Chapter 65 Danica
Danica
My heart nearly leaps out of my damn chest as I watch Rhyland plummet into the gaping maw of the cavern. The bridge collapses beneath his feet and for a gut-wrenching moment, I'm convinced I'm about to watch my mate become a pancake on the jagged rocks below.
But thank the gods for Rhyland's lightning-fast reflexes.
Somehow, he managed to grab onto the rocky ledge, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the slick stone.
Now, he's just hanging there, dangling like a worm on a hook over that gaping maw of darkness that seems all too eager to swallow him whole.
Erik's at the edge in a flash, his eyes scanning the area with a laser-like focus.
I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to get Rhyland back to safety.
We brought all kinds of shit in our trusty backpacks—rope included— but what the hell good is that going to do with Rhyland stranded on the other side of the cavern, separated from us by a chasm that looks like it could be the gateway to the underworld itself?
I watch, my heart in my throat, as Rhyland grips the ledge and starts to haul himself up.
His muscles strain against the fabric of his shirt, veins popping on his arms and hands as he inches his way upward.
It's like watching a real-life game of cliffhanger, except the stakes are so much higher than some stupid plastic mountain.
Rhyland finally reaches the top and pulls himself over the edge. I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding, my lungs burning with the sudden influx of air.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he stands and assesses the situation. "Get the rope and toss it over to me," he calls out to Erik, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.
Erik's already on it, dropping his bag and grabbing the rope we brought. We tie the ends together, creating a makeshift lifeline that we pray will be long enough to span the distance between us and Rhyland.
It takes a few tries, but finally, Rhyland manages to catch the rope's end. He ties it off securely to the former bridge's column, anchoring it with a knot that could probably hold the weight of a small elephant.
Erik does the same on our end.
"Now what?" I ask, my voice breathy and shaky as I've just run a marathon through a quicksand field.
Rhyland's answer is so matter-of-fact it's almost infuriating. "You'll have to shimmy across," he says like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I blink, convinced I must have misheard him. "What?" I ask again, my brain struggling to process the sheer insanity of what he's suggesting.
He can't possibly expect me to tightrope walk across that chasm like some circus acrobat, can he?
"Little Huntress," Erik chimes in, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You will be fine. Go first, and I will be right behind you."
Oh. My. God. They're actually serious about this. They want me to fucking shimmy across, with nothing but a flimsy rope and a prayer standing between me and a one-way ticket to splat city.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. My palms are sweating, and my heart is racing so fast I'm half-convinced it's trying to beat its way out of my chest.
I look at the rope, then back at Rhyland and Erik. They're both watching me expectantly, waiting for me to sprout wings and fly across the gap.
"You've got to be shitting me," I mutter, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound tough. "I'm not a fucking tightrope walker, guys. I'm a scientist, not a Cirque du Soleil performer."
But even as the words leave my mouth, I know I don't have a choice. It's either shimmy across the rope or turn back, and there's no way in hell I'm letting a little thing like certain death stop me from getting to that lyre.
With shaking hands, I grab onto the rope, my knuckles turning white from the force of my grip. I can feel the rough fibers digging into my palms, and for a moment, I'm convinced I will lose my nerve and turn back.
But then I think of Mirella, trapped in her silent prison. I think of Aquaria, cursed to live under the tyrannical rule of a power-hungry queen. And I think of Rhyland, my mate, love, and everything.
I can't let them down. I won't.
So, with a deep breath, I dangle, and with trembling hands, I wrap my ankles securely around the rope, the rough fibers biting into my skin through the fabric of my pants. My fingers grip the rope so tightly that I feel the circulation starting to cut off, but I don't dare loosen my hold.
Here goes nothing.
"You've got this, baby," Rhyland's voice is like a soothing balm, wrapping around me like a warm, reassuring embrace. "I'm right here; just keep coming to me, Angel."
I take a deep, shaky breath, steeling myself for what I am about to do.
And then, I start to move. Inch by agonizing inch, I pull myself across the chasm, my heart lodged so firmly in my throat that I'm half-convinced it's trying to make a break for it and flee the scene entirely.
My hair cascades toward the yawning abyss like a chestnut waterfall as I shimmy across the rope upside down, feeling like the world's most terrified sloth.
"This is fine," I mutter through gritted teeth, trying not to think about the fact that I'm dangling over certain doom like the world's most reluctant bat. "Totally normal. Just your average Tuesday, hanging out... literally."
I inch forward, my arms and core muscles screaming in protest. Who needs a gym when you've got life-or-death situations to keep you fit?
"If I make it out of this alive," I grunt, my face probably as red as a tomato from all the blood rushing to my head, "I'm never complaining about planks again."
The rope sways and bounces with each movement, sending fresh jolts of terror racing down my spine like icy fingers trailing along my vertebrae.
It's like being on the world's most horrifying amusement park ride, except there's no safety harness, no emergency stop button, and the only thing waiting for me at the bottom is a one-way ticket to oblivion.
But I keep going, refusing to let the fear consume me. Hand over hand, I shimmy my way across the chasm, my eyes locked on Rhyland's reassuring presence on the other side.
The darkness below seems to call out to me, its whispers growing louder and more insistent with each passing second. It promises relief and an end to the terror and the struggle. All I have to do is let go, give in to the pull of gravity, and allow myself to be swallowed whole by the abyss.
But I won't do it. I can't. Not when Rhyland is waiting for me, his arms outstretched, ready to catch and pull me back from the brink.
So I keep shimmying and pushing forward, even as my muscles scream in protest and my lungs burn with the effort of dragging in each ragged breath.
The rope bites into my palms, leaving angry red welts in its wake, but I barely feel the pain.
All that matters is reaching the other side, closing the distance between myself and Rhyland until I'm safely in his arms again.
Rhyland's hands close around my waist, his grip firm and sure as he pulls me from the rope and the yawning chasm. I collapse against him, my arms wrapping around his neck in a desperate, clinging embrace.
I'm shaking like a leaf, my heart racing so fast. I bury my face in the crook of Rhyland's neck, breathing in his familiar scent, letting it ground me and chase away the lingering tendrils of fear.
"It's okay, baby," he murmurs, his arms tightening around me, holding me close. "I've got you. You did it."
And I did. I really did. I faced my fears, stared death in the face, and somehow, miraculously, came out the other side unscathed.
But even as relief washes over me in dizzying waves, I can't shake the memory of Rhyland dangling over that chasm, his life hanging by a thread. The thought of losing him, of watching him be swallowed alive by the darkness, is enough to make my blood run cold and my stomach twist with nausea.
I know he can heal with his vampire abilities, but how the hell do I know what is down there in that bottomless pit?
I cling to him even tighter, as though I can somehow anchor him to me, keep him safe through sheer force of will alone.
Because the truth is, I don't know what I would do without him.
He's my rock, my guiding light, the one constant in a world that seems hell-bent on throwing us curveball after curveball.
Behind us, I hear Erik making his way across the chasm, his movements sure and steady despite the perilous drop beneath him. A moment later, he's standing beside us, his face etched with relief and grim determination.
"We should keep moving," he says, his voice low and urgent. "There's no telling what other dangers might lurk in these caves."
He's right, of course. We can't afford to linger here, not when the fate of the realms hangs in the balance. But for a moment longer, I allow myself to savor the feeling of Rhyland's arms around me, the solid warmth of his body pressed against mine.
Because in a world where danger lurks around every corner and death is always just a heartbeat away, these moments of connection, love, and comfort are more precious than all the treasures in the realms combined.
As we venture deeper into the cave, the air grows thick with anticipation, like we're on the cusp of something big. And then, when I'm starting to wonder if we've taken a wrong turn somewhere, I hear it.
Beautiful notes like instruments. We stumble upon a sight that takes my breath away.
It's a pool, but not just any pool. No, this kind of pool belongs in a fairy tale or a high-end spa resort. The water is crystal clear, shimmering with an otherworldly light that seems to dance and play across its surface. And the sound... oh, the sound.
This is the next landmark Mirella spoke about—this must be the harmony pool.