathed in it.
The metallic scent fills my nostrils as I look down to see myself drenched in crimson, the hot stickiness of it clinging to my skin.
I feel manic as I scream and scream, the pain and loss of my mate, of my Tether, rips at my insides until there is nothing left of me but hollow agony.
I’m surrounded by taunting voices, pressing in on all sides, so close they might as well be whispering directly into my ears.
I see the high priestess, her cruel smile as she says: “You’re nothing. A failed experiment, a disappointment to the bloodline.”
I see Queen Lucelle, her perfect features twisted with disgust: “A bastard half-breed. You will never belong in either world.”
I see myself running, chased by monsters with red eyes and too many teeth, their snarls filling the air around me.
The baying of a wolf pack as I am suddenly back in Willow Woods, running for my life through tangled underbrush that tears at my skin.
I collapse forward, tripping over a tree branch and land face first not onto forest floor but plush blue carpet.
I look up to see Locke kneeling before my father, the fae court watching in judgment. The grand hall stretches endlessly, filled with beautiful, cold faces staring down with contempt and curiosity. Torchlight glints off jewelry and weapons, casting dancing shadows across the marble floors.
“I failed her,” he says, his voice hollow with grief. “I loved her, and I lost her.” Blood drips from a wound at his temple, running down his face like crimson tears.
The sight of him covered in blood, so much blood leaves me shaking on the floor of the Great Hall. My father goes to speak but I plummet into darkness before I can hear his judgment, the floor opening beneath me like a trapdoor.
“You had a choice. You chose to lose it all and for what?” Goddess Ourea’s voice booms out, surrounding me completely as I fall through endless darkness.
Her disappointment cuts deeper than any blade.
“Until you know who you are, you will die.” She laughs, the sound like breaking glass, and I’m suddenly falling faster.
Down.
Down.
Down.
My life flashes before my eyes, but there’s darkness everywhere. Snippets of memory, my mother’s smile, my first day at HellNight Academy, the moment I met Micah, all of it rushing past me as I plummet through the void.
The voices taunt me again, cruel and vicious, but there are the voices of those who care about me as well. I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t know what to truly believe. They overlap and echo, a cacophony of doubt and faith battling for dominance in my mind.
Micah: “You’re stronger than you know. You always have been.”
Sam: “We do this together. I won’t let you face this alone.”
Rue: “Be the badass queen. The one they’ll write legends about for centuries.”
“You’re a mistake.”
“You’re an embarrassment.”
“You’re not enough.”
“Weak!”
“A wannabe Blue Mountain witch!”
I feel as if I’m falling for an eternity as I scream. I scream for someone to help me. To catch me, to save me, but I’m left flailing wildly through the void, my hands grasping at nothing but empty air. The darkness seems to thicken around me, pressing against my skin like a physical weight.
“No one is going to save you. No one ever has. Only you. Who are you? Esme. . .”
I hear my mother’s voice again, clearer now, cutting through the chaos.
I close my eyes tight, focusing inward, ignoring all the negative thoughts and dig down deep inside myself.
Past the fear, past the doubt, to something solid and unshakeable at my core, the truth I’ve always known but been afraid to claim.
“I am enough!” I scream out as a blast of magic bursts from me, stopping my fall, leaving me suspended in air. The darkness splinters like shattered obsidian as I’m faced with that haunting voice again, more insistent now.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Esmeralda,” I say, chest heaving with the effort of holding myself against the pull of the void.
“And I’m Soraya. I’m both. I’m a Tether and a mate.
A daughter of the mountains and the sky.
” My voice grows stronger with each word, power resonating in every syllable.
“I am not defined by what I lack, but by what I choose. And I choose to be whole.”
Magic explodes all around me, light so bright I have to shield my eyes with my arm, the radiance pushing back the darkness until there’s nothing but brilliance surrounding me. It feels like being born again, painful and beautiful all at once.
I wake gasping on the floor of the cave, the sound of dripping water so far in the distance and my beating heart in my ears, my only company. Every muscle aches as if I’ve fought a physical battle, though my wounds are invisible.
Moonlight streams from above through a crack in the ceiling I hadn’t noticed before, painting me in silver.
Where the beam hits my skin, I cry out as I watch it brand my forearm with a glowing rune.
The pain is excruciating, like being burned and frozen simultaneously.
I can only assume it is the symbol of self but I’m unsure.
I watch the rune fade until I’m left with what looks like a white tattoo against my dark skin and although it stings like a bitch, I let out a shaky breath and smile. I made it.
Light shines from the opening of the cave as I slowly make my way out in a daze. My legs tremble beneath me, threatening to give way with each step. I’m unsure of what I envisioned and shaken by what I witnessed, the images still vivid behind my eyes when I blink.
The path back is much shorter now. What felt like hours only takes a few minutes, as if the forest itself is eager to return me. The trees part for me as I stagger into the clearing, their branches swaying as if in approval.
Sam is there, waiting as I collapse into his arms. His warmth envelops me, chasing away the lingering chill of the cave.
I breathe him in, reassuring myself that he’s real, alive, not the broken form I saw in my vision.
Locke is beside him, sword drawn as if they were about to charge into the trees after me, his face tight with concern that melts into relief when he sees me.
“We’ve got you,” Sam whispers against my hair, his arms tightening around me. “You’re safe now.”
Galin approaches and inspects my arm, whistling softly as his fingers trace the air just above the mark, not quite touching it. “Well, well, well. You’ve passed, Miss Esme.”
He smiles, sharp and pleased, eyes glittering with something like pride.
“You’ve passed brilliantly.”