Chapter 22 Now, Below
22
Now, Below
The sweet scent of damp stone brings me back to the waking world. I’m in the antechamber of a large cave. Outside, the light is blinding. Even straining my eyes, I can’t make out what lies beyond its threshold, so I turn my attention back to the dark interior. A single torch mounted on the wall beckons.
I begin to understand. The only direction to go is deeper. To descend. The flame flickers as I tread forward into the shadows, casting an orange halo around me. But the small perimeter of afforded light offers few clues as to what lies ahead. With each step, the light outside begins to dim, like an eye slowly closing, until I’m left in total darkness.
The stone beneath my bare feet is surprisingly warm. It’s strange to be comforted by this, but it reminds me of my sisters. Of the times we spent in Scopuli’s many sea caves.
If I’m here, I didn’t survive. But my sisters will. I fulfilled my pact, brought back a ship filled with men so greedy and corrupt that their blood will give Proserpina all the power she needs to free Raidne and Pisinoe from Scopuli forever. I smile, thinking of them, of Cora. The small glimpse I saw of the world outside our cliffs was cruel, merciless. But it was also vaster than it ever was in our youth and filled with unending chances for a real life.
The antechamber opens to a hallway so large that I can’t find its walls. I walk for a few moments with my hands outstretched until my fingers finally graze against stone. Beneath my feet, the floor slopes gently downward. I’m not only venturing deeper into this cave; I’m venturing deeper into the earth.
The only way forward is down, so down I go. My steps reverberate against the vaulted ceiling, falling in with the sound of my breath. It’s surprisingly steady, given the circumstances. A drip, drip, drip punctuates my own rhythms from somewhere beyond my torch’s reach; I never learn its source, but despite its secrecy, the sound brings me peace.
In life, I thought of caves as dank and musty places, but this tunnel into darkness doesn’t meet that characterization. The air is cool, yes, but it’s also crisp and clean, like a fresh winter snow.
And so I progress, farther and farther underground. I have no idea how long I walk—it could be for mere moments; it could be for days. The torch still rages brightly, as if it were just lit, a seemingly inextinguishable source of fire. Time doesn’t mean much here, but why would it?
The gurgle of water is the first thing to break the monotony of the journey. It starts out quiet, no louder than a gentle stream, but as I continue, the babble grows into a roar.
My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Up ahead, the hallway terminates in a doorway to an even larger space. I cross its threshold and find myself on the ledge of an impossibly huge cavern, so vast that it holds an entire raging river that curves off into a deeper void. The ceiling is so far overhead that it’s cloaked in shadow; it’s impossible to know how high up it goes.
The cavern is illuminated by a mysterious light, the source of which is billions of tiny fluorescent strands of silk, spun by indistinguishable creatures that glow a ghostly blue. They hang from the ceiling like glass beads on fishing lines, too far away for me to see exactly what they are, but that’s all right—this way, I’m able to pretend that they’re the spectral sisters of my little spider friend. Their effect is beautiful.
Green mushrooms sprout at my feet, also radiating a subtle bioluminescence. Their light reveals a staircase carved into the cliffside that descends into the cavern. I follow the path with my eyes: The mushrooms lead to the bank of the river.
Standing at the water’s edge is a cloaked figure beside a small boat. The apparition carries its own torch. It appears to watch me on the precipice.
My heart suddenly pounds so heavily, I fear I might collapse. I know who this psychopomp is; I also know I have no coin to pay for passage. Will I be doomed to roam the shores of this place for a hundred years? Have I already found a new prison to replace the one I just escaped? I look back at the hallway behind me, but, as if to underscore that there’s no returning, my unassailable torch extinguishes in a sudden burst, as quickly as the snapping of fingers.
An empty sconce sits expectantly on the wall to my right, so I deposit the used torch into it and continue down the steps. They’re ancient, rocky things, and if it weren’t for the soft light of the fungi to guide me, I know with complete certainty that I would fall to—what? My death? I suppose I’ve already arrived.
I reach the bottom of the steps. The figure is indeed watching my procession, its obscured head following my movements. I start to feel faint, but I continue forward because there’s nothing else to do, and nowhere else to go.
When I’m no more than an arm’s length away from the guide, it reaches up with its free hand to take down its hood. I stare for a few moments, eyes blinking, trying to make sense of who stands before me.
It’s not the ferryman of the dead. A gasp escapes from the back of my throat as the pieces fall together: the warm red lips, the cascading black curls of hair, the unmistakable vibrant emerald eyes.
“Hello, Thelia.”
Proserpina’s voice is so gentle that tears spring to my eyes, and, without thinking, I throw my arms around her, sobbing heavily into my queen’s shoulder. Proserpina wraps her arms around me, too, pulling me into a tight embrace.
“My dear, dear friend. At first I feared I’d never see you again, and then I feared I’d see you too soon.”
“I’m so sorry.” I choke on the words I couldn’t say when we last talked, right before I left Scopuli. “I’m so sorry, that day at the pool—”
“We were children, Thelia,” Proserpina whispers. “Nothing you could have done would have changed my fate.”
“But I told him,” I whimper, lifting my head to look her in the eyes. “I told him where you were because I was afraid.”
Proserpina’s hands cup my face, and she nods, knowingly. “He was coming for me no matter what. I’m glad he didn’t hurt you in the process.”
“I can’t forgive myself…”
“But I forgive you, Thelia.” She brushes the tears from my cheeks. “I forgave you that very day.” The words hit me like rocks to my chest, and the blow is so hard that I fall to my knees. Proserpina descends alongside me, holding me as I cry, as the centuries of guilt and shame and loss pour out of my soul. She runs her fingers through my hair; she coos gently into my ear.
“I forgive you,” she repeats, again and again, until my sobs slow and there are no tears left.
“Why did you eat those seeds, Proserpina?”
A coy smile dances across her lips, a beautiful and dreadful thing to behold. “You never did believe that I was tricked.”
“Not at first, no. I feared that you hated me enough to make sure you’d never have to see me again. But as the years passed, I started to wonder if the reason I didn’t believe it was because that meant what happened to you wasn’t entirely my fault.”
“It wasn’t, Thelia. You understand the thrill of finding power in an unexpected place more than most. I was always going to be someone’s wife, but to be the Queen of Shadow is to be my mother’s equal. As I held those pomegranate seeds in my hand, I felt the thrum of fate. I saw all the things I could do with that power, and I knew I belonged here. You’ve felt something similar recently, haven’t you?”
I think of who I left behind, of how close our fates came to truly threading together. “What will happen to my sisters? To Cora? Will they be all right?”
Her eyes sparkle knowingly at Cora’s name. She recognizes the longing in my face; does she remember when that same expression was directed at her? But when Proserpina speaks, her voice holds no jealousy, only glittering possibility. “Don’t you want to see for yourself?”
The tears come again, because I do, more than anything. But I saw the twist of the blade in my gut, I felt what it meant to hit those rocks. “Thomas…my body…”
“My darling Thelia, don’t you understand?”
The Queen of the Underworld, my first love, breathes the words that follow into my hair like they’re an incantation.
You’ve already sacrificed enough.