Chapter 15 Sorrow
Sorrow
The scream launches up in her throat, then sticks to the roof of her mouth. A slab of rock sweeps beneath her feet the instant she plants her weight there, the slick foundation shifting with such velocity, she plummets like a sack of grain into a void that wasn’t there seconds ago.
The bottomless well stretches its jowls, consuming Sorrow whole. Blackness obliterates her vision, the drop hard and swift, her stomach overturning. Her fingers swipe outward, then slam onto a protrusion.
Reflexes kicking in, Sorrow snatches the chink, her body jerking in place. Every muscle shrieks with pain, a brittle cry lurching from her tongue. The sudden stop would have ripped a human in half. Instead, she dangles like a thread of seaweed, water showering down on her.
After a moment, Sorrow’s immortal senses reinforce themselves. Trickles of moonlight pour into the narrow channel, spotlighting crusted walls leaking with miniature waterfalls, the cascades threatening to break her grip.
Liquid clogs Sorrow’s nostrils, depleting her of oxygen. She twists her head, hacking up the fluid, the motion drawing her gaze to the abyss. Below, eerie vapors sizzle like a sulfur pit.
Panic soaks into her pours. With the deluge cascading from the rifts, she can’t evanesce. And without her archery, Sorrow lacks arrows to stab the walls and boost her upward.
Her gaze snaps toward the hole through which she’d fallen. Beyond the torrent, an X is embedded into a tree, branches tenting over the crater.
Fuck. Envy had warned her not to venture near any areas labeled with that symbol. But while she’d been paying heed to those markings, the prism had blotted out the warning sign.
Envy!
Her psyche latches onto The Stars and calls out to him. Yet a minute passes, and still nothing. He could have manifested here within moments.
Not about to hang around like fodder for whatever lurks beneath, Sorrow tosses her gaze about, assessing the funnel. If her free hand can snare the plate, she can hoist herself upward. However, water sloshes down, beating into her like fists and preventing any chance of gaining leverage.
Past the torrential falls, a ledge juts from the opposite facade. The cascades tumble down from there as well, but with less force.
Heart hammering, she flails both limbs, heels seeking purchase. Yet it’s too far, her toes scraping the surface.
If she continues like this, the struggle will deplete her reserves. And seriously, after all that’s occurred, she’s not about to die this way, following a spat with her greatest rival and forsaking her crew.
Love has given Sorrow insight into mechanics of flying. Wonder has imparted details about balancing on the most precarious surfaces. And Merry has somehow managed to imbue Sorrow with more positive energy than the sun itself. At least, on rare occasions.
Channeling her friends, plus a dose of commonsense and her own kinetic skills, Sorrow swings her limbs forward. The force propels her toward the facing edifice, where she flattens both soles on the rocky wall. Then she shoves away, boosts herself backward, and prays to the almighty Stars.
As she pitches into the air, her fingers release the projection.
Taking advantage of the momentum, Sorrow twists and focuses on the ledge while plunging.
The instant her feet strike down, she flings her arms toward the wall and seizes the crevices.
Her body smacks into the stone, where she heaves in place, her lungs chuffing oxygen.
Then she gets moving, craggy fragments of stone nipping her flesh. Gritting her teeth, Sorrow clambers up the pit, careful to locate each chink before capturing it and hauling herself toward the opening.
One of the slabs shifts as she grasps the lip. Yanked off balance, she wobbles and grasps another, which also scrolls from its position. Sorrow scrambles to grab yet another ledge, this one holding fast.
So that’s what triggered the fall. While distracted by that prism, she’d set her foot on one of the plates, driving the bastard into motion like a natural booby trap.
More random slabs shuffle, forcing Sorrow to cling wherever she can. Or perhaps it’s not random.
Moonlight glazes each jutting stone that bears her weight. “A lunar path,” she whispers to herself.
It’s not an official term. But it sounds accurate.
The glinting rays appear to mark the safest route. Hardly a guarantee, but at this juncture, she’ll take what she can get.
On a hunch, Sorrow follows the moon, each gleaming slab aiding the ascent.
Several feet from the top, anxious hope motivates her quicker.
As she reaches for the last stone, the moonrays change course as they normally would with each passing hour.
Out of nowhere, the ledge she’d been aiming for veers out of the way.
Sorrow yelps, slips, and jerks to a halt. A male hand snatches her wrist, breaking her fall.
Her head whips toward the god’s frantic expression. “I’ve got you,” Envy growls, his pupils flaring. “I’ve got you, my nymph.”
Relief pries a strange noise from her lips. “Envy.”
“I’m here. And you’re almost free. Now do what you do best and survive.”
Nodding, Sorrow clasps his arm and charges forth. Alternating between his face and the lunar path, she bolsters herself higher.
Envy’s bicep inflates, hauling Sorrow toward him with the strength of a backhoe. Together, they pull her from the depths, and she spills over the edge.
The brunt takes Envy down with her as they tumble to the ground, landing in a wheezing heap. Flopping onto their backs, they gape at the canopy, their chests heaving like pumps.
Three breaths later, the pride god veers her way. Grabbing her face, he checks for signs of injury and barks out, “You okay?”
Gulping lungfuls of air, Sorrow bobs her head. “I’m all right. The prisms—”
“I know. It happened to me once. Though at the time, the drop was dry, and I was able to evanesce.”
“I didn’t see the arrow marking until it was too late.”
“Oh, I’m sure you were vigilant even while pissed,” he tries to joke, despite the harsh lines in his visage. “The prisms are too dense for the marking to be obvious. That’s probably what also delayed your call from reaching me.”
Sorrow drags herself to a sitting position, with Envy still framing her profile. “Thank you,” she pants.
His mouth slants into a grin. “As much as I’d love to bask in the credit, I didn’t do much. You were less than a yard from saving yourself. Even when you slipped that final time, you maintained balance. My hand just reacted on instinct, basically as a backup.”
“The point is you came.”
“The point is you called.”
Envy’s quiet tone draws Sorrow’s gaze. They stare, their attention cementing before the crash of a waterfall jolts them out of the spell.
Gaining their feet, they inspect the stone plates. “They shift only once,” Envy provides. “They won’t rearrange themselves until the gap seals shut.”
Regardless, they pick carefully around the well, their hands clasping.
For a while, they walk in companionable silence.
In thousands of years, it’s not as if Sorrow hasn’t weathered battles, skirmishes, or natural threats before.
Yet the experience leaves her shaken, maybe because there’s more at stake.
If she dies, her crew will be one fighter short.
Gradually, her pulse slows, and her body ceases trembling.
In a safe zone, she eases her fingers from Envy’s and approaches the rim of a tranquil pool.
Despite what could have been Sorrow’s final hour, the experience stokes her defiant side.
It would be a shame to leave this place with a traumatized aftertaste in her mouth instead of savoring its benevolent corners instead. Quite simply, the notion bothers her.
The basin ripples, reachable by a trail extending from the bank, its surface reflecting a netting of fern trees and vines. Bits of the sky leak through the mesh, celestials poking holes through the canopy.
On impulse, Sorrow peels off the pajamas and sheds them on the ground.
After stepping from one mossy outcropping to the next, she dives in.
The depth catches her, the current swirling around her body.
Pumping her limbs, she swims along the perimeter, supported by the deep, solitude easing her cramped muscles.
Crashing through the surface, she paddles around a pair of trees germinating from the water. It’s a shallow area, the foundation elevating so that she can sit with her back against one of the trunks. Resting there, she kicks her legs in front of her, lightly splashing.
Being ambushed and targeted for death several times in one night.
Combatting with a legion of furious Dark Gods.
Plummeting down a violent rapid and falling overboard.
Almost drowning in the Astral Sea. Hiding from detection near the residences of her former kin.
Washing up in this undisclosed location, estranged from the crew, unaware of what’s happened to them.
Nearly plunging to her demise in this enclave.
All in less than two days.
But there’s been good parts too. Friendlier ones.
Closing her eyes, Sorrow coaxes herself to think about pleasure instead of pain, life instead of death. If she doesn’t, the latter will win and trample all over this night.
Time ceases to exist, minutes or maybe hours passing. At some point, hyperawareness radiates from nearby. As always, she senses when his shadow looms close.
Sorrow’s eyelashes fan apart. The hedges shift, brushing like fingers as he steps into view, that large and powerful body laminated in the shades of eventide. Propping his shoulder against a banked tree, Envy watches her.
Nothing more. He just watches Sorrow with an unfathomable expression, as if her discarded clothing isn’t puddled by his feet, as though her nudity is inconsequential compared to the fact that she’s still breathing.