Indeed, just a hundred feet further, we find it. An ornate well ring stands before us. The cool air from its depths plays with the loose curls of her hair. We rush to inspect the rusty chains descending from an old mechanism.
Talysse drops a stone into the inky darkness, and we both hold our breath until the distant splash echoes back.
“It’s deep,” she states, her voice trembling slightly.
“There’s still water down there,” I say thoughtfully, sniffing the draft rising from the depths. “Fresh, running water. Do you know what that means, Talysse?”
She nods, but her face has gone pale.
“It means we have a way out,” I say, but she takes a step back, her fear palpable. “What? Don’t tell me you can’t swim, Talysse.”
Of course, she can’t. A girl who grew up on the streets wouldn’t have had the luxury of learning such a skill. “Listen to me, Talysse.” Her name rolls off my tongue with unexpected ease. But she’s fixated on the well behind me, her body tense with terror, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger. The sight of her so vulnerable, so afraid, tugs at something deep within me.
“Listen to me, Talysse,” I repeat, my tone softer, my hands resting on her shoulders. Even the touch of a monster doesn’t seem to shake her out of it. “I need you to trust me.”
She barks a humorless laugh, her defiance still burning brightly despite the fear.
“I need you to trust me,” I insist, lifting her chin with a single fingertip, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes, wide and stormy, hold mine, and I feel the pull of something between us. Elder Seuta weaving her threads, entwining our destinies. “This is our only way out. I will go first. If the water is too shallow and we get hurt, it’s fine—I know some basic healing spells. If it’s too deep, then I will catch you.”
A single bead of sweat rolls down her brow. The woman whose parents I’ve condemned to death is considering trusting me. By Heroy’s cursed spear, I wouldn’t trade places with her right now.
“It’s the only way out,” I continue, my voice almost coaxing. “If you prefer, you can stay here and starve, take over the job of the wraith we just burned—”
“How can I be sure you’re not just going to drown me and take the Flint?” she interrupts, trying to conceal the tremble in her words.
“If I wanted the Flint, I’d take it right now, Talysse,” I reply coldly, towering over her, the darkness of my threat obvious. “But I’m giving you a choice. You know what? I’ll let you figure it out. I’ll wait for you below,” I point to the well, “but not too long.”
Without another word, I summon a pair of light wisps that swirl around me, their soft glow illuminating the hard planes of my face. Then, with a final look at Talysse, I grab the rusty chain and begin my descent into the darkness.
Talysse
The dark world
Biting my lip, I watch Aeidas swing his long legs over the stone well ring. His body sways over the opening, the bluish light of his wisps reflecting off his silver hair. His corded forearms strain, and just like that, he’s gone, swallowed by the dark depths.
That bastard really left me alone.
With a scoff, I throw myself on the dirty floor.
Tiredness is seeping through my muscles down to the marrow. If it were a normal night, dawn would be breaking by now.
The chain still swings, clinking softly against the stone. He hasn’t reached the bottom yet. The thought of what might be lurking in this pitch-black chasm makes me shudder.
Seems there is only one solution. One way out and it involves a descent into these dreaded depths, a possibility of drowning, and a murderous Unseelie. But staying here means certain death. Even if Gale has survived whatever has decapitated the mercenary, it would be difficult to open the trap door alone.
Think, Talysse.
Two options: a slow, certain death here or a slim chance at life if I follow the Unseelie. I’d take slim chances over certain death any day.
Maybe, with some luck, the water below is not too deep. My bitter laugh shakes the golden cages with the dead birds in the trees around. Me and luck, those two things never go together!
The chain rattles again. Soraya’s gilded lounger shimmers coldly between the black trunks. Should I just give up, stay here, and wait for the next adventurer to find my bones? What would I say to Tayna in the halls of Atos after? That I sat and waited to die?
No. Giving up is no option.
My decision is made; I flick my hair back and approach the stone ring. Far below, the faint glow of Aeidas’s wisps flickers like a distant star. The air from the well is cool, carrying the scent of wet stone—no foul stench, thank the Elders, just damp earth.
Small steps, Talysse. Focus.
